We sailed the 1st August from Genoa, and on the 3rd came to anchor in St. Fiorenzo Bay. We fell in with a large vessel, a two-decker, and a chebec of twenty guns, but neither of them came near enough to speak with us. The first thing we spied ashore was a camp, which by the help of glasses we found consisted of Horse and Foot, and was well fortified towards the land. This gave us suspicions of hostilities being already begun, which, by return of the boat from shore, we found well grounded. She brought word that the French, the day before, had attacked and carried two villages with some loss, that the General's brother was within six or seven miles, with about 2000 men, and that Paoli himself was expected that night with about 3000 more from Corte. Upon this I determined to go ashore without loss of time, and endeavour to get up the country to where the General's brother lay.

Two gentlemen from the frigate went along with me, and a Corsican, a man of some consideration in the country, whom we had brought from Genoa with us. We landed in a rocky bay near Mortella, and followed the sea shore about two miles till we came to Fornali, a small post opposite to the French camp, with a miserable tower and some broken cannon. The country presented a rude aspect, high mountains and barren rocks, and the appearance of the inhabitants was every way suitable. They were all in arms, every man with his gun, pistol, and stiletto stuck in his girdle. They are clothed in short jackets of coarse brown cloth with cap, breeches, and stockings of the same; this with their dark complexion and long black beards gives them a horrid and savage look. But those impressions soon wore off with us, when we found ourselves received with such expressions of joy and so greatly caressed by those poor creatures, and considered them as a small oppressed people, defending their liberties, unassisted, against the whole power of France. They never doubted, however, of our bringing immediate assistance to them. "Viva l'Inghilterra, viva,"

was our welcome everywhere, and the very women as we went along would cry, "Brave Englishmen, save us from the French." At Fornali we were furnished with mules to carry us on, with eight men well armed to escort us. We set out about their twenty-third hour, half an hour before sunset. We had to go behind St. Fiorenzo, and our guides by negligence led us under the cannon of the place, which, however, gave us an opportunity of viewing their batteries across the bay. The only one of any consequence seemed to be of twelve cannons à fleur d'eau. The French fired a gun as we went along: the Corsicans immediately