covered to the water's edge with trees rich in their autumnal colouring;
the white houses on Staten Island--the whole gradually growing fainter,
till, like a dream, they faded away.

The pilot has left us, breaking our last link with the land. We still see
the mountains of Neversink, and the lighthouse of Sandy Hook. The sun is
setting, and in a few minutes we must take our leave, probably for years,
of places long familiar to us.

Our fellow-passengers do not appear very remarkable. There is Madame
A----, returning from being prima donna in Mexico, in a packet called after
the opera in which she was there a favourite, with her husband Senor
V---- and her child. There is M. B---- with moustaches like a bird's nest;
a pretty widow in deep affliction, at least in deep mourning; a maiden lady
going out as a governess, and every variety of Spaniard and Havanero. So
now we are alone, C---n and I, and my French femme-de-chambre, with her air
of Dowager Duchess, and moreover sea-sick.

28th.--When I said I liked a sea life, I did not mean to be understood as
liking a merchant ship, with an airless cabin, and with every variety of
disagreeable odour. As a French woman on board, with the air of an
afflicted porpoise, and with more truth than elegance, expresses it: "Tout
devient puant, meme l'eau-de-cologne."

The wind is still contrary, and the Norma, beating up and down, makes but
little way. We have gone seventy-four miles, and of these advanced but
forty. Every one being sick to-day, the deck is nearly deserted. The most
interesting object I have discovered on board is a pretty little deaf and
dumb girl, very lively and with an intelligent face, who has been teaching
me to speak on my fingers. The infant heir of the house of ----- has shown