last billet-doux. The little _possede_ is burning brown paper within an
inch of the curtains of a state-room, while the steward is dragging it from
him. Others are gradually dropping into their berths, like ripe nuts from a
tree. Thus are we all pursuing our vocations.

9th.--Wind dead ahead! I console myself with Cinq-Mars and Jacob Faithful.
But the weather is lovely. A young moon in her first quarter, like a queen
in her minority, glitters like a crescent on the brow of night.

Towards evening the long wished for lighthouse of Abaco (built by the
English) showed her charitable and revolving radiance. But our ship,
Penelope-like, undoes by night what she has performed by day, and her
course is backward and crabbish. A delicious smell of violets is blowing
from the land.

10th.--A fair wind. The good tidings communicated by the A----, _toute
rayonnante de joie_. A fair wind and a bright blue sea, cool and refreshing
breezes, the waves sparkling, and the ship going gallantly over the waters.
So far, our voyage may have been tedious, but the most determined landsman
must allow that the weather has been charming.

Sunday at sea; and though no bells are tolling, and no hymns are chanted,
the blue sky above and the blue ocean beneath us, form one vast temple,
where, since the foundations of the earth and sea were laid, _Day unto day
uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge_.

This morning we neared the Berry Islands, unproductive and rocky, as the
geography books would say. One of these islands belongs to a coloured man,
who bought it for fifty dollars--a cheaply-purchased sovereignty. He, his
wife and children, with their _negro slaves_! live there, and cultivate