The wheels of the steamer stopped not their play of rapid evolution, while nevertheless many ears were open aboard of her, as the Lieutenant delayed not for a reply, but added "Report the United States frigate Cumberland, twentythree days from Vera Cruz!"

"Aye-aye!” in return, came back to the ship, as the eye followed the fleet steamer in her foam as she receded farther and still farther on her course towards friends, for whom our epistles are ready to announce our arrival, but which will be anticipated a few hours, by that rapid messenger, still going on the same course, over which I, at least, shall soon and joyously bound.

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The night of the 29th is passed; and this morning, the 30th, in the barge with Captain Gregory, I came to Norfolk. The frigate, as yet, remains at her rest, where she anchored, after twenty-three days' buffet of the seas, on her passage from Anton Lizardo, to within five or six miles of Norfolk. The Surgeon, the Purser, and Captain Gregory's son came also in the barge, to the city. As we landed, and again planted our feet on the soil of our own native land, beneath so brilliant a sun and soft climate, which, to-day, has blessed this southern city, the spirit of the company seemed difficult of suppression within the bounds of proper decorum for sane men. Upright and steadily indeed we could walk-and most of the party, I believe, could have danced-as each had his own way of demonstrating his joyousness of delight at once more treading the earth of his own country, beneath a sky so pure as now glowed above us, and on a day than which there was never another more perfect. If this were always the climate of Norfolk, no one would ever go further,. to find the realization of his dream of a land of the happy mediums between too much of the sunny and too much of the wintry clime. We would not have wished another ray

from the sun-we would not have asked another shade to moderate his beams. We inhaled the breath of the morning, more agreeable for the moisture which had mellowed the atmosphere; and we snuffed in the glorious freshness of the land, as it came so acceptably to our perception, in contrast with the breath of the sea. And we walked on from the boat-now on the pavement-now on the earth-and turned one corner after another for a few moments-when it was really too much for the gravity of the party, and the Captain very seriously halted, and proposed that we should all hurrah at the top of our voice, for the very pleasure of the oddity of once more hearing our own voices on the shore. I recommended, if the suggestion were to be adopted, that we should hold on, until we could get into a little more conspicuous position of the town, that we might create the greater sensation. But before we had neared the hotel, a thousand objects of remark, and the usual disposition of one's loving to hear one's self talk, in contradistinction to the hearing of others, or else some other motive, or forgetfulness of the proposition, finally saved the party from doing so crazy a thing as breaking the public peace. And yet, the very feeling would seem to present itself as some apology for the outbreaks of the plain Jack-tar, who also feels joyous when he again touches the shore after a long cruise, and has no motive or feelings of propriety to restrain him from giving way to his excitement, his innate love of fun, and his own and his shipmates' still greater love of rum.

It was a comfortable feeling, to find one's self once again on shore, in nicely arranged and well furnished apartments, with all things to meet one's wishes within doors, and sunshine and sunny faces to gaze upon without. It is the voyager, who mostly delights to look upon the "human face divine," as it meets him in the crowded city or town, as he moves through its streets after a passage over the seas. Every counte

nance, to him, has its interest- some are pictures enhanced in their freshness and beauty of the blended lines and colorings of the countenance, from the very fact that all are new, as strangers; and that the vista of his own vision, for weeks and perhaps for months previously, has been bounded by the familiar things and faces within the bulwarks of a single ship. He looks now on the objects around him, as the child gazes on pictures of modified dimensions through the magnifying medium of a camera-obscura.

And the first Sunday on shore, too, comes with a mellowing influence on the heart, to awaken gratitude and devotion. There is solemnity in the Sunday services at sea. There can be hardly another more imposing scene than a frigate's company gathered on her decks, for the worship of God, on the Sabbath day. It is a noble temple, though she be but a speck on the boundless field of ocean around her. And there is a stillness as profound as holds the worshiping assembly on shore. And the music, as it goes over the waters, is borne up the blue vault of heaven as harmoniously and solemn, as rolls the soft and accordant notes of the organ along the arched ceilings of the Gothic pile at home. And it is fit for the sailor, with only the heavens above him and the seas around him, to offer up prayers to the God who made these and him. But there are sympathies that come up anew in the heart, as one gathers to the shore-temple the first Sunday succeeding his arrival from sea. can never feel them at other times as then. The scenes are changed. Again, he is among the holiest associations. What dear and familiar memories awake, as the tones of the organ break on the ear-the eye gazes on a varied congregation-the scenes of the social life, at home, come to the heart, as men, women, and children occupy the family seats. And if he is now among those of his own whom he loves, he kneels with them in worship and is thankful-if still

He

apart from them, his thoughts go to them with intenser love, as he recalls the hours he has worshiped with them, and prays devouter still that he may soon re-greet, with gratitude to God, those he loves. It was with some such feelings, with other officers of our ship, that I knelt, on the Sunday after our arrival, among the congregation of Trinity Church, at Norfolk. And still deeper was the feeling of sympathy that held our hearts, as it was announced from the desk, that the "officers of the United States ships Cumberland and Saratoga, (both having reached the station at Norfolk during the week,) desired to return thanks for their safe arrival from sea." How truly our hearts joined in this offering of gratitude, the Being to whom it was addressed alone could know, but His eye did mark that it was an oblation of tears.

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The worthy Rector having invited me to fill his pulpit, during the day, I entered it with a variety of emotions. Some faces before me were familiar, but they were few, comparatively, of the numerous congregation in attendance. And here, at this very altar, some years before, I had knelt, and received my commission as a clergyman, from that man the most venerable of all the members of the House of Bishops for his personal appearance and full and flowing white locks, which makes the name of RICHARD Channing Moore call up before the vision the most perfect resemblance that can enter one's conception of an Apostolic Father. I was glad, therefore, from this association, to stand in the pulpit which I then occupied. And it was not strange, if my own heart melted while I gave utterance to truths which were evolved from the subject of the discourse. Nor felt I that it was unnatural that the same thoughts should bow the heads of others who listened to their utterance. And if I might be excused for the allusion, I would fain record one scene, for its sympathy and moral beauty, which no one could behold, while it was deemed to be all unobserved,

without regarding it as surpassing all the power of the pencil to delineate a kindred picture, for its pathos, nature, and fitness. I merely allude to the eye of a mourner, drowned in tears. She who wept was young, and beautiful, and in black; and with an eye, such as nature gives only to one of a million. Let not this picture be desecrated by characterizing it as sentimental. It was as if an angel mother had come near and paused one moment on her wing, and touched with her spirit finger the heart-strings of her lovely child. Her eye, for the moment, was on the speaker. A holy thought, pure as a mother's love and prayer, carried on the mind to Heaven's ever enduring love of the mother for her beloved offspring. And yet there would be separations there ; and "how could ye bear it," was the question, to those who were weeping over the lost ones of their love. That yet undimmed but almost flooded eye was suddenly and unbidden filled, as successive tears almost unconsciously leaped from their sacred fountains. Her heart was broken-her head was bowed. Her Christian mother slept in a lately covered grave. And that mother's hallowed prayer (oh, how hallowed!) was gaining its answer now.

The beautiful weather of the few preceding days had turned into a chilly atmosphere, for this Sabbath day. Forgetful that I was not still in the bland temperature of the southern Gulf of Mexico, I freely conversed with a friend, in the open and chilly air, after leaving the Church, where my voice had been exercised by a long discourse. I attribute to this circumstance, together with some exposure of the succeeding day or two, a severe attack of the throat, rendered more susceptible to the sudden changes in this temperature, by a residence for months in a climate, where the thermometer stands for most of the year as high as 80° to 84° and the greatest and most sudden changes seldom ranging through more than 10 degrees; and where the mean