stern voice of the captain, heard amidst the roar of the ocean, the oaths of the sailors, the groans of timid passengers, and the heavy gusts of wind, together with the confusion and wildness of your own thoughts and feelings, make it one of the most awfully impressive scenes ever witnessed! But, when the fury of the storm is spent, and the wind is low, and the sun bursts through the flying clouds, its crimson light beautifully tinging them as they seem to mingle with the waves that furiously dash and roll-when the ship that had appeared like a frail bark, rises majestically upon them, and passes triumphantly on, leaving them far behind in their expended strength-when she seems to kiss the blue heavens as she rises on the summit of mountains of waters, which look like liquid emerald and ruby, so indescribably brilliant are their colours-it is then, that one stands in silent awe and admiration, as in the presence of the Deity-it is then, that the grandeur and sublimity of a storm at sea is felt at the very bottom of the soul; and there is not,

I believe, the being who has witnessed it, who did not, at least for a moment, bow in wonder and in adoration before that Being, "who rides upon the wings of the wind," and who holds the spirit of the tempest in his own hands!

I told you in that letter, of a singular fellow passenger we had, whom I named the Incognito, for it was evident he was in disguise, and sought concealment. He was the most melancholy and abstracted being I ever met with; he used to stand for hours in the same spot, and often I heard him walking the deck the whole night. I never saw him smile but once, and then the light of soul, the harmony of music, beamed over his countenance, and I felt involuntarily disposed to show him the respect we offer to superior genius. I heard the cry of

99 66 a sail," a sail," and ran upon deck, expecting to be cheered by the sight of my national flag, when, to my utter amazement, I saw nothing but one of those curious little fish, called a "Nautilus," or a "Portuguese Man

of-war," sailing quietly by us; it was soon after caught by one of the sailors, and my expressions of surprise probably drew the smile. from him. I shall never forget the first time I heard him sing; it was a stormy night, and the deep, rich, melancholy tones of his voice, as heard through its pauses, were startling. I did not sleep that night; all the past rose before me, and many thoughts of the future came blended with visions of days gone by! I wished the stranger had been sleeping in a coral cave, or singing on the rocks to mermaids, before he had disturbed me thus, for I could not throw off the effect his voice had produced on me. The night we anchored in the blue bay of, he approached my mother, and expressed in the most graceful manner the interest he felt in her recovery, and thanking her for the notice she had taken of a stranger (6 seen under the most suspicious circumstances," begged to be allowed to see her once after the fatigues of the voyage were over. She readily granted his request; but, strange to tell, since our arrival

we have neither seen nor heard of him. My mother appears curious to know who he is, and the idea that he is in some way connected with her fate, continually pursues me; and you know what a mystery has enveloped her, and how ignorant I am of the cause of her sorrow. But God forbid, that any thing should come to add to her unhappiness in this land of strangers!

What a letter I have written you! But it is drawing to a close, for Don Manuel has just informed me that a vessel will sail for America in the morning, by which I shall send you this; and in my next epistle I will tell you something of the islanders, and of the flowers and fruits, and of every thing curious; but I must tell you now, that we are much pleased with our residence, and with the climate. Flowers are seen in every direction; and orange, lemon and lime trees, covered with fruit and blossoms, as well as the tamarind, almond, pomegranate, and bay. The acacia and mignonette trees yield a fragrance that is like continual incense; the atmosphere is filled with their odours, and yet

it is never oppressive. The ocean, which I love, is always before me; eternal verdure, and eternal sunshine, and delicious fruits, every thing conspires to make us happy. The novelty of our situation undoubtedly adds much to my happiness, but the heart must be cold indeed that would not be warmed into pleasure and enthusiasm by such a climate as this, independent of any extraneous circum

stances.

Farewell!

LETTER III.

THE Vessel has not yet sailed, my dear Julia, for adverse winds detain her, which gives me an opportunity to teaze you with another letter. I will first tell you that my mother is better. She seems invigorated by this beautiful climate, and who would not be, for it is a luxury