50 miles from the Cape-the Bay here is very wide, and we seemed almost surrounded with fishing smacks and other small craft; we soon, however, slipped by all of them. At half-past eight o'clock, the time the passengers had previously fixed, we were summoned to breakfast, which I welcomed, as usual, with a good appetite. There appears to be a large supply of eatables on board-Our live stock consists of a cow and calf-six sheep a dozen or more pigs-and ducks, chickens, and geese, innumerable.

3 o'clock, P. M.-We are now just off Cape Henlopen; the pilot is about leaving us, and all hands and hearts are busied in sending off their letters. Farewell; the wide ocean lies before me; one

spot after another of my native shore fades away, like "clouds in the horizon." What events, what vicissitudes may take place, before I may be permitted to visit again the scenes of my childhood-if indeed this be permitted at all-but I forbear-again farewell.

LETTER II.

April 22d.-At Sea.

After the pilot left us yesterday, we soon got out to sea with a fair breeze. The motion of the ship produced sickness in most of the passengers, and we all could scarcely keep our feet; any two of us in conversation might have been thought under the influence of ardent spirits "We reeled to and fro, and staggered like drunken" men. At the supper table, we could muster 7 only, out of 22-and before 9 o'clock only three of us could be seen. Thus far I have entirely escaped any thing like nausea or bad feeling. Last night, though my first at sea, I slept very soundly.

When I went on deck about seven this morning, I had the pleasure of witnessing the ocean in one of its most lovely faces. The sun was bright, and the wide waste of dark blue water was thrown into gentle heavings by its own influence; the white crests of the waves were silvered by the rays of the sun-these, and a thousand other peculiarities, all new to me, filled me with wonder and awe,

"As its billowy boundlessness opened before me."

The water within soundings is of a dark green, but that beyond the reach of the lead is of a deep indigo blue colour-a change which is no doubt produced by the light not being reflected from the bottom. The blue colour of the deep water is beautifully changed to pea green,

or light blue, by the white foam occasioned by the wake of the ship. As this foam, if the vessel is making much head-way, is often projected in a broad thin sheet, for many yards over the surface of the waves, it often lies on, or rolls over the tops of the waves, like so much oil, without mixing with the denser water. This morning, the mate of our ship saw a long-boat filled with water, sweeping over the waves. This incident produced, of course, many unpleasant sensations. Where is the crew, which perhaps once manned this boat?-have they all gone down amidst the roaring of the waters?—— What prayers have been offered up -what sighs and tears have been poured forth, by friends at home, for these wanderers on the deep,

B