breeze. In them I recognize that noble spirit before which I often bowed myself in awe, and before which I bowed last when reading her "Life in a Sick-room."

The calmest day we have yet had on board! And this calm is really beautiful after the last day's storm. Little sparrows swarm around our vessel in the evening, with greetings from land. They remind me of the birds which brought to Columbus the first intelligence from the shores of the New World. What must have been his state of mind on seeing them!

To-morrow morning early we may set foot on American soil at Halifax; but as we there fall in again with "Old England," I take the matter coolly. I have been on deck for a long time. Sea and sky are calm, and of an uniform light gray, like the every-day life of the North. We leave a broad, straight pathway behind us on the sea, which seems to fade away toward the horizon.

I have been annoyed to-day by the behavior of some gentlemen to a little storm-driven bird which sought for rest in our vessel. Wearied, it settled down here and there upon our cordage, but was incessantly driven away, especially by two young men, an Englishman and a Spaniard, who seemed to have nothing to do but to teaze this poor little thing to death with their hats and handkerchiefs. It was distressing to see how it endeavored again and again, upon its wearied wings, to follow the vessel, and again panting to alight upon its cordage or masts, only to be again driven away. I was childish enough to persecute these young men with my prayers that they would leave this poor little creature in peace. But it was to no purpose, and, to my astonishment, neither did any of the other passengers take the little stranger under their protection. I called to mind that I had seen in Swedish vessels little storm-driven birds treated differently-left in peace, or fed with bread-crumbs. The end of the pursuit here was, that after the bird had left its tail in the

hand of one of its tormentors, it was soon taken; it was then put into a dark cage, where it died in a few hours.

I consider myself to be far from all excess of sensibility; but nothing angers me more, among human beings, than unnecessary cruelty to animals; and I know that a noble human nature abhors it. For the rest, I deplored over the cruel children in men's shape, because I believe in a Nemesis even in little things; and I believe that the hour may come when these young men may long for rest, and find none; and that then that hunted bird may make itself remembered by them. When I arrive in America, one of my first visits shall be to the Quakers, because I know that one of the beautiful traits of their religion is mercy to animals.

I once was also a cruel child, when I did not understand what suffering was, and what animals are. I received my first lesson in humanity to animals from a young, lively officer, who afterward died the death of a hero in the war against Napoleon. Never shall I forget his reproachful glance and tone, as he said to me, "The poor worm!" It is now more than thirty years since!

I shall, my dear heart! write no more this time; but as soon as I reach New York I shall again write to you. And that which I long for there, is to hear from home. It is now so long since I had a letter.

Many feelings stir within me as I thus approach the end of my voyage, feelings not easy to describe. What will be the end of it? That I do not know. One thing, however, I know: that I shall see something new; learn something new; forget that which was of old; and press onward to that which lies before me. There is much for me to forget and to be renewed. And this, also, I know : that friends will meet me in that foreign land; and that one faithful friend comes to meet me on the shore. That is good!

Good-night, dear little sister.

I embrace you and

mamma-kind greetings to relations and friends-and may she live in the New World as in the Old.

New York, October 4th, 1849. GOOD-MORNING, little sister mine! or, rather, good-evening in the New World, where I now set firm foot, after thirteen days rocking on the sea. I am lodging in the Astor House, one of the largest and best hotels of New. York, and where the inhabitants are as numerous as in the capital of Iceland, namely, about five hundred.

Opposite to this Astor House I see a large so-called museum, with fluttering banners and green shrubs on the roof, and the walls covered with immense paintings, representing "The Greatest Wonders in the World," in immense, wonderful animals, and extraordinary human beings, all of which may be seen in the house. Among these I observe a fellow who makes a summerset aloft in the air out of the yawning jaws of a whale; a "salto mortale," like the salt-prophet, Jonas; and many such like curiosities, which are still further trumpeted forth by a band of musicians from a balcony before the house. They play very well, and the whole looks very merry.

In front of the Astor House is a green space inclosed with trees, and in the centre a large fountain, which has a refreshing appearance, and there I have refreshed myself by walking an hour this afternoon. Astor House is situated in Broadway, the great high-street and thoroughfare of New York, where people and carriages pour along in one incessant stream, and in true republican intermixture. Long lines of white and gilded omnibuses wind their way at an uninterrupted rapid rate, as far as one can see, amid thousands of other vehicles, great and small

The broad side-paths are thronged with people of all classes; there are beautiful houses, and houses under erection; splendid shops, and a heap of horrible rubbish. There is something confused in this Broadway which makes one feel a little bewildered in the beginning. And thus, in the first place, I merely think of getting across the street alive. That beautiful little green plot, with its lovely fountain, seems to me, beside the bustling Broadway, like an oasis in the agitated sand.

I must now say something of my arrival here,

I last left you the day before we reached Halifax. That night was the end of any danger in our voyage; for it was during a thick mist that we approached the shore and its dangerous surf. We were obliged every now and then to lie still. In the morning, however, we were at Halifax, and I saw the surf billows, like some unknown, enormous sea-creatures, heave themselves, roaring at a distance around us. I went on shore at Halifax, but only to meet again the worst features of the Old World, fog, rags, beggars, dirty, screaming children, wretched horses, and such like. I was glad to stay only a few hours there.

The following day we took our course direct to New York; that was a real enjoyment-warm weather, a calm sea, favorable wind, and in the evening the ocean full of phosphoric light and stars, and heaven full of stars also, shining out from amid poetical clouds. It was a glorious evening. I was on deck till quite late, and watched the fire-works which our keel called forth from the deep along the whole track of the ship. We sailed, as it were, in an element of bright silver, from which the most splendid constellation of golden stars sprang forth incessantly.

The day before had been cloudy, the heavens and the sea had been gray, the waves lead-colored; but when we came into the large, beautiful haven of New York, which inclosed us like an open embrace, the sun broke through the clouds strong and warm, and every thing far around

was illuminated. It was a glorious reception by the New World; besides this, there was a something so singularly full of vitality, so exuberantly young, which struck me deeply there was in it something of that first life of youth, such as is felt at fifteen or sixteen. I drank in the air as one might drink in water, while I stood on deck looking out upon the new shore which we were rapidly approaching.

The shore is low. A forest of masts, as yet, hid New York from my sight; one only saw its towers and its smoke; and right and left in the harbor lay, with its green hills, and groups of beautiful villas and houses, the large islands, Long Island, and to the left, Staten Island, which seemed to me higher and more woody than the rest of the coast. The harbor is magnificent; and our arrival was festively beautiful, thanks to sun and wind!

A very agreeable family, of the name of B-, from Georgia, took charge of me and mine with the utmost kindness, and I accompanied them to the Astor House, where we immediately obtained rooms. The pale girl and myself took up our quarters in a room four stories high; we could not manage it otherwise.

I had not been a quarter of an hour in the Astor House, and was standing with my traveling companions in a parlor, when a gentleman dressed in black, with a refined, gentlemanly appearance and manner, and a pair of the handsomest brown eyes I ever saw, approached me gently, and mentioned my name in a remarkably melodious voice: it was Mr. Downing, who had come from his villa on the Hudson to meet me on my arrival. I had scarcely expected that, as I was so much after my time, and he had already made a journey to New York on my behalf in vain. His exterior and his whole demeanor pleased me greatly. I do not know why, but I had imagined him to be a middle-aged man, with blue eyes and light hair; and he is a young man, about thirty, with dark eyes and dark hair,