and somewhat less to eat and drink, would be more to my taste.

Later. I have just seen the sun go down in the sea, and the new moon and stars come forth. The North Star and Charles's Wain have now gone farther from me; but just above my head I see the Cross and the Lyre, and near them the Eagle, which we also see at home; and with these companions, by-the-way, I can not be other than cheerful. We have the wind in our favor, and drive on our thundering career with all sails set. If we continue to proceed in this way, we shall make the voyage in from twelve to thirteen days.

I hope, my sweet Agatha, that you regularly received my two letters from England; I sent the last from Liverpool on the morning before I went on board. I was quite alone there, and had to do and arrange every thing for myself; but all went on right. I had the sun with me, and my little traveling fairy, and the last dear letters of my beloved, my passport to the New World, and to the better world, if so be, for they are to me like a good conscience. I say nothing about my good spirits, but you know me, my darling: "Long live Hakon Jarl!" Thursday. Five days at sea! and we are already more than half way to New York. We have had fair wind without intermission, and if all goes on as it has begun we shall make one of the most rapid and most prosperous voyages which has ever been made from Europe to America. "But one must not boast till one has crossed the brook." To-day, when the wind blew and the sea heaved somewhat roughly, my style of writing became somewhat like Charles XII.'s in his letter to "mon cœur." I get on capitally, my little heart, and do not wish myself away, so comfortable am I here, and so animating and elevating appears to me the spectacle of heaven and earth. Yes, the soul obtains wings therefrom, and raises herself upward high above the roaring deep.

For several days we have seen no other object than heaven and sea, and circling sea-birds; not a sail, nor the smoke of steamer. All is vacancy in that immense circle of space. But the billows, and the sunbeams, and the wandering clouds are sufficient company; these and my own thoughts. I stand and walk whole hours alone on deck, and inhale the fresh, soft sea-air, watch one leviathan dive down and rise again from the roaring waves, and let my thoughts dive down also, and circle round like the sea-birds in the unknown distance. There was always something of the life and joy of the Viking in me, and it is so even now. Yesterday was a glorious day; it was throughout a festival of beauty, which I enjoyed unspeakably.

In my early youth, when we were many in family, and it was difficult to be alone, I used sometimes to go and lock myself in that dark little room at Aersta, where mamma keeps her keys, merely that I might feel myself alone, because as soon as I was quite alone in that pitch darkness, I experienced an extraordinary sensation-a sensation as if I had wings, and was lifted up by them out of my own being, and that was an unspeakable enjoyment to me. That half-spiritual, half-bodily feeling is inexplicable to me; but it always returns when I am quite alone and altogether undisturbed by agitating thoughts, as is the case at this time. I experience a secret, wonderful joy as I stand thus alone among strangers, in the midst of the world's sea, and feel myself to be free and light as a bird upon the bough.

Yet it is not this feeling alone which gives me here calmness, and, as it were, wings, but another, which I well understand, and which is common to all alike as to me. For whoever, when alone in the world or in heart, can from his heart say, Our Father!-mine and all men's!-to him will be given rest and strength, sufficient and immortal, merely through this consciousness.

Out of the chaotic group of human countenances which at first met my eyes here, a few figures have come nearer to me, and have acquired an interest for me through glances, expression, or words. Among these is a tall, respectable clergyman from New York, by name John Knox, and who seems to me to have a little of the historical Knoxnature of stern Puritanism, although united to much benevolence. Besides him, a family from New York also, consisting of an old lady, the mother, with her daughter and son-in-law—a handsome young couple, who have for their bridal tour visited, during eleven months, Egypt, Greece, Italy, France, &c., without having, in-the first instance, seen Niagara, or any of the natural wonders of their own country, which I do not quite forgive in them. They are now on their return, the old lady having gained the knowledge "that all human nature is very much alike throughout the world." This family, as well as Mr. Knox, are Trinitarian, and will not concede that Unitarians are Christians.

There are also a couple of young ladies from Georgia. One of them a handsome, married lady; the other a very pale young girl with delicate features, Hannah Lclever, sensible, and charming, with whom it is a pleasure for me to converse. Although belonging to a slaveholding family, she condemns slavery, and labors at home to make the slaves better and happier. She is consumptive, and does not expect to live long; but goes forward to meet death with the most contented mind. One sees the future angel gleam forth from her eyes, but the suffering mortal is seen in her delicate features.

Besides these, there are some elderly gentlemen with respectable and trustworthy countenances, who assure me that I shall find much pleasure in my journey through the United States; and, lastly, a couple of slaveholders, handsome, energetic figures, who invite me to the South, and assure me that I shall find the slaves there to be "the most hap and most enviable population!"

The days pass on calmly and agreeably. The only obJection I have to the life on board the "Canada" is the excess of eating and drinking.

Monday, October 1. The tenth day on board. It has been somewhat less agreeable during the last few days: stormy and rough. We had yesterday what they call "a gale." I endeavored, but in vain, to stand on deck. I was not made to be a sailor. We are near Newfoundland. We steer so far northward to avoid the equinoctial storms on the more southern ocean. But we have had contrary winds, and considerable storms for some days, so that we have not progressed as favorably as the commencement promised. We shall not reach Halifax till to-morrow. We shall put in there for a few hours and send our European letters to the post (for this reason I am bringing mine into order), after which we steer direct south to New York.

I am perfectly well; have not been sea-sick for a moment; but can not deny but that it seems to me rather unpleasant when, in the evening and at night, the waves thunder and strike above our heads, and the vessel heaves and strains. Fortunately, the ladies are all well and cheerful; and in the evening three of them sing, two of whom met here for the first time in the world, the "old lady," who, after all, is not so old-only about fifty-and who has a splendid soprano voice, and the pale girl and her friend, with their clear voices, sing hymns and songs remarkably well together. It is very charming and beautiful. The tones remain with me at night like consolatory spirit-voices, like the moonlight on the swell of the waves.

Last night, when the sea was rough and there was even some danger, when every movable thing was tumbled about, and I thought of my home, and was in "a shocking humor," and acknowledged it even to my fellow-voyagers, those three voices sang hymns so exquisitely till about midnight, that every restless wave within me hushed itself to repose. To-day we have better weather and

wind, and are all in good spirits. Some little children, however, are so sick that it is pitiable to see them. This next night we shall come into dangerous water. One of the great steamers, which goes between Europe and America, struck amid the surf in the neighborhood of Halifax, and suffered considerable damage. But we must manage better than that. Our captain, Judkins, is considered to be a remarkably skillful seaman. An excellent, goodtempered, and kind-hearted man is he besides; likes to come and sit in the saloon with the ladies, tells them stories, and plays with the children.

I read a deal here on board; one can get through a vast many books on such an occasion. I have read Châteaubriand's "Confessions," but without much pleasure. What can one learn from an autobiography in which the writer acknowledges that he will confess nothing about himself which would be derogatory to his dignity? It was in a manner different to this that St. Augustine wrote his Confessions, regarding merely the external eye; in a different manner Rousseau, great and noble, at least in his desire to confess to the truth. Thus will I sometimes shrive myself; for every object and every consideration is mean, except this, the highest. Châteaubriand's French vanity spoils, for me, his book; nevertheless, I have retained some glorious descriptions, some occasional profound word or expression, as well as another fresh conviction of the weakness of human nature.

I have read here, also, Miss Martineau's "Life in the East." I like to study pictures of the East, and of the earliest period of the cultivation of our race in opposition to the West-that promised land which I am approaching with a thousand questions in my soul. But I am disturbed in Miss Martineau's book by her evident endeavor to force her own religious opinions upon the life and history of antiquity. Some great and beautiful thoughts, nevertheless, run through the book, like a refreshing