rehend so much of interest and novelty,--or
is it the soul tuned to deeper thoughts and holier sympathies than are
wont to engage it, which steeps us for the remainder of our voyage in
the luxury of repose? A mingling of all, I suspect. And happily the
sentiment seems universal. Christie, who, warned by her painful
experience of the steamer's oscillations, as she swung like a pendulum
on the sea-swell off Staffa, has been only too glad to accompany us on
shore at Iona, is not only relieved of her sea-sickness, but insured for
the rest of the trip. Somehow she, the Bailie, and I find ourselves
among that large proportion of our company who have gradually migrated
to the forward part of the boat, where, forgetful of the
conventionalities which have hitherto restrained us, we are grouped on
the fore-deck in whatever listless or indolent attitude the prevailing
mood may suggest. The August afternoon is drawing to a close, and the
sun is declining. Our share in the day's labor--though it be but
laborious pleasure--is done; the remainder of the task devolves on the
Pioneer, and, while she ploughs the waves, we have but to rest,
meditate, and congratulate ourselves and one another. There is a hum of
merry voices from the knot of gay young Scots, whose spirits are toned
down, not damped, by the experiences of the day. Our English girls, with
their young brother, are prettily grouped on the deck-floor, the latter
stretched at the feet of the youngest girl, and exchanging with her
those sweet confidences which always exist between a chivalrous boy and
the sister nearest his own age. Their confiding parents have remained
aft, as have a majority of the elders of the company; but, though youth,
freedom, and high natural spirits preponderate at our end of the boat,
peace seems to be brooding over us with dove-like wings.

We are still skirting the bold, precipitous shores of Mull, the central
loadstone which has kept us all day to our course, and now and then our
attention is especially engrossed by the view of her rugged cliffs,
terrible in winter's storms, and her natural arches of basalt, through
which the sea washes at high-water, and which betray in every feature a
family likeness to great Staffa. But for the most part our hearts and
thoughts now are with the past, and gratitude and thanksgiving are
welling up within us for a day on which sunshine, fair breezes, and a
prosperous voyage have combined with Nature's most glorious re