ersifying
with numberless effects of light and shadow the whole panorama, shining
upon the glowing sea, touching the topmost crags with sparkling
grandeur, and bathing in beauty the thousand-tinted green of the forest,
is the sun, which, on the eastern horizon, is rising clear and bright
and steady. And so we gaze rapturously on the wide and beautiful
picture--a picture the remembrance of which will remain with us long:
our first sight of the new land of hope and promise.

Varied are the emotions that take possession of the individuals of our
company; but I think there are some among us, more thoughtful or
sentimental, perhaps, who, unconsciously to themselves, draw a kind of
inspiration from the noble scene. To such there seems, in those majestic
cliffs, sea-swept and forest-crowned, first seen as lighted by the
rising sun, a nameless sermon preached, a wordless lesson taught, an
everlasting poem sung. And our minds and spirits are calmed, refreshed,
and invigorated; while in some dim way we grasp ideas that the silent
scene irresistibly conveys to us. Rising within us, as we gaze, comes
with fresh new force the knowledge of the qualities that should be ours:
the high-hoping courage, the unshrinking energy, the dauntless
resolution, and the unfailing industry that must animate the colonist,
and be the best endowments of an inceptive nation!

Later in the day we round the North Cape, and go sailing on down the
coast, with light and rather baffling winds that eventually bring us to
port on the following evening.

Among our passengers are several old colonists, who are returning from a
visit "home." In the colonies Great Britain is always spoken of as
"home," even by colonial-born people. Talk about the raptures at
returning to "my own, my native land!" that is nothing to the transports
of joy that now infect our colonists. They laugh, they sing, they dance
about the decks, they chatter "sixteen to the dozen," and display every
eccentricity of unbounded delight and satisfaction.

Probably a good deal of this is put on for the edification of us new
chums, but there is no question that most of it is an expression of real
feeling. All through the voyage these good people have been in great
force, relating numberless yarns of their past experiences, more or less
truthful in detail. But now their self-importance is overwhelming and
superior to all considerations. Every headland, bay, or island that we
pass is expatiated up