e solemn scene;
while a fresh breeze gave the ship a steady keel. Occasionally the
beautiful prayers were interrupted by the roar of the foaming waters as
the ship plunged onwards; then swelling on the breeze and mingling with
its wailings they were wafted, we would fain hope, to that peaceful home
to which we were sending our shipmate. A chilling plunge announced his
passage into the mighty deep, leaving no trace to mark the spot on the
wave, which swept on as before.

The wandering and strange life of the deceased became the theme of
conversation during the day, and many interesting anecdotes were
recalled. On one occasion he had passed a few days in a vessel that had
been turned bottom up in a squall, but which, luckily, having a light and
shifting cargo, floated. His only companions were two negroes, who, with
the apathy of their race, spent the principal part of the time in sleep.
It was by boring a small hole through the vessel's bottom, and pushing up
a stick with a handkerchief attached, that they were enabled to attract
the attention of a passing ship, by whose people they were cut out. Old
Mitchell's propensity for fishing was very singular. Almost down to the
last, when in his hammock under the forecastle, he would have a line
passed to him whenever he heard fish playing about; and he would catch at
it as it was drawn through his fingers, until exhausted nature failing he
fell into a lethargic sleep. His situation latterly was peculiarly
pitiable. Worldly affairs and a future state were so painfully mingled,
that it was impossible to determine whether or not resignation
predominated. He evidently recoiled from the awful contemplation of
futurity, and sought refuge in the things of this life. Even whilst in
the pangs of death he could not conceive why he should be so cold, and
why his feet could not be kept up to a heat which nature, in obedience to
the dictates of infinite wisdom, was gradually resigning.

We arrived at Swan River on the 31st, under circumstances which must
forcibly illustrate to a landsman the precision with which a ship may be
navigated. We had not seen land for fifty-two days, and were steering
through a dense fog, which confined the circle of our vision to within a
very short distance round the ship. Suddenly the vapour for a moment
dispersed, and showed us, not more than a mile ahead, the shipping in
Gage's Road.

We found a vast improvement in the colony of Western Australia since our