ous after we entered the gulf. Ninety
miles across is the entrance of this majestic river; it seems an ocean
in itself. Half our time is spent poring over the great chart in the
cabin, which is constantly being rolled and unrolled by my husband to
gratify my desire of learning the names of the distant shores and
islands which we pass.

We are without a pilot as yet, and the captain being a cautious seaman
is unwilling to risk the vessel on this dangerous navigation; so that we
proceed but slowly on our voyage.

August 7.--We were visited this morning by a beautiful little bird, not
much larger than our gold-crested wren. I hailed it as a bird of good
omen--a little messenger sent to bid us welcome to the New World, and I
felt almost a childish joy at the sight of our little visitor. There are
happy moments in our lives when we draw the greatest pleasure from the
most trifling sources, as children are pleased with the most simple toy.

From the hour we entered the gulf a perceptible change had taken place
in all on board. The captain, a man of grave, quiet manners, grew quite
talkative. My husband was more than usually animated, and even the
thoughtful young Scotchman became positively an entertaining person. The
crew displayed the most lively zeal in the performance of their duty,
and the goldfinch sung cheerily from dawn till sunset. As for me Hope
was busy in my heart, chasing from it all feelings of doubt or regret
that might sadden the present or cloud the future.

I am now able to trace distinctly the outline of the coast on the
southern side of the river. Sometimes the high lands are suddenly
enveloped in dense clouds of mist, which are in constant motion, rolling
along in shadowy billows, now tinted with rosy light, now white and
fleecy, or bright as silver, as they catch the sunbeams. So rapid are
the changes that take place in the fog-bank, that perhaps the next time
I raise my eyes I behold the scene changed as if by magic. The misty
curtain is slowly drawn up, as if by invisible hands, and the wild,
wooded mountains partially revealed, with their bold rocky shores and
sweeping bays. At other times the vapoury volume dividing, moves along
the valleys and deep ravines, like lofty pillars of smoke, or hangs in
snowy draperies among the dark forest pines.

I am never weary of watching these fantastic clouds; they recall to me
the pleasant time I spent in the Highlands, among the cloud-capped hills
of the nor