The morning of the 24th of February found us within sight of the island of Bermuda. When a few miles out a pilot came alongside, and an old colored man was soon piloting us into the beautifully picturesque harbor of St. George. The keen, vigilant eye of this man seemed to pierce beyond the narrow, but lovely passage, we were entering; and when standing upon the upper deck,--his tall and straight figure, with head thrown back, and his dexter-finger pointing, now to the right and then to the left,--strongly reminded us of an oracular seer. The water of St. George’s harbor is very pellucid, and the beautiful coral formations at the bottom can be distinctly seen as you pass to the shore. Our stay at this island--which is a gem of the sea--was only for twenty-four hours, but long enough for us to visit the beautiful scenes in the vicinity of St. George, and to be charmed with the mere _coup d’œil_ we took of them. Under more auspicious circumstances we should have been glad to remain there a month, as one of its opulent citizens kindly proposed we should do, in order to recruit for our further voyage to Halifax. Carrying wherever we went, with the story of our misfortunes, the first news of the destruction of the richest prize that had been taken by the rebel pirates, we naturally became objects of peculiar interest, and while on our little sight-seeing excursion to the settlement and vicinity of St. George, met with acts of civility and delicate kindness that deeply touched our hearts. There were two long, low, lead-colored, sidewheeled English steamers, designed for running the blockade, lying in the port when we arrived; one of which was already loaded with merchandise, and was getting up steam to leave for Charleston as we sailed for Halifax. There was a rumor that she had caused a great dearth in the article of ladies’ gloves, her owners having purchased the entire stock of the little town of St. George to take to the ladies of Charleston.