Calm was the wave; such stillness up in Heaven Heralds the voicefulness of Deity,— Or such, on earth, o’erstoops a placid mere, Mountained all round, and sentineled of woods, And citadeled of tafted islets green. A bark lay on the deep; and from the shore Fled back rude-climbing slopes, high-terminate In snow and clustering cloud, and the hills stared With a dry burning smile up zenith-ward, Into the broad blue quiet of the sky: Quiet the sea-kissed shore—noiseless the hills— All soothed the Titan pulses of the deep— And the huge-breathing winds were caverned all, Moveless, and murmurless, as somewhere near Some god were chambered, pillowed in sweet rest. A bark was on the deep; and some few men, Plain-garbed, and bronzed by life-expending toil, Looked steadily down into the unwinking main, And saw themselves look up—and nothing more. * * * * * =GLIMPSES OF WESTERN TRAVEL.= On board one of those floating Babels, a steamer of the largest class, and bound by the way of the upper lakes for the territory of Wisconsin. The night of our leaving Buffalo was very tempestuous, which led some of the fearful passengers to inquire, “Will not the captain put into some port should the danger become imminent?” “There is no port that this boat can enter, short of Cleaveland,” was the comforting reply. In the morning the weather became calm, and the day was pleasant upon Lake Erie. A view of Cleaveland from the lake, and a very imperfect one of Detroit, as we were receding from it in the early morning, was all that I saw of the towns upon the lower lakes. Looking out upon the St. Clair river, and near the magnificent Lake Huron, Fort Gratiot lingers as a beautiful picture upon my memory. Every thing belonging to the fort looked dazzlingly white in the afternoon sun, and contrasted finely with the green foliage of the trees with which it was surrounded. The burial-ground seemed, as we saw it from the river, to be in the midst of a grove of Nature’s own planting. A retired and peaceful spot for the last rest of the weary-hearted! The evening found us far up upon Lake Huron. There was a clear moon, and it was delightful to stay out upon the guards and look upon the lake as its waves glittered in the moonlight. There was a lonely grandeur in that night scene upon “the great waters,” that brought home to the heart a sense of how little human aid could avail us there, should evil betide our vessel. That moonlight scene upon Lake Huron is placed beside the view of Fort Gratiot in the treasure-house of memory. The morning had been dark, with a wintry sky, but the afternoon was warm and bright when we arrived at Mackinack. The isolation of its situation in the far northern