We are surrounded by an army of the grampus whales. Their breathing adds a fiend-like wildness to the voices of the night,—and their dusky forms looming through the obscurity as they thrust their misshapen backs above the surface of the sea, give an almost infernal aspect to the scene, _if scene that may be called which is but half perceived_ in dimness that appears, “Not light, but rather darkness visible.” But come below!—We are happily exempt from the necessity of dangerous exposure, and the force of the salt spray that has been driven in our faces with stinging effect for the last half hour begins to weaken the impression of this magnificent display of Omnipotence. Man would find room for selfishness and vanity amid “the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds.”—Your complexion is in danger! So if you would avoid the hard looks of a weather-beaten tar, it is time to seek the shelter of the cabin. There I can amuse you with pictures of other night scenes by sea and land, until this short-lived tropical squall is over, or you feel inclined to retire to your state room. In another hour we shall probably be bounding along merrily, with all sail set, and the moon beams sparkling and playing _hide-and-go-seek_ among the little rippling waves with which a six-knot breeze roughens a subsiding swell! ----- [2] The scene of this sketch is laid in the tropical Atlantic, between the northern and southern trade-winds;—a region of calms and baffling winds. [3] The corposant, an electric ball or brush of light, sometimes witnessed during storms at sea. * * * * * AGATHÈ.—A NECROMAUNT. IN THREE CHIMERAS. BY LOUIS FITZGERALD TASISTRO. Chimera III. Another moon! And over the blue night She bendeth, like a holy spirit bright, Through stars that veil them in their wings of gold; As on she floateth with her image cold Enamell’d on the deep, a sail of cloud Is to her left, majestically proud! Trailing its silver drapery away In thin and fairy webs, that are at play Like stormless waves upon a summer sea, Dragging their length of waters lazily. Ay! to the rocks! and thou wilt see, I wist, A lonely one, that bendeth in the mist Of moonlight, with a wide and raven pall Flung round him.—Is he mortal man at all? For, by the meagre firelight that is under Those eyelids, and the vision shade of wonder Falling upon his features, I would guess Of one that wanders out of blessedness! Julio! raise thee! By the holy mass! I wot not of the fearless one would pass Thy wizard shadow. Where the raven hair Was shorn before, in many a matted layer It lieth now; and on a rock beside The sea, like merman at the ebb of tide, Feasting his wondrous vision on decay, So art thou gazing over Agathè!