Such were the incidents of my voyage. I have set them down simply, and exactly as they occurred, for the purpose of presenting a true picture of the emigrant’s life afloat. I have since learned that, in all respects, ours was an average journey across the wide waste. Intending emigrants, therefore, who picture to themselves in bright colours the glories of a sea voyage, will, by reading these pages, have their dreams modified by some touches of reality and truth, if not entirely dispelled. If, however, they are adapted for success in the other hemisphere, they will not be daunted by the trials and inconveniences I have pictured. THE SISTER’S FAREWELL. Dear Sister, sit beside my bed, And let me see your gentle smile, And let me lay my aching head Upon your kindly arm awhile; I shall not long be with you now, My time is drawing to an end: May we our spirits meekly bow, And He release from suffering send. The longed-for summer’s drawing near; The wind is softer, and the sun Streams down so brightly on me here, It almost seems already come. But now—I never more shall see The fields and lanes, all gay with flowers, Nor hear the murmur of the bee, Nor song of birds among the bowers. For here, no beauteous change we see In nature, as the year rolls on; No green bursts forth on bush and tree When winter’s chilling frosts are gone. No gentle flowers or odours sweet, In summer cheer us as we go; Nought see we but th’ unchanging street, And weary passing to and fro. The summer, though ’tis summer still, Seems not the same while we are here. How sweet the thought of that clear rill, That trembled from the hillock near To our old house! I sometimes think, With my eyes closed, and half-asleep, That I am lying on the brink Of the old fish-pond, still, and deep. Methinks in one of those sweet nooks, Beneath the hanging willow-trees, I listen to the cawing rooks And busy humming of the bees. And, moodily, I watch the trout Make circles in the tranquil pool; And watch the swallows skim about, And feel the breeze so fresh and cool.