They are your only friends; For where this foul life ends, Alone beginneth truth, and love, and faith; All which sweet blossoms are preserved by death. _Saturday, 31st._ Becalmed again till about two o'clock, when a fair wind sprang up, and we set to rolling before it like mad. How curious it is to see the ship, like a drunken man, reel through the waters, pursued by that shrill scold the wind! Worked at my handkerchief, and read aloud to them Mrs. Jameson's book. * * * * * * * * * * Set my foot half into a discussion about Portia, but withdrew it in time. Lord bless us! what foul nonsense people do talk, and what much fouler nonsense it is to answer them. Got very sick, and lay on the ground till dinner-time; went to table, but withdrew again while it was yet in my power to do so gracefully. Lay on the floor all the evening, singing for very sea-sickness; suddenly it occurred to me, that it was our last Saturday night on board; whereupon I indited a song to the tune of "To Ladies' eyes a round, boys,"--and having duly instructed Mr. ---- how to "speak the speech," we went to supper. _Last_--_last_--dear, what is there in that word! I don't know one of this ship's company, don't care for some of them--I have led a loathsome life in it for a month past, and yet the _last_ Saturday night seemed half sad to me. Mr. ---- sang my song and kept my secret: the song was encored, and my father innocently demanded the author; I gave him a tremendous pinch, and looked very silly. Merit, like murder, will out; so I fancy that when they drank the health of the author, the whole table was aware of the genius that sat among them. They afterwards sang a clever parody of "To all ye ladies now on land," by Mr. ----, the "canny Scot," who has kept himself so quiet all the way. Came to bed at about half-past twelve: while undressing, I heard the captain come down stairs, and announce that we were clear of Nantucket shoal, and within one hundred and fifty miles of New York, which intelligence was received with three cheers. They continued to sing and shout till very late. SATURDAY NIGHT SONG. Come, fill the can again, boys, One parting glass, one parting glass; Ere we shall meet again, boys, Long years may pass, long years may pass. We'll drink the gallant bark, boys, That's borne us through, that's borne us through, Bright waves and billows dark, boys, Our ship and crew, our ship and crew. We'll drink those eyes that bright, boys, With smiling ray, with smiling ray, Have shone like stars to light, boys, Our watery way, our watery way. We'll drink our English home, boys, Our father land, our father land, And the shores to which we're come, boys, A sister strand, a sister strand. _Sunday, September 2d._