can feel their souls moved to sympathy at the sight of her children's emotions, when they at last behold her cherished soil." Poor Adelaide! she felt the current of life retire from her chilled heart, as it was oppressed by the sad thought, that no revered parent or beloved sister would receive her in the arms of affectionate love, when she landed on the smiling shore, that spread before her sight. She gazed on the countless dwellings, that met her view, with a bitterness of sorrow that was faithfully depicted in her speaking countenance. In every mourner Mrs. St. Orme saw a friend; and understanding the nature of her companion's affliction, from a conversation she had the evening before with Colonel Desmond, she pressed her hand, saying in the kindest tones of benevolence, "You will find friends every where; in that hospitable land there are many warm hearts, to whom you will quickly be dear." The expression of Adelaide's gratitude, though mute, was eloquent, and she soon recovered herself sufficiently to answer, with apparent ease, the various inquiries put to her by Mr. St. Orme and Colonel Desmond, who now appeared to offer their services. About nine o'clock all was again commotion in the ship; many a strange figure might have been seen in the cabins below. Here Mr. Webberly, doffing his white cotton nightcap, and reeling on the floor, was cut short in the ecstasy of a yawn, and of an outstretched arm, and balancing opposite leg, by a return of the sickness, which had kept him below stairs all night, to Adelaide's great joy. There a fop was calmly settling his hat, so as to display the glossy curls, that were to appear below its edge, to the utmost advantage. Behind that white dimity curtain a lady is viewing herself in a pocket glass, and laments her bilious complexion; but quickly comforts herself with the reflection, that she can wear a veil, and in a day or two she shall be ten times fairer than ever. One gentleman is damning the steward for suffering his sea store to be demolished, who appeases him by saying he will give him another hamper to ransack. There is the wag of a mail coach, continuing his jokes with a fat cook, whose tongue has seldom ceased since they left London, in the endeavour to persuade every one she met that she was a lady of great consequence, and who literally talked all night, to the edification of the people in the cabin with her. An odd looking man is running about with a box of artificial flowers, tormenting every body, by asking if the custom-house officers will seize them; and to every reply rejoining, "I'll just give them a trifle, just a trifle. Do you think they'll search my night sack?" Lastly, the English Abigails loudly declare they shall die; and the Irish that they _will_ die, whilst in the intervals of sickness they endeavour to quiet a set of squalling children.