Two weeks after the news of the pope's death had been received in other cities, and the drapery of mourning become dusty, the cathedral bells here commenced tolling at sunrise, and continued the entire day until dusk. The chimes in Rome were never struck with more regularity, and when the sun sank to his home in the west a sigh of relief was felt, that every thing has an end. If the day was spent by the Catholics in mourning for the pope, the night was spent by the visitors in giving expression to the most jubilant demonstrations of joy--the festivities being gotten up by the Yacht Club, which appears to be the only central live-figure head-light in the city now. On this occasion the Yacht House was illuminated with Chinese lanterns, which encircled it over the water's edge; calcium lights blazed with overpowering brilliancy, and the most dazzling rockets shot through the air like meteors, while the brass band discoursed very loud, stirring strains, and the little boats glided about on the bay, like _ignes-fatui_, with lights suspended on their masts or on their bows, glittering through the darkness, resembling a distant constellation. With the freedom of uncaged birds, fresh from bondage, every one appeared buoyant, giving themselves up to the pleasure of the hour with a kind of _abandon_ as if, after all, it might be a panoramic view produced by some Eastern Magi. After the illumination on the water was ended, the string-band commenced playing, when busy feet kept time to the harp and viol, without a thought of the confessional which would have to be met before the next sacrament. For a few days past the weather has been rather capricious, the sunshine hidden behind damp clouds, and the wind more boisterous than sight-seekers enjoy. We imagine some of the tourists' note-books are full enough of complaints. The weather is delicious now, the air all balm, the sky all blue, the bananas waving in the gentlest of breezes, the sea heaving softly under the sunlight. We shall miss this changeful sea at St. Augustine, the reviving air, the lovely palms, the mocking-bird upon whose happiness the day closed too soon, as from his perch in a neighboring orange-tree he trills his song of joy until the night is far spent.