I had received several letters from my parents since my return; they were both well, and urged me to procure a furlough and go home to see them. It was some time before I could accomplish this; but at length it was effected, and having taken a seat on the coach, I set off on my journey home. On reaching Dublin I luckily found a vessel prepared to sail for Irvine, and securing a passage, I embarked next morning. The wind being favourable, we set sail, and were soon fairly in the Channel, holding on our course; the breeze continued steady all that day, and by night we had run a long way down the coast. Feeling little inclination to sleep, about midnight I came on deck. Considering the season of the year, it was a delightful night: the moon shed her silver radiance o’er reposing nature, like the smile of a fond mother over her sleeping infant, and as I gazed on her, sailing through the blue expanse of heaven, with her attendant train of myriads of sparkling orbs, I felt my mind soar beyond this earth and all its concerns. Who ever gazed upon them shining, And turned to earth without repining, Nor wished for wings to fly away, And mix in their eternal ray. While I leaned over the ship’s bow, watching the moonbeams dancing on the glassy bosom of the deep—my ear soothed with the rippling of the vessel, as she urged her way through the waters,—I felt as if shut out from the world, and emancipated from its laws and control. At sea is the place for reflection and contemplation—there the memory, as if secure in her privacy, unlocks and draws forth her secret treasures, and broods over them with miser care. Before me the softened outline of the distant coast of Scotland could be seen, its rugged points bursting through the gauzy film with which they were enveloped; but the well known rock of Ailsa stood forth in bold relief, its giant mass towering proudly above the waves, alike defying their fury and the hand of time. The sight of that rock, which the emigrant associates with the farewell to his country, called forth in my bosom a tide of recollections. When I last saw it, I was returning as now, from one of my wild adventures in search of happiness and fame; the result of both were nearly equal—misery and disappointment; the last, however, had been the most severe lesson, and I was now, like the prodigal son, retracing my way from a far country, where I had been glad, literally, to feed on the husks which formed the food of the swine. My past life glided in review before my mind, and I could not help exclaiming, What a fool have I been? I have bartered every privilege which was my birthright, in the pursuit of wild and vain dreams of renown and happiness. Setting aside the misery and hardship I have endured, has not the last six years of my life been a blank? That period of time employed in my education at home, what might I not have been? but my doom is fixed, I have sealed it myself—there was distraction in the thought.