On the morning of the 25th, the wind coming round to N.E., signal was immediately made, when with hasty steps we all repaired to the boats lying at the sea-beach, ready to convey us on board. In a little time the embarkation was completed, and about noon we were under way, standing down channel with a lively breeze, and a fine clear day. The bustle and commotion, incident to the beginning of a long passage, the stowing away of animated and inanimate lumber, with a train of other preparatory measures, were attended with the confusion and noise that generally takes place on such occasions, and it was not until we had got pretty well out to sea that matters subsided into something like good order and regularity. The cabin was not much better than those narrow prisons usually are in the West India Merchantmen, but afforded tolerable head room to those who were not descended from a race of giants. The berths, or cupboard looking dens, intended to do the duty of sleeping places, on either side, were hammered up in a very rude style, without regard to comfort or convenience, presenting nothing whatever to allure to peaceful slumber the unfortunate being who was doomed to be incarcerated in them. Their odour was not exactly of a kind to rival that of the rose; such as they were, however, we had no alternative; a hammock suspended from the ceiling of the cabin would of two evils have been by far the least. The officers were all a cheerful and good tempered set of men, each resolved to contribute his mite to the general stock of harmony; and thus assist to lessen the miseries that form unavoidably part and parcel of a shipboard life. Politely speaking, the fair ladies ought to have been first alluded to. Those whom we were so fortunate as to have for our companions, were well disposed to lend their aid in promoting whatever might tend to relieve the tiresome voyage. We could not therefore fail of being as happy as mortals could expect, under all the circumstances. While passing the Needles, the pilot took his leave, burthened with numerous epistles and billet doux, to wives and sweethearts. We gave many a longing lingering look to his weather-beaten skiff, as it glided swiftly to the shore, viewing it as the last connecting link of that chain which bound us to Old England; but now alas! to be severed, while we remained under mournful feelings, which the bright aspect of surrounding things could hardly dissipate. It was beautiful to behold, on that sunny day, the prospect on either side, whether we looked to the green hills of the Isle of Wight, or on the rich and varied scenery along the coasts of Hants and Dorset. Sailing at the rate of six or seven knots, we rapidly bounded through the water, and, bearing away to the south-east, in a few hours we cleared the English Channel.