SUNDAY, FEB. 28. It is Lent; and the family that live the next door to mine, are at their evening prayers. They were merry as a marriage-bell during carnival, and now they are in sackcloth and ashes. Religion has a wide vibration to reach these extremes of mirth and melancholy. But life itself is made up of vicissitudes; wealth disappears in poverty; smiles dissolve in tears; and the light of our mortal being goes out in the night of the grave. But there is a higher life that is never overcast—a spirit-home, where sorrow and change come not. Thither let the weary lift the eye of faith, and forget the cares which environ their pilgrimage here. MONDAY, FEB. 29. Our harbor has been thrown into some commotion again by another of the great leviathans of the deep. The U. S. ship of the line Columbus, commanded by Capt. Wyman, and bearing the broad pennant of Com. Biddle, entered our bay in stately majesty this morning. She came in before a light breeze, under a vast cloud of canvas, and rounded to in splendid style, near the Independence. She is the largest ship that has ever been on this coast. Ladies and gentlemen watched from hill-top and balcony her approach. She is last from Callao; her crew have recovered from the effects of the East India climate, and her officers are all in excellent spirits. They preferred, of course, a more immediate return home, but evinced no want of alacrity in obeying the mandate that has brought them here. I find among them my esteemed friend, the Rev. Mr. Newton, highly and justly respected in the service. We separated in Philadelphia to meet in California! After this we may expect to encounter each other at the North Pole! TUESDAY, MARCH 3. The U. S. ship Warren, under Commander Hull, is in from San Francisco. She is now in the fourth year of her cruise, and has hardly copper enough on her to make a warming-pan. Some say she will tumble to pieces if an attempt is made to get her around Cape Horn. But she has weathered many stormy headlands, and would undoubtedly weather that. Still, she may be detained here as a harbor-ship; but wiser heads than mine will determine that question. Her crew ought to be permitted to return; it is cruel to keep men out as they have been. The sailor’s lot is hard enough, indeed, when every suitable effort is made to relieve it. There are but few drops of real happiness in his cup of sorrow. He has his pastimes, it is true, but they partake more of insanity than sober gladness. He is cradled in adversity, reared in neglect, and dies in the midst of his days; and over his floating bier the ocean thunders its dirge.