THURSDAY, JAN. 28. Our harbor has been enlivened to-day by the arrival of the U. S. ship Lexington, commanded by Lieut. Theodorus Bailey, an officer that might well have been promoted years ago. Capt. Tompkins and his company of one hundred and forty men, and field train of artillery, are on board. She brings out also Capt. Halleck, U. S. Engineer, who is entrusted with the erection of fortifications at this place and San Francisco. The Lexington is laden with heavy battery guns, mortars, shot, shells, muskets, pistols, swords, fixed ammunition, and several hundred barrels of powder. She has also a quantity of shovels, spades, ploughs, pickaxes, saws, hammers, forges, and all the necessary utensils for building fortifications of the first class; and what is better still, she brings with her a saw-mill and a good grist-mill. FRIDAY, JAN. 29. The U. S. ship Dale, W. W. McKean commander, sailed to-day for Panama. She takes the mail which is to cross the isthmus, and reach the United States by the West India steamers. As soon as her destination was known, a hundred pens were at work, transferring to paper affections, fond remembrances, kind wishes, and a thousand tender, anxious inquiries. How absence melts the heart. The cold is kindled, the indifferent clothed with interest, antipathies melt away, and endearments revive with undying power. I love the very stones over which my truant footsteps ran, and could kiss the birch rod that chastised my youthful follies. What language, then, can portray the love which clings to one who throws sunlight through the shadows of this dark world, or paint the cherished hope that buds into being with— MY INFANT BOY. I have not seen thy face, my child; They say each look and line, Which o’er thy father’s aspect plays, Is miniatured in thine. They tell me that thy infant voice— Its wildly warbled tone, Seems to thy mother’s listening ear The echo of my own. I know it not, but fondly deem That such a thing may be, And trust thy father’s better hopes May long survive in thee. I have not seen thy face, my child, Though weary moons have set Since mine and thy glad mother’s eyes In tender transport met:— For ere thy being dawned to light, Or knew what life might mean, Our ship had earth’s mid circuit swept, And oceans rolled between. I waft thee back a father’s kiss— A pledge of that wild joy, Which o’er his yearning heart will rush, To clasp his infant boy.