As the ships left the harbor there was apparently no notice taken of their departure by those on shore or in the vessels anchored around them. Every one seemed impressed with the conviction that we were engaged in a hopeless enterprise; and the squadron seemed rather to have slunk away on some discreditable mission than to have sailed for the accomplishment of a grand national scheme. It was just dawn when the Agamemnon got clear of Queenstown harbor, but, as the wind blew stiff from the southwest, it was nearly ten o'clock before she rounded the Old Head of Kinsale, a distance of only a few miles. The weather remained fine during the day; and as the Agamemnon skirted along the wild and rocky shore of the southwest coast of Ireland, those on board had an excellent opportunity of seeing the stupendous rocks which rise from the water in the most grotesque and fantastic shapes. About five o'clock in the afternoon Cape Clear was passed, and though the coast gradually edged away to the northward of our course, yet it was nearly dark before we lost sight of the rocky mountains which surround Bantry Bay and the shores of the Kenmare River. By Monday, the 19th, we had left the land far behind us, and thence fell into the usual dull monotony of sea life. Of the voyage out there is little to be said. It was not checkered by the excitement of continual storms or the tedium of perpetual calms, but we had a sufficient admixture of both to render our passage to the rendezvous a very ordinary and uninteresting one. For the first week the barometer remained unusually low, and the numbers of those natural barometers--Mother Carey's chickens--that kept in our wake kept us in continual expectation of heavy weather. With very little breeze or wind, the screw was got up and sail made, so as to husband our coals as much as possible; but it generally soon fell calm, and obliged Captain Preedy reluctantly to get up steam again. In consequence of continued delays and changes from steam to sail, and from sail to steam again, much fuel was expended, and not more than eighty miles of distance made good each day. On Sunday, the 25th, however, the weather changed, and for several days in succession there was an uninterrupted calm. The moon was just at the full, and for several nights it shone with a brilliancy which turned the smooth sea into one silvery sheet, which brought out the dark hull and white sails of the ship in strong contrast to the sea and sky as the vessel lay all but motionless on the water, the very impersonation of solitude and repose. Indeed, until the rendezvous was gained, we had such a succession of beautiful sunrises, gorgeous sunsets, and tranquil moonlight nights as would have excited the most enthusiastic