Left to my own thoughts,--the memories of my past life,--I dreamed away the hours unconsciously, and as the time sped on, I knew not of its flight. Some strange sail, seen from afar off, would for an instant arouse my attention; but it was a mere momentary effect, and I fell back into my musings, as though they had never been interrupted. As I look back upon that voyage now, and think of the dreamy listlessness in which its hours were passed, I can half fancy that certain periods of our lives are destined to sustain the part which night performs in our daily existence, and by their monotony contribute to that renewal of energy and vigor so essential after times of labor and exertion. It seemed to me as though, the period of exertion past, I was regaining in rest and repose the power for future action; and I canvassed every act of the past to teach me more of my own heart, and to instruct me for my guidance in life after. “You can land now, whenever you please,” said the skipper to me, as by a faint moonlight we moved along the waveless sea. “We can put you ashore at any moment here.” I started with as much surprise as though the thought had never occurred to me; and without replying, I leaned over the bulwark, and gazed at the faint shadows of tall headlands about three miles distant. “How do you call that bluff yonder?” said I, carelessly. “Wicklow Head.” “Wicklow Head! Ireland!” cried I, with a thrill of ecstasy my heart had never felt for many a day before. “Yes, yes; land me there,--now, at once!” said I, as a thousand thoughts came rushing to my mind, and hopes too vague for utterance, but palpable enough to cherish. With the speed their calling teaches, the crew lowered the boat, and as I took my place in the stern, pulled vigorously towards the shore. As the swift bark glided along the shallow sea, I could scarce restrain my impatience from springing out and rushing on land. Without family or friend, without one to welcome or meet me, still it was home,--the only home I ever had. The sharp keel grated on the beach; its sound vibrated within my heart. I jumped on shore; a few words of parting, and the men backed their oars; the boat slipped fast through the water. The cutter, too, got speedily under weigh again, and I was alone. Then the full torrent of my feelings found their channel, and I burst into tears. Oh! they were not tears of sorrow; neither were they the outpourings of excessive joy. They were the utterance of a heart loaded with its own unrelieved griefs, who now found sympathy on touching the very soil of home. I felt I was no longer friendless. Ireland, my own dear native country, would be to me a place of kindred and family, and I fell upon my knees, and blessed it.