OUR passage across the Atlantic was disagreeable in the extreme. The weather for the most part was bad, and calms and heavy adverse gales so frequently retarded our progress to the westward, that it was not until the fifty-ninth day from that on which we left Ireland, that we discovered the American coast. I shall not attempt to describe the joy which the sight of land, a sight that at once relieved the eye from the uninteresting and wearisome view of sky and water, and that afforded to each individual a speedy prospect of delivery from the narrow confines of a small trading vessel, diffused amongst the passengers. You, who have yourself made a long voyage, can best imagine what it must have been. The first objects which meet the eye on approaching the American coast, south of New York, are the tops of trees, with which the shore is thickly covered to the very edge of the water. These, at a distance, have the appearance of small islands; but as you draw nearer they are seen to unite; and the tall forest rising gradually out of the ocean, at last presents itself in all its majesty to your view. The land which we made was situated very near to the bay of Delaware, and before noon we passed between the capes Henlopen and May, which guard the entrance of the bay. The capes are only eighteen miles apart, but within them the bay expands to the breadth of thirty miles. It afterwards becomes gradually narrower, until it is lost in the river of the same name, at Bombay Hook, seven leagues distant from the Atlantic. The river Delaware, at this place, is about six miles wide; at Reedy Island, twenty miles higher up, it is three miles wide; and at Philadelphia, one hundred and twenty miles from the sea, one mile wide. [Sidenote: SHORES OF THE DELAWARE.]