the lower regions, and dragging themselves on deck with pale and dejected countenances. Madame A. has such a sweet-toned voice in speaking, especially in her accents of her bella Italia, that it is refreshing to listen to her. I have passed all day in reading, after a desultory fashion, "Les enfans d'Edouard," by Casimir Delavigne, Washington Irving, d'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature, &c. ; and it is rather singular that while there is a very tolerable supply of English and French books here, I see but one or two odd volumes in Spanish, although these packets are constantly filled with people of that nation, going and coming. It is that they do not care for reading, or that less attention is paid to them, than to the French or American passengers? One would think Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Calderon or Moratin, better worth buying than many common-place novels which I find here.
3d.—Yesterday the wind blew soft as on a summer morning. A land bird flew into the ship. To-day the wind has veered round, but the weather continues charming. The sea is covered with multitudes of small flying-fish. An infantile water-spout appeared, and died in its birth. Mr. , the consul, has been giving me an account of the agreeable society in the Sandwich Islands! A magnificent sunset, the sight of which compensates for all the inconveniences of the voyage. The sky was covered with black clouds lined with silver, and surrounded by every variety of color; deep blue, fleecy, rose, violet, and orange. The heavens are now thickly studded with stars, numbers shooting across the
