or the cause of it, and coolly smoked cigars, and speculated about the World's Fair.

"We're in for it," said one at my side; "and, as the ship has only broken her engine once in thirty miles, we have cause for congratulating each other on the excellence of her machinery, and the prospect of reaching Europe in a month." I lauded his composure in the hour of adversity. We became friends, and forgot the accident in each other's company.

Night gradually approached; the watches were appointed, and preparations made for sea; but the vessel remained stationary. The only incident that occurred worthy of note was a quarrel between the first officer and one of the sailors. The tar came on board drunk, and when called on deck to take his place in the watch, became insolent, and inclined for fight. He was ordered below, but disregarded the officer, and drew his knife to plunge it into the mate, but was knocked down for his pains, and very unceremoniously tumbled down the hatchway of the forecastle, and the hatch closed upon him, so that he might reflect upon his conduct in the dark.

This was our first night out of port, and we were not thirty miles on our voyage. The ship was at anchor, her engines out of order, and dissatisfaction general among the passengers. The cabins were really splendid; but the rich carpets and gaudy mirrors, ample saloons and convenient state-rooms, did not make the machinery whole. We were about to cross the Atlantic, and our engines were already impaired. The captain made the best apology he was capable of at the tea-table; but that did not repair the break; and although it was Saturday night, and a glorious moon shone calmly down upon the placid waters and motionless ship, not one of the passengers was content with his prospects. Speculation was busy as to the future; the probabilities of further accident were discussed; stories of sinking ships repeated; and one by one we stole to our berths with the hope of better prospects on the morrow.

The night passed away, day dawned, the steam was gotten up, the anchor hove to the merry and cheerful tones of

"Billy Bown's a jolly sailor!
Who stole the ham?"

and, as the iron arms of the powerful mass relaxed their hold on the muddy depths of the Delaware, the impatient ship dashed proudly on her way, as if glad to be once more at liberty. The morning was serene, calm, celestial. The soft breeze from the south was laden with dews and the breath of flowers, and a more magnificent morn never ushered in the Sabbath. Earth and water, air and light, all seemed to be glorifying the great Creator, and the little birds sang, like the stars of old, praise to Him who reigns forever. Every heart was elated; the boders of evil disappeared; hope took the place of dissatisfaction; and as the vessel left one well-known point after another far astern, and the day advanced, we began to realize the fact that we were really departing. There were several clergymen on board, and as the passengers numbered nearly seventy, the captain proposed religious service, which received the assent of all, and at the sound of the ship's bell we repaired to the saloon, and listened to a sermon by a minister from Erie, Pa.

The vessel made rapid progress after leaving her anchorage, and was soon off Cape Henlopen, where she was "lain to," for the purpose of discharging her pilot. He took his departure, carrying with him a large number of letters from the passengers to friends at home. As soon as he was cleverly clear of the ship, she was put upon her course, the captain assuming, for the first time, the command. The engines worked well, and the sails being hoisted immediately, we ran to sea finely, with a fair breeze and prosperous weather. At three in the afternoon, every vestige of the land was gone. I watched the receding line of beach until it faded from the sight into the vast body of waters around, and felt as if Hope and Regret, like two sisters, had parted at my side-the one to cheer me on the long journey in prospect before me; the other to dwell with those near and dear to me at home. Every mile we sailed seaward separated us the farther from our friends, and the waters of the ocean grew greener and greener as the distance increased, until they finally assumed a deep, dingy, greenish-blue color, by no means brilliant to view. The sun set tomewhat obscurely, and the moon and stars shone brightly over she restless and tireless waves. The wind veered to the east and north, blowing directly against us, and greatly impeding our progress. The sails were all furled, and, in nautical phrase, everything made snug for the night.

We were now fairly at sea. The sky bent above us, like the counterpart of the ocean beneath, and the waves began to cause a motion in our ship by no means agreeable to some of our passengers. Neptune, inexorable tyrant, became exacting, and landsmen began to grow serious and uneasy, and many of them retired at an early hour, not because they were sea-sick, but because weariness had overtaken them.

The first few days out are usually the most disagreeable of a voyage, and the passengers are not generally blest with good appetites. Our breakfast-table, on the morning of the second day, was but indifferently attended, and those who did pay their respects to it were not well. Headaches were prevalent, and the motion of the ship was unpleasant; but no one complained of seasickness-all believed they would escape that malady-and the ladies were not even disposed to acknowledge that they were suffering from it, although their appearance sufficiently proved they were.

But few persons take much interest in the details of an Atlantic voyage unless some remarkable occurrences are recorded; and, as nothing transpired worthy of remark until our fourth day out, it will be useless to bore the reader with descriptions of life on board. We occasionally saw a "school" of porpoises, a flock of petrels, or a fleet of the little mollusque, which sailors call "Portuguese men-o'-war!" A fog, so thick that it was impossible to see twenty yards from the ship, covered the ocean at one time for twenty-four hours. A sharp look-out was kept to prevent accident, and the bell tolled at regular intervals, to give the alarm to vessels in our vicinity. There was an old tar on board who had been at sea forty-seven years, with but little intermission, and he usually performed the part of sentinel when it was his watch on deck. The sailors favored him, and never allowed him to go aloft if they could prevent it. He wore a thick coat when on duty in the fog, into the pockets of which he thrust his arms quite to the elbows, and stood, like old Neptune himself, gazing into the sea; his bright eye peering into the mist, with a pleasant twinkle in it that lit up his ocean-tanned visage with the rays of cheerfulness and content.

"How long have you been going to sea, my gay young fellow?" said I to him, as he was looking thoughtlessly right into the dull mist by which we were surrounded.

"Since I was thirteen," he replied, touching his hat with a pleasant smile, "and I never was so dry in the forty-seven years I've been a sailor as I am now, sir!"

"Good!" exclaimed a passenger at my side; "give the old chap some brandy; he deserves it for that;" and he did get a bottle of the best in the ship; and he and I became the warmest of friends.

The vessel, up to this period, made very fair progress, and we had almost forgotten the accident that occurred to her machinery while in the Delaware, when a heavy jarring was heard in the engine-room, and the ship shook through all her timbers. Crash followed crash in quick succession, and the noise was frightful in the extreme. The passengers were dismayed, and every one eager to learn the particulars of the accident, for something of a serious character had evidently befallen our engines. The nature of the break was made known to us by the captain, and we were assured that it was a mere trifle, and would be repaired soon. The ship was put under canvass, and as the winds were ahead we advanced slowly, the vessel rolling heavily on the waters. A cold, gloomy sky spread over us, and the ocean became greatly agitated. The day went down without a smile; the only ray visible was a gray streak along the western horizon, which added a more dismal appearance, if possible, to the sullen and chafed waters. Darkness gathered fast, and, as it increased, and the western gleam faded slowly out, the expanse of heaving sea, with naught visible but our lonely and crippled ship, rendered the scene at once grand, awful, and desolate.

The accident was remedied about sundown, and the vessel put under steam, but the engine did not perform to the satisfaction of any, and broke again with a frightful noise early in the evening. This time the break was serious, and the officers no longer attempted to screen from the passengers the actual condition of the ship. The rock-shaft of the air-pump, a very important part of our machinery, had snapt asunder, and as there was no other on board to replace it, we were in a very unpleasant situation. The night was stormy, the condition of the vessel disheartening, and the passengers were mostly restless and anxious. They collected in little groups in various parts of the saloons, where they conversed about their prospects. Complaint was loud, and the countenance of each was serious in expression. Not a single individual had confidence in the machinery, and many conjectures were ventured as to our fate. Sleep fled the lids of the faint-hearted, and not many of the courageous sought the drowsy god. The night advanced, and each silently retired to his stateroom, prepared, however, for making his appearance on deck in the dark, should his presence be required there.

During the night, the captain held a consultation with his officers as to the best course to be pursued, and the decision was to continue the voyage.

The engines were started occasionally, but they made a fearful noise, and the jarring shook the ship from keel to truck. They had been changed from the low to the high-pressure principle, in the hope that they could be made to perform during the remainder of the passage; but it was found that there was a serious waste of steam, in consequence of which the force of the machinery was not sufficient to recover the eccentric at each stroke of the piston, and when such was the case the propeller would make a reverse movement, and a crashing noise would follow that was really frightful. In addition to this, we had head-winds to contend against, and a moderately rough sea, two things by no means calculated to elevate our hopes under the circumstances.

At the breakfast-table, on the following morning, the captain made known his determination to continue the voyage, and assured us that, although the engines had failed, he had every confidence in the ship, and was sure that he would accomplish the passage without the aid of steam in a reasonable time, or in four or five days more than at first supposed. He said that a proposition had been under consideration to run the vessel to Halifax for repairs; but as that port was full six hundred miles from where