103 
LUS 
¢ 
*¢ As one who, wandering in the starless night, 
Feels momently, the jar, of unseen waves, 
And hears the thunder of an unknown sca, 
Breaking along an unimagin’d shore.” 
All is as safé and straight into harbour as a turn- 
pike road, 

The week’s indulgence from home is at end ; 
we return up to Kingston. The morning aspect of 
the mountains, and the air coming from them over 
_ the waters, are very different from the scenery and 
sensation of the sea, as the breeze lulls to slumber 
atsunset. The day is very little more than up.— 
The gray mountain masses show some three cr four 
gradations of depth, barely looking “misty and 
wide.” ‘lhe peaks do not wake up in night caps : 
they are not kerchiefed in clouds. The Long- 
mountain, beneath the triple pointed crests of the 
far of heighis, specially distinguished as the Blue 
mountams, fills the foreground dark and crouching, 
and reminds one of the Sphinx at the foot of the 
Pyramids. The dwellings of the city rise with a 
border of ascending smoke trailing out seaward.— 
The ships lie out in the calm, looming large and 
hazy. The fluttering waters just rippie by the boat, 
with the sails barely bulging to the air. It is a quiet 
journey, with some three or four other boats taking 
the iand breeze with us. We slip by the mangroves 
with searcea leaf more than just winking. A cou- 
ple of pelicans flap past us: a flock of wild ducks 
winnow high over head: a gull screamsas he flies 
by lazily; a heron or two, like snow flakes, float 
