ered. The missing sailor had fallen from the steps of the lee gangway, and was discovered before he had passed the ship's counter, but immediately disappeared. He was known to be a good swimmer; the cause of his sudden disappearance is left to conjecture. His head may possibly have struck the ship's side with sufficient force to have stunned him, or he may have fallen a prey to an enormous shark that has been hanging around our ship all the morning. A protracted and most diligent search was made, but not a trace of him could be found. The boat was at last recalled, and our ship filled away. The deceased was one of the most intractable and dangerous men we had on board. He had knocked down one of the crew in the dark, and stamped on the face of another at night, with the apparent intention of inflicting a mortal wound. No punishments, no counsels had the slightest effect upon him. Captain Du Pont had tried his utmost to reform him. He seemed proof both to the language of kindness and rebuke. When it was known among the crew that he was the one that was lost, not a sentiment of sorrow or regret was evinced. But on the contrary, the crew seemed as if relieved of a calamity by a mysterious Providence. This death carries one moral lesson with obvious effect to all, and that is, to have the sympathy and regret of others in death, we must command their friendship and respect in life. No eloquence can proclaim this truth with half the effect that this death has done. But the appearance of one at the bar of God so utterly unprepared for his last account, is a thought inexpressibly awful, and should strike the deepest alarm into a guilty breast. FRIDAY, DEC. 19. We were to-day, at 12 o'clock, in lat. 21° 36′ s., long. 38° 55′ w., 200 miles from Cape Frio, and 260 from Rio. The breeze which for several days past has often died into a calm, has freshened to-day, and is carrying us along with studding-sails below and aloft, some six and seven knots. We may perhaps get in on Sunday evening, but not before. We have seen nothing of the strong westerly winds which prevail in the North Atlantic during the winter months, and very little of the northeast monsoons found to the south of the equator. These winds, like broken-down politicians, have blown themselves out. A large ship, which, if our glasses speak truly, is armed, and bears a broad pennant, is in sight. All hands have been called to quarters, the breeching of the guns cast loose, the match-buckets stationed, cutlasses and pistols belted, the magazines opened, and every thing ready for an engagement. Our commodore will never be taken by surprise. His ship is ready at any moment for action. To this subject he gives his personal attention. Every division of the guns is exercised under his immediate supervision. His presence, and the interest he takes in the exercise, encourages and animates the men. He has an enthusiasm himself which he infuses into others. "Our bosoms we'll bear to the glorious strife, To prevail in the cause that is dearer than life, SATURDAY, DEC. 20. "Land-ho!" This cry from the man in the fore-top sent an exulting thrill this morning through our whole ship. We have been on the ocean fifty-two days, and not an island or even desolate rock have we seen. Our eyes have rested only on the sky and melancholy main. But now a towering headland welcomes us to a new clime and the wonders of a new shore. Mr. Morgan, our master, calculated that we should discover land this morning at half past eleven, on our starboard bow. Within ten minutes of the time, and bearing precisely as he had calculated, Cape Frio was announced by the man in the fore-top. This, after an absence from land of more than seven weeks, and the sailing of more than six thousand miles, speaks well for our chronometers, and the scientific accuracy of our sailing-master, We have been running, for several hours past, twelve knots, with the wind on our quarter. We shot past a Brazilian brig on the same course, as if she had been at anchor. The line of coast is now but a few miles distant, and heaves its soaring peaks into the sky. The sun is setting in splendor. As the night deepens apace, sheets of moonlight descend through the rifts of the floating darkness above, while a long train of phosphoric light flashes behind our keel. The storm on the lofty coast becomes still more grand and awful. Every mountain-peak becomes a blazing fortress, and shakes with the heavy thunder. The very sea trembles under this artillery of the sky. "And this is in the night-most glorious night! 8 86 CHAPTER III. RIO DE JANEIR 0. BAY OF RIO.-SCENERY.-ASPECT OF THE CITY.-ROYAL PALACE AND SAN ANTONIO. CLIMATE.-THE UNKNOWN COUPLE.-DIAMONDS.-FARE- Land-ho-from the mast-head swelling, On the breeze its music throws, Where the soul may find repose. SUNDAY, DEC. 21. We found ourselves on Sunday morning off the harbor of Rio. The first object that here arrests the eye is a rocky isle swelling abruptly from the sea, and crowned with a pharos, that had thrown its light some thirty miles to us the night before. Between this and the main land on the left, soars another mass of rocks, while a corresponding one rises with a savage aspect on the right. These wave-encircled bastions resemble those posted by nature on either side of the Dardanelles, through which the grim spirits of Europe and Asia challenge each other. Within the entrance on the left rise the steep |