which afterwards assume the tadpole, and subsequently the fish shape. I wish I had seen his pamphlet before, as I should then have observed more closely.
28th.—What a night has passed! Incessant thunder, lightning, and wind, accompanied with torrents of rain and hailstones of a very large size. Sleep was out of the question. I was frequently on deck to observe the vivid flashes of electric matter, which illuminated the ocean around; and on one or two occasions I saw a steady light, which sailors call Jack-o'-the lanthern, continuing at least ten minutes on the mast-head. During this storm we sailed ten knots an hour, shipping a tremendous sea occasionally.
Do you ever think of me? I hope you do, at least in your morning and evening petitions to the Throne of Grace. I think of you, and pray for you every time that I offer up my prayers and thanksgivings for myself.
October 1st.—I have been in a poetical mood again; yet dissatisfied with the labours of my brain. Last night (when I wrote them) I thought my lines sublime,
To-day I think some of them bordering on the ridiculous. Between the two, you know, there is but a step; you shall have them, however, but please to bear situation and circumstances in mind. I was alone on the deck on a beautiful moon-shining night, when the poetical afflatus seized me. Whatever the character of the poetry may be, these lines are faithfully indicative of my feelings, and of the communion which subsists between my head and heart:
I gaze on the moon—I gaze on the moon—