Prose answers every common end; Serves in a plain and homely way, To express the occurrence of the day, Our health, the weather, and the news, What walks we take, what books we choose, And all the floating thoughts we find Upon the surface of the mind." Southey's Cowper. Ship Castor and Pollux, off Staten Island, 9 o'clock, Monday morning, June 1st, 1835. Dearest Mother, -We are fast nearing land. The pilot is already on board; and I shall soon set my foot upon the new world which is henceforth to be my home. In fulfilment of my promise, I begin thus early my journal of daily events, which I shall transmit to you from time to time as opportunity shall offer. A torrent of emotion rushes through my mind, pleasure mingled with pain-pleasure at the prospect of the happiness, I may reasonably expect in the society of a beloved husband-and pain at the thought of the long time which will probably intervene before I shall see the loved members of our home-circle, and also from the assurance that when I set my foot upon the shores of the Western continent, the broad Atlantic will roll between us. But I must turn from these sad musings to the scene around me. The passengers are all wide awake; Some are hurrying to and fro in search of baggage, while others, having succeeded in getting their trunks brought on deck, are sitting upon them and awaiting their search by the Custom House officers. But by far the greater part are standing in groups, leaning over the railing of the ship, eagerly gazing at the shore, talking earnestly of friends whom they expect to meet, or expressing curiosity at the sight of America, the birth place of the immortal Washington.