light of the rising sun with a rich rosy hue, beautifully in contrast
with the different tints of the foliage of the deep woods already tinged
with the brown of autumn. Spike Island lay "sleeping upon its broad
shadow," and the large ensign which crowns the battery was wrapped around
the flag-staff, there not being even air enough to stir it. It was still
so early, that but few persons were abroad; and as we leaned over the
bulwarks, and looked now, for the first time for eight long years, upon
British ground, many an eye filled, and many a heaving breast told how
full of recollections that short moment was, and how different our
feelings from the gay buoyancy with which we had sailed from that same
harbour for the Peninsula; many of our best and bravest had we left
behind us, and more than one native to the land we were approaching had
found his last rest in the soil of the stranger. It was, then, with a
mingled sense of pain and pleasure, we gazed upon that peaceful little
village, whose white cottages lay dotted along the edge of the harbour.
The moody silence our thoughts had shed over us was soon broken: the
preparations for disembarking had begun, and I recollect well to this
hour how, shaking off the load that oppressed my heart, I descended the
gangway, humming poor Wolfe's well-known song--

"Why, soldiers, why
Should we be melancholy, boys?"

And to this elasticity of spirits--whether the result of my profession,
or the gift of God--as Dogberry has it--I know not--I owe the greater
portion of the happiness I have enjoyed in a life, whose changes and
vicissitudes have equalled most men's.

Drawn up in a line along the shore, I could scarce refrain from a smile
at our appearance. Four weeks on board a transport will certainly not