Lovers are never sea-sick, but now a hoarse chorus, indescribable and hideous, rises from hidden recesses of the ship.

They are not in love, they are sea-sick.

May it do them all possible good! "Here we are at last.

I hasten to finish this rambling letter that it may catch the steamer, which, I am told, leaves to-day.

Nine days we have been at sea, and the general impression seems to be that the last part of the passage has been rough.