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are viewing with one rendered inestimably dear to us, by the remembrance of its beloved objects, and the tender recollection of past happiness. We pass over, as points in time or space, the years or seas that separate us; and by a cherished delusion, find ourselves arrived at the moment of re-union, cheered by the embrace of friendship, or locked in the arms of love and beauty.
The Island of Tristan d'Acunha, and the circumstances attending our view of it, brought forcibly to mind the beautiful apostrophé to Hope in Mr. Campbell's poem.
Angel of life, thy glitt'ring wings explore
Earth's loneliest bounds, and ocean's wildest shore.
Lo! to the wintry winds the pilot yields
His bark careering o'er unfathom'd fields.
Now on Atlantic waves he rides afar,
Where Andes, giant of the western star,
