Ah no! there is no journey to Cuba this time! The journey from Mobile began under the most promising auspices. Octavia was gay and full of hope; she was now for the first time, after her sorrow, about to leave home and see new objects, and she was pleased to be with me, and I was pleased to be with her. The good Doctor le V. had presented his little wife with a handsome sum of money, that she might be able thoroughly to enjoy herself in Cuba. Octavia's mother, and her two pretty little girls had taken an affectionate leave of her, in the hope of seeing her return happy. Betsy was to travel with us, for Betsy spoke Spanish almost as well as Octavia; and Octavia could not dispense with Betsy, nor could Betsy live without Octavia; and Betsy was full of cheerful zeal, and managed cleverly and expeditiously all the business of the journey.
We went on board, and the morning sun arose gloriously over Lake Pontchartrain. We advanced the whole day calmly and in sunshine. We sate in Octavia's spacious cabin, I beg pardon, state-room, amid bouquets of flowers, inhaling the balmy atmosphere through the open window, and reading aloud, or conversing tranquilly with heartfelt, calm emotion. The moon shone gloriously in the evening. We sate on deck, some gentlemen made our acquaintance; introduced themselves, or were introduced by others, and soon formed a circle around Octavia, whose naturally easy and agreeable style of conversation always exercises a captivating power. It was late when we retired to rest. I perceived in the middle of the night that our course was suddenly checked, I rose and looked out of the window,—the moon shone bright over the mirror-like lake, and—we had run aground. It was about one in the morning. The next morning at six o'clock we were to have been at
