Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes:
'Tis from no stranger-land I now depart:
'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs.
Welcome and home were mine within the land
Whose sons I leave, whose fading shore I see;
And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and hand,
When, fair Columbia! they turn cold to thee.
At three P.M. our pilot quitted us; by four we had lost sight of the coast of Jersey, and, with a flowing sheet, were bounding over the Atlantic. Except a week's bad weather on the Banks of Newfoundland, this was a most delightful passage. No ship could be better found than the Algonquin, and no man more solicitous about the comfort of his passengers than the excellent Captain Cheney.
On July the 14th we made Cape Clear; and on the 16th I once more entered the Mersey, about the same hour, and on the same day of the month, in which I had left it two years before; and to make the coincidence more striking, we passed the Europe, in which I had gone out, so close, as she quitted the harbour, that our letters for America were tossed on board.