To probe his heart and watch his changing cheek,
At once the observer’s purpose to espy,
And on himself roll back his scrutiny.”
Friday, July 3. We have at last a breeze from the northwest, which is leading us out of this region of calms. Our latitude is 35° N. Our thermometer ranges at seventy,—rather a cool temperature, considering that we are so near the vertical rays of a cloudless sun, wheeling around his northern bourne in his career of flame to the Line. But the temperature of the Pacific never undergoes those extreme changes to which that of the same latitude in the Atlantic is subjected. The cause of this difference is probably found in the relative disproportion of sea and land over which the tides of the atmosphere pass in the two oceans.
Three seamen came into my state-room to-day to converse with me on the subject of religion. They stated that for several weeks their attention had been drawn to this subject, and that they had now resolved to renounce every sin, and seek an interest in Christ. I encouraged them in this good resolution, gave them books suited to their frame of mind, and invited them to our evening prayer-meeting. These are the bows of promise which span the dark tides of ocean.
Saturday, July 4. This is the anniversary of our national independence. The crew have been permitted to spend it as they pleased; no duty being required of them beyond what is essential to keep the ship on her course. Some collected themselves in groups, and spun patriotic yarns about naval actions in the last war; some sung the star-spangled banner; some waxed eloquent at the idea of a war with Mexico, and some sat quietly mending their old clothes. The young were generally the most eager for hostilities, and seemed to think they could hew their way with a cutlass and a pound of pork to the halls of the Montezumas.
Commodore Stockton gave an elegant dinner to his officers. Many sentiments, kindled by the examples of the glorious past, went round; and many thoughts of home and hearts left behind, melted in an under-tone through the festivities. How veneration, gratitude, and pride, will grow in the breast of an American, in a distant clime, over the memory of those who perilled their all in the Revolution! They rest in immortal remembrance amid the flowers and fragrant airs of earth:
“By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung.”
Sunday, July 5. Though the morning has been overcast with flying clouds, from which dashes of rain have fallen, accompanied with sudden gusts of wind, giving every thing the air of discomfort, and rendering the ship rather uneasy, yet we have had our regular service. The subject of the discourse was, Profaneness—its degrading effects, its prohibition in the rules of the service, its violation of the laws of God.