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THE AMARANTH.

THE DISCIPLE OF ST. HELENA.

THE joyful sound of "Land ho!" was proclaimed from the mast-top, and soon echoed through the ship. It was a beautiful morning in June. The trade winds, soft and gentle as the zephyrs, filled our sails; and we had retired to rest the preceding night, hoping, with the morning light, to welcome the long-desired Island of the Tomb. Three months had we ploughed a sluggish southern ocean, or been tossed on the rough waters of the Cape, without once having made the land. Wearied and sick; our water bad and scarce, and our provisions still worse; the captain profane and cross; the mate drunk and quarrelsome; and the whole ship's crew dissatisfied, sick, or complaining; never was a sound more welcome than the cry of "Land."

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