PENSACOLA in those days was the paradise of midshipmen. They, with their seniors, the lieutenants, gave themselves up to the gaieties of this seaport town. It was always noted for the pretty girls that had their homes there, and of course they were always “belles” when the Gulf Squadron was at its rendezvous. Like the Norfolk girls, they were very full of “sea knowledge.” My friend, John N. Maffitt, in a charming little story of his, makes an old veteran officer say to a middy: “Mr. Forbes, a leopard cannot change its spots, neither can a Norfolk girl be otherwise than beautiful and d-d dangerous. At school their first class reader is ‘Dorsey Lever.’ Every Sunday they study the ‘Navy Register,’ and when standing on the ‘Bridge of Sighs’ with ‘spooney’ midshipmen by their sides they become instructors of astronomy, nautical romance and the abstruse science of knotting and splicing.” Well, her Pensacola sisters can equal the Norfolk girl, and “sighing sailors, beautiful senoritas, scowling rivals and love-sick middies” filled the tropical air of that old town in my young days, and “music, moonlight, love, and flowers” were the living inspiration!

After refitting we proceeded on our way northward, stopping at Savannah, Georgia, the seaport town of the captain's native State, where he was received with great cordiality, and our ship visited by many of its inhabitants. The captain took advantage of the occasion to visit his old home near Darien, Georgia, and to my great delight I accompanied him, and visited my home and family after many months of absence. We were quite the observed of all in our bright uniforms, and I felt the great importance of my position as an officer of the Government, though only a midshipman! We enjoyed our week's visit to the fullest extent, and took stage coach for the city of Savannah, passing through the Counties of McIntosh, Liberty, etc. Experiencing some runaway tilts in the coach and four, we capped the climax late in the evening by the driver going to sleep and upsetting the stage in a marsh while driving over a causeway. Fortunately for me, I had the seat with the driver, and soon extricated myself by jumping clear of the wreck. Not so, however, with the inside passengers; they had to climb through the upper windows of the coach. The rotundity of the captain made this rather a hard job for him and he lost no time in addressing the driver in sailor parlance, not very complimentary. After all were rescued alive and unhurt and the driver had meekly borne his share of abuse for his carelessness, we prepared to start again.

Righting up the coach, and being re-seated, we passed the remainder of the journey in laughing and joking over the ridiculous plight to which we had been reduced, the captain declaring he “ran no such risks at sea, where he was much more safe than on terra firma.” Upon arriving in Savannah we joined our ship and set sail for New York. At the Brooklyn Navy Yard we found the Frigate Savannah fitting out for her first cruise, and bearing the broad pennant of the commodore of the Pacific Squadron. I applied for orders to this vessel, which I received, and reported for duty on board—Captain Andrew Fitzhugh, commanding—October 20, 1843.

As soon as the Frigate Savannah was ready for sea we set sail for Rio Janeiro on our way to the Pacific. After a remarkably pleasant voyage we anchored off Rio on the 18th of December. The geographies truly say that the peerless bay of Rio, upon which the city is situated, is scarcely rivaled in beauty by the far-famed Bay of Naples. On nearing the coast the first object that presents itself to the mariner is “Sugar Loaf Mountain.” This mountain is about nine hundred feet above the sea. There are many other mountains, among them the “Organ,” so called from the resemblance it bears to the pipes of a huge organ; also “Table Mountain,” whose summit is flat. I believe it is this mountain that is called by the Portuguese “Square Topsail,” as it quite resembles that article of rigging to a practiced eye. Of course the climate of Brazil is warm, and subject to the dread usurper of such climates, yellow fever; but it is very much tempered by the breezes that come from the sea. The city of Rio has a great deal in it to enjoy. We midshipmen went on shore at the first opportunity, and being somewhat tired of ship fare found our way to a restaurant and ordered a supper. When the bill was presented it was up in the millions in their currency (with which we were not then familiar) and was truly startling. We became very much alarmed and thought we were a lot of “busted individuals,” but managed upon a financial explanation to settle the bill. Previous to this supper we had “taken in” the town, visiting, among other places, the beautiful Cathedral. Upon entering this building we handed a very officious and self-important guide some small change to show us around. After showing us through the Cathedral proper he invited us into a feastroom, where he told us the priests the night before had held a banquet. Judging from the empty ale bottles it must have been quite a banquet! He kindly offered us some of the ale (of which we partook), this being my first and last experience of ale drinking in a church.

After taking in water and provisioning ship, we continued our voyage around the Horn, encountering rough weather, heavy gales, boisterous seas, and a very low degree of temperature, being nearly frozen for three weeks off the pitch of the Cape. The violence of the gales forced us down to latitude 62 degrees south. After rounding the Cape we shaped our course northward in the broad Pacific, and welcomed the more temperate clime of the lower latitudes.

IN THE very early part of this cruise I find from old letters (one of which I will insert) that I was very much impressed with San Domingo and the surroundings, and must have picked up some traditions from the islanders.

After this digression I will proceed to Callao, where we arrived and safely put into our old anchorage, March 6, 1845. We found there at anchor the Store Ship Relief, the English Line of Battle Ship Collingwood, the English Steamer Cormorant, and the French Sloop of War Triumphante. This made it very gay. Every evening we were off watch or duty we fell into our old habit of going on shore for a horseback ride or some other pastime. In looking back at those days when, as the poet beautifully expresses it, “Life was in its spring,” it took very little to awaken our mirth, and less with health and freedom from care to make us happy.

On the 2d of April we set sail for Valparaiso, taking on board Captain Armstrong, returning home. After a very boisterous passage we arrived in Valparaiso on the 20th of April, and on the 25th experienced a very heavy gale from the northwest, which made our little vessel toss and pitch terrifically, with seas breaking entirely over us. One or two ships went aground. The next morning the shore presented an appearance of wreck and disaster. We were glad to leave this insecure bay, and on the 29th sailed on our return to Callao, having landed Captain Armstrong at Valparaiso.

This city is the principal port of Chile, and while the bay upon which it is situated is capable of sheltering a large fleet or squadron, it is open to the north, and when winds prevail from this quarter it is scarcely a safe anchorage. Its name being interpreted means “Vale of Paradise,” which it must have acquired from the delightful climate and picturesque scenery. It is quite a seat of commerce and is in the direct route of vessels proceeding to the countries bordering on the Pacific.

My service on the Schooner Shark ended here and I was transferred to my old ship, the Frigate Savannah, bearing the broad pennant of Commodore John D. Sloat.

While the service on board the little Schooner Shark was very much enjoyed, it was a pleasure to get back to the strict man-of-war discipline and etiquette of the frigate. We had a fine band of music on board, and were constantly receiving and exchanging visits with the officers of the foreign ships in port, principally English and French. After weeks of this life we were rejoiced to hear “all hands up anchor,” bound for the Sandwich Islands. This voyage took us across the broad Pacific, and after falling into the trade winds we sailed for days without changing the course of the ship or trimming the yards. The entire voyage—so calm was the sea and so moderate the wind—might have been made in an open boat. We came to anchor in Byron's Bay, Island of Hawaii, a beautiful land-locked bay, with the tropical growth coming down to the water's edge, while high up in the mountains could be seen streams rushing down precipices to mingle with the waters of the bay in silver spray. No sooner was the ship brought to anchor than we were surrounded by canoes with outriggers to steady them from capsizing, loaded with tropical fruits of all varieties. The natives, instead of passing from one boat to another to reach the side of the ship, would pass the fruit and disappear overboard, coming up alongside the ship. As they were unencumbered by dress, this diving was easy to accomplish, and they appeared quite as much at home in the water as out of it. The deck of the ship was soon spread out liberally with all the beautiful fruits, thereby rejoicing the eyes that love the beautiful in Nature, and giving pleasure to officers and crew with the feast in anticipation, grown in this Paradise of the tropics.

The natives then were a simple and confiding people, influenced for good by a missionary's family who lived among them. The dress of the females consisted of a loose flowing gown made from the bark of a tree. The males wore a coarser fibrous material of the same sort. The chief luxury in life seemed to consist in bathing. On the outskirts of the village was a beautiful pool of fresh water, formed by a stream coming down the mountain side, and they could be seen at all hours of the day going in and coming out, as merry as dolphins at play. Little children, just able to scramble up the rocks, would reach an elevated position and spring over into the pool with the exquisite grace of nymphs. Upon this island is the famous volcano of Mauna Loa, which has several times poured its streams of lava down the mountain side into the sea, destroying the fish for miles along the coast. The day after our arrival several of us got permission to visit this volcano, and secured a sufficient number of natives to carry our change of clothing in a “Sandwich Island trunk,” which was really two immense gourds fitted into each other, the larger half over the smaller, thus making it air and water-tight. The mode of carrying was also novel, one on each side of a pole over a man's shoulder, being evenly balanced; the sticks so smooth and glossy that they did not even bruise the bare shoulders of the carrier. We at once began to climb the mountain, through beautiful groves of guava, a fruit peculiar for its water properties of slaking thirst, and which we enjoyed freely when no spring or stream was by. In many places we passed over beds of lava, like molten glass of greenish hue. After a tiresome day's jaunt we came to the “half-way house,” utterly broken down. We were glad to rest on the clean mats furnished us, and enjoyed still more the relief afforded by their process of lomi-lomi, or, as it would now be called, “massage treatment.” This was a gentle pounding of every muscle of the body and limbs with the fists. Before retiring, however, to this refreshing treatment we took the precaution to order our supper. They suggested a nice dog, but we said we preferred chickens and vegetables. They cook delightfully, in holes lined with smooth rocks in which they build fires. When the rocks become thoroughly heated to the highest degree they put in the poultry cut up in pieces of convenient size, wrapped in large plantain leaves so as to retain all the juices; then they cover these carefully prepared packages with hot rocks, over which they bank earth, leaving a vent hole for the steam to escape. This process of cooking retained all the flavor of meats and vegetables, and was delightful. I suppose it is akin to the process of barbecuing still practiced in portions of the world, especially our own South. We arose in an hour or two and enjoyed this royal feast, “fit for the gods,” then indulged in a cigar or two, and after a little merrymaking sought our luxurious couches of mats and slept soundly until the sun awoke us the next morning. Awaking with renewed energy we had the remnants of our feast of the evening before, with the addition of a nice cup of coffee, and proceeded up the mountain, arriving at the crater of the volcano about noon. The view was strikingly grand and wonderful to eyes that had never before beheld such workings of Nature. At the bottom of this extinct crater, about seven miles in circumference and several hundred feet deep, was a burning lake of lava some three miles in circumference and boiling like a pot of hominy. Our guides proposed our going down to the burning lake, to which we assented, and with long staffs furnished us we began our perilous descent. This feat we accomplished without accident, walking upon the congealed lava to the very edge of the burning lake. Our guides were very careful to approach on the windward side, as it would have been instant death to have the wind blow on us across the molten lake. We however approached it in safety and near enough to put our staffs into the burning lake. After accomplishing this feat we gladly retraced our steps, and were a little hurried in doing so when told “that a shift of wind would destroy us.”

Now came the “tug of war” in the ascent of the precipitous sides of the cavern, often stopping at convenient points to view the depths below. We reached the surface above just at sunset, and surveyed with amazement the wonderful fissures in the earth through which came sulphurous fumes and steam. Along the margin of these fissures were beautifully crystallized formations of sulphur. As night approached we seated ourselves to view the magnificent pyrotechnics of Nature. The boiling caldron below presented a lake of fire spurting up the boiling lava in every conceivable and beautiful shape. This wonderful sight banished slumber from our eyes till the “wee sma' hours,” when we could no longer resist “tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep.” Early the next morning, after partaking of a light breakfast and a cup of refreshing coffee, we retraced our steps down the mountain, delighted with the specimens of lava we had obtained and put in our Sandwich Island trunks. We arrived at the village by the sea just in time to take passage in the sunset boat for our ship. The enjoyment of this visit to the crater of Mauna Loa lingers with me still, and is one of the unforgotten pleasures of my life.

IN A few days we took leave of this charming island and its beautiful scenery and made sail for Honolulu, Oahu Island, reaching that port in two days. This port, even at that day, was the most important among the group of Sandwich Islands. Here the whalers gather to transfer their cargoes of oil and do their trading. Drunkenness and debauch was even at this early day showing itself among the poor natives from their contact with (so-called) civilization. Different, indeed, from Byron's Bay, where innocence and purity were presented in its primeval state. Our first visit to the shore was an official one, that of the commodore and his staff (of which I was a member) to call upon King Kamiamaha the third, then reigning monarch. Upon entering his palace each one, from the commodore to the least important of the party, was requested to place his signature in a book presented by one of the king's officials. The reception room was nicely furnished , but presented no feature of European royalty. In a few minutes the king entered the room dressed in a full uniform in European costume liberally covered with gold lace. He seemed very ill at ease, but was a fine specimen of the Kanaka, or Sandwich Island type. After exchanging the compliments usual on such occasions we took our leave. When out of the palace the missionary who accompanied us remarked, “The king will soon get out of his trapping and don his tappa-robe and go to the beach and his bath, where he spends most of the time.” The surf bathing practiced by these natives is of a most exhilarating character. Taking a little float of reeds, called a balsa, they work their way outside the heavy rollers, then watch their opportunity and get their balsa pointed in towards the shore, and on top of the largest billow would come rushing in at tremendous speed to the beach, where the receding billow would leave them stranded. Shouldering their balsa they would go through the same sport time and again, till wearied of the healthful exercise and pastime. The natives generally were a fine-looking class of people; olive-colored, with black eyes, and long black hair, and of dignified mien. At that day there were very few foreigners on the island—only a few missionaries and their families. The women were fine equestriennes and always presented a picturesque appearance. There is a famous ride there through what is called the “valley of death.” The legend that gives it this name is this: During one of their tribal wars the victorious tribe drove their flying foe up this valley, which terminated in an abrupt precipice of 1000 feet or more, violently precipitating them into the sea, and, like Pharaoh's hosts of old, “the waters covered them up” and they were seen no more!

After making quite a stay at Honolulu we sailed for Mazatlan to gain some information from the United States of the rumored threatened war with Mexico. Mazatlan lies on the west coast of Mexico. Here we remained from November 18, 1845, till June 1, 1846. Six months we passed waiting anxiously for the treaties between the United States and Mexico, which all seemed tending to war. During our long stay at this port we sometimes amused ourselves hunting. The game was fine and abundant. Upon one occasion, going some distance back in the country to shoot pheasants, a party of us called at a good-looking cottage on a ranch and asked for buttermilk. We were invited in, and found a number of nice-looking women and a few very surly looking Mexicans. We were served with delightful milk, and left. After we got out of hearing we remarked to each other upon the cut-throat, brigandish looks of the men, and decided to be on our guard and within hearing of each other in our hunt. We were not mistaken in our suspicions. A short way from the ranch we noticed the fellows tracking us, guns in hand. Catching sight of them before they did of us, we changed our course, taking a direct line to the coast. They evidently intended to shoot us from the thicket. Notwithstanding this damper to our enthusiasm as sportsmen, we got up a fine flock of pheasants, and water fowl from the lake near the sea, returning on board with a nice lot of game and no disasters.

On the 1st of June, 1846, learning that war had been declared with Mexico, we set sail for Monterey, where we arrived in safety and found at anchor the Sloops of War Cyane and Levant. On the 7th day of July we landed with a strong force and took formal possession of California, and hoisted the American colors. The name “California” is said to have been first used in an old book in Spain, and to mean “Island of Gold.” While the legend is incorrect as to California being an island it may correctly be termed a country of gold, possessing as it does the richest gold mines yet discovered in the world. California at the date of which I write was almost an unknown country. A Jesuit mission was founded there in 1776, and through the rich valleys were missions, walled to resist the depredations of the natives. In the grounds surrounding these missions they cultivated the fruits and vegetables of Europe, which grew so luxuriantly as to surpass anything ever seen in their native country. The vines, too, grew to great perfection and the pears were splendid. The grape had become so popular when we were there that the people of the country would bring pitchers of home-made wine—a most palatable and delightful beverage—to refresh us when we went among them. The women were kind and polite when we had occasion to stop and ask questions, but the country homes were conspicuous for the absence of the male members of the family. These were forming in squads or being organized to resist the invasion of the country. We left on shore a sufficient number of soldiers and seamen to hold possession of Monterey, it being at that time the Capital of California. There was no demonstration by the natives against our holding peaceable possession of the town.

After properly appointing the city authorities the squadron sailed for San Francisco to take possession of that point. There landing a force we immediately proceeded to build a blockhouse to guard against any attack from a large force. At that time the town of San Francisco consisted of only about half a dozen frame houses. Leaving a sufficient force at this place we sailed for the bay of San Pedro, where we arrived October 7th. On entering the harbor we passed the American Merchant Ship Vandalia, with a large body of men on board. She was at anchor. She saluted us with two guns, and gave three cheers, which we returned. Captain Gillespie, of the Marine Corps, came on board and reported that he had evacuated the Puebla de Los Angelos on account of the overpowering force of the enemy. He retired on board the Vandalia after having spiked his guns. He also reported that all lower California had risen in arms against our authorities, headed by Flores, a captain in the Mexican Army.

We made preparations for landing at daylight the next morning, when we landed 299 men. A few of the enemy, twenty or thirty men, were in sight on the Angelos road, a few more showing themselves and drawn up as if inclined to give battle. At 8 A.M. the entire force, under command of Captain Mervine, took up the line of march for the purpose of retaking the Puebla de Los Angelos, the enemy retreating on the advance of our forces. A whaleboat arrived from San Diego bringing news that Captain Merritt, a volunteer, had been forced to retire on the American Ship Stonington, the enemy cutting off all provisions from them and collecting in great numbers. About 10 o'clock several discharges of artillery were heard distinctly in the direction of the Angelos road. About 11.30 we discovered our forces returning toward the landing. At 2 P.M. the expedition arrived at the landing, having encountered the enemy with a field piece, which they moved from point to point, with their horses attached. Our men made three gallant charges, chasing them each time about half a mile, but they being on fine horses would keep out of musket range, when they would wheel and fire on our men, killing several. Finding it impossible to capture the gun the retreat was sounded. Upon arriving at the landing a council of war was held. It was decided that without horses for hauling a field piece rapidly it would be useless to make the effort to capture the enemy, and the forces embarked.

Dispatches being received from San Diego, stating that Captain Merritt with forty men had taken possession of the town, Lieutenant George Minor, with Midshipmen Morgan and Duvall and a force of fifty men, were sent on board the Whale Ship Magnolia to take passage to San Diego to reinforce Captain Merritt. One week after I was dispatched in the second cutter to ascertain the condition of affairs at San Diego, a distance of sixty miles by sea, which I accomplished successfully, making the trip and returning in four days, and reported everything in favorable condition. We now got under way and sailed for San Francisco, where we found the enemy operating in the valley of Santa Clara. An expedition was at once ordered to be fitted out, and knowing from our sad experience at San Pedro the want of cavalry, I was ordered in our launch to transport from the north to the south side of the bay a number of horses. It was a difficult feat, but I accomplished it. My last load of horses, six in number, got very restless and could not be managed. I expected every moment to see them stamp holes in the bottom of the launch, when all hands would be lost. I determined therefore to jump them overboard. It was truly wonderful to see the instinct of the animals. They struck out for the shore, though a mile or two distant. To my great surprise we found them all the next morning safely on shore near where they landed. We now landed from the ship a force of blue jackets and marines, with a field piece, accompanied by the cavalry, and started in pursuit of the enemy.

FROM sources apparently reliable we learned that the enemy were in force in the neighborhood of Santa Clara Mission. We made easy marches, coming to camp about sunset, always sending some cavalry ahead to select a camping ground and butcher beeves in readiness for our arrival. After the fatiguing march of the day we would arrive at camp thoroughly prepared in appetite to enjoy the California beef. The cattle grazing on the rich grasses and wild oats of the fertile valleys were superbly fine. “Jack Tar,” with his brother marines, would sit round the camp fires and roast his rib of beef with as much zest and pleasure as though he were native to the plains.

The second morning after leaving the ship the courier came in and reported the enemy in camp in a piece of redwoods up in the hills. As it was a rough road ascending the hills, the artillery piece and the infantry were ordered to keep in the plains, while the cavalry were detailed to reconnoitre and ascertain the exact locality and force of the enemy. Being mounted myself, I obtained permission to accompany the cavalry. We were armed with carbines and revolvers. At early dawn we started on the march. A thick fog enveloped the hillsides, and here occurred one of those strange phenomena—an optical illusion Three of us were riding abreast, somewhat in advance of the column. Simultaneously each of us cocked and raised our carbines to our shoulders to fire upon what seemed to be a few cavalrymen of the enemy coming toward us down the hill. The next instant the fog cleared and instead of the cavalry we found only a clump of bushes! We proceeded up the hill, using great caution, and in silence. Upon reaching the summit we discovered the camp of the enemy, just abandoned. We followed their trail down into the plains again, and soon rifle shots were heard and our scouts came in and reported the enemy just ahead of us, in large force, mounted. We had by this time joined our infantry and field piece. We advanced upon them, they firing indiscriminately from their horses, and retreating as we advanced. They evidently meant to draw us on to the open prairie beyond, where they could maneuver their cavalry to greater advantage. As we emerged from the timber land the enemy surrounded us, and dismounting from their horses, were completely hid by the tall prairie grass and commenced a rapid fire upon our body of men. We returned the fire, aiming only at the smoke from the discharge of their guns, for neither men nor horses could be seen. I now worked the field piece to great advantage, loading with grape and canister, and trained the gun on the point from which came the greatest discharge of the foe. The grape and canister tearing through the high grass would flush the fellows from their cover like a covey of partridges before a fowling piece, when they would mount their horses and ride to a more respectful distance. In this way we carried on a running fight till we neared the old Mission of Santa Clara. The occupants, who had crossed the mountains and taken refuge in the old mission, came out joyfully to join us in the fight. Very soon the Californians were routed and dispersed in all directions. We were received with great joy by our countrymen from the East who had crossed the plains and the mountains. Early the next morning a courier came in from the enemy to treat for peace. The offer was accepted, on condition that they deliver up all arms and horses that had been unjustly taken from the people and that they retire to their homes and become peaceful citizens. These terms were accepted, as that distant territory of Mexico had little in sympathy with the government. The large drove of horses captured were driven into a corral and we saw for the first time the dexterity with which they used the lasso. Citizens coming in and claiming their horses, such animals were immediately lassoed and turned over to the owners. It is said that the California boy, as soon as he can run around the yard, uses his lariat in catching chickens, dogs, cats, and all the domestic animals for their infantile sport, as the American boy would play marbles. The guns were all stacked up in piles, and presented a motley appearance of ancient fowling pieces that would have done credit to Falstaff's ragged regiment, and were calculated to do more harm to the persons using them than to those against whom they were directed. This no doubt accounted for the fact that only one of our men was wounded in the engagement of the previous day. We remained at the Mission of Santa Clara several days, till all hostilities were quieted, amusing ourselves hunting wild geese that covered the plains around Santa Clara in such numbers that when they rose for flight they almost obscured the sun like a cloud. We found them excellent food, and took numbers of them on board the ship. A courier was dispatched to the commodore reporting the treaty made with the Californians and their quiet retirement to their homes. Boats were then sent to the head of the bay, where we embarked our artillery piece and infantry forces, and returned to our ships, the cavalry returning by land to San Francisco. Thus ended our military operations against this peaceful people, who cared more for tending their flocks and herds and sitting “in the shadow of their own vine and fig tree” than they did for warfare. General Fremont had reached the Pacific Coast, crossing the plains and the Rocky Mountains with a force of cavalry woodsmen from the Western country, and his presence there had a most beneficial effect in suppressing any disturbances through the interior while the Navy garrisoned the seaports.

We sailed from San Francisco for the harbor of Monterey, and on the 18th of March, 1847, the joyful call of the boatswain and his mates, “all hands up anchor for home,” resounded through our ship. A salute of thirteen guns was fired in passing the Frigate Independence, the flagship of Commodore Stockton, who had assumed command of the Pacific Squadron. We manned the rigging and gave three hearty cheers, and stood to sea.

After a long and very monotonous voyage we came to anchor in the harbor of Valparaiso, with several cases of scurvy showing itself among our crew, the result of living without vegetables. On the 24th day of May we hoisted the English flag at the fore and the American at the main and mizzen in honor of the birthday of Victoria, Queen of England. On the 28th of May Lieutenant Commanding Neil M. Howison left the ship to return to the United States by the way of the Isthmus of Panama as bearer of dispatches from Commodore J. Biddle to the Government at Washington. On the 31st of May we stood to sea on our homeward passage. Off Cape Horn we encountered heavy gales, as usual off that stormy coast, and welcomed the more moderate temperature and pleasant sailing when we reached the South Atlantic.

Standing to the northward on the 21st of July we exchanged numbers with the U. S. Frigate Columbia at anchor in the harbor of Rio Janeiro. We saluted the broad pennant of Commodore L. Rousseau with thirteen guns, which was returned with the same number. We anchored in this beautiful harbor, and here got the news of the surrender of Vera Cruz to our Army and Navy; also of the battle of Buena Vista, where General Taylor, with 5000 men, had been victorious over Santa Anna with 20,000. On the 27th His Excellency Henry A. Wise, U. S. Minister to Brazil, visited the ship. We manned the yards and saluted him with seventeen guns. On the 28th of July we hove up anchor and made sail for the harbor of New York, at which port we arrived about the middle of September, rejoiced to reach our native shores after a long, arduous and eventful cruise, with successful duty and service in the Mexican War.

THE joy of the home coming of a sailor after years of absence is something that can scarcely be imagined by one who has never known long absences from friends or found “a home on the ocean wave.” In the course of a week we were all detached from our ship, where we had passed over four years, and while happy in the thought of reaching our homes, there was pain in parting from those with whom we had been associated as one family for so long a time. Of course we might hope to meet again, but things, places, persons, surroundings would “never be as they had been;” and change, the universal change that is written on all human affairs, brought over our hearts and spirits a sadness known only to parting friends. Mine was perhaps the most distant home to reach. Now began my fears as a sailor of the mode of land travel by railroad. I was possessed with the idea that I might be killed before I could reach the seaboard of Georgia, and not until I reached home did I draw a long and comfortable breath! Sailors are universally believed to be very superstitious creatures, and I dare say as a boy I had my visions of “flying Dutchmen,” ghosts, dreams, etc., but maturer years have shattered these follies as the baseless fabric of dreams and I have learned to look through Nature in all her grandeur and beauty up to Nature's God! I could only spend a few weeks in the home of my childhood, as my class were all assembled at Annapolis (the Naval Academy) studying hard for the coming examination in the spring. On my arrival in Annapolis I was placed in the room with some of my friends and companions of the Pacific Squadron who had preceded me and were applying themselves with all diligence to their books. The earnestness with which they went to work in the evenings after lamps were lit gave me serious alarm lest I should never be able to school myself to such close application. These roommates, who have proved the friends of my life, Robert D. Minor, of the grand old Commonwealth of Virginia; Robert C. Duvall, of the old North State, and Abercrombie, of Maryland, making the quartette of our room. Let me introduce my roommates more clearly as they stand reflected pictures, as it were, on the walls of the sacred halls of memory! Duvall, or as we called him, “Duvy,” was the eldest, and stood 6 feet 3 inches in height, as noble and generous in every impulse of his true warm heart as he was grand in stature as a man. He applied himself with so much zeal and closeness to his studies that he was stricken down with fever. His restless nights were made miserable by his endeavor to work the difficult problems of his geometry lessons even in his delirium or sleep. He would wake unrefreshed in the morning, declaring “if he could only solve those problems, he thought he might get well.” Finally the problems were all solved and he did grow strong and well again. Abercrombie, always mild and pleasant, I see him in my mind's eye rubbing his head (already a little bald), vowing vengeance against old Chauvenet, our professor in mathematics, for giving us such long and difficult lessons to try our souls. Bob Minor—our youngest, jolliest, happiest boy! Quick to learn and master his lessons, as quick to laugh at those who had not been so fortunate; always first to close his book, with a most triumphant smile, and exclaim, “Ready for bed!”

Our room, unfortunately, was located at the head of the stairs on the second floor of the building known as “Rowdy Row.” It was often the pleasure of those for whom it was named to make night hideous with their frolics. One favorite amusement of theirs was to get a number of 32-pound balls from the battery near by and, taking them up the flight of stairs to the end of the long piazza, roll them in quick succession the length of the piazza, where they would go thumping down the steps with the noise of thunder, rousing the sleeping inmates of the building. There was no use trying to hunt up the perpetrators of this mischievous performance—they were always “soundly sleeping.” Similar annoyances were carried on throughout by those who were not caring for the approaching examination. I am glad to state, though, that we had in that day none of those disgraceful, cruel hazings that are now practiced and are so criminal.

Upon the approach of Christmas I received a box from home—and herein I must relate a hard joke on myself. Among other things came an enormous fruit cake. Of course I had “to make merry with my friends” and give a Christmas entertainment. After smuggling in a few bottles of wine—for what would the cake be without the accompanying refreshment?—I found I had forgotten the all-important corkscrew (though I had furnished a few wine glasses). What was to be done? We resorted to the only means to get at the wine. Snapping the necks of the bottles with a quick stroke of a knife (which was accomplished dexterously), our feast began. We enjoyed both cake and wine “hugely,” as our English cousins would say, but oh, the consequences! Next morning there was a tale to be told. I—the host—was ill, very ill. I at once dispatched a messenger for the surgeon, fearing I could not survive till he came. I freely unbosomed to him my violation of all school discipline, and he, like a true medical adviser, did not betray the confidence of his patient. I heard nothing of my secret and impromptu entertainment, and was much relieved in mind and body by the good doctor's visit, he assuring me that violent and acute dyspepsia, and not broken glass, which I supposed I had swallowed, was the root of the trouble! Since that fateful night I have never had a weakness for fruit cake—no matter how black or rich—but I regret to say I have always had a tendency to dyspepsia, a reminder of youthful folly! After the Christmas holidays I applied myself most earnestly to my books, and passed a fairly creditable examination— that is, in a class of 200 I passed number 27. This class was a celebrated one and passed some remarkable men—men who are now the head of the Federal Navy; but many of the most gifted gave up their positions and stood by and were true to their Southern homes. Among these W. H. Parker, who took the first honor in the class, shared with Catesby Jones of glorious memory!

From the Naval School I was ordered to join the Sloop of War Albany at Norfolk. Norfolk is a famous old seaport town, renowned for pretty girls; and being one of the principal Stations, or Navy Yards, had always an abundance of young Navy Officers on hand. Our accomplished classmate Wm. H. Parker here found his bride, one of the belles and beauties of Norfolk. After a lapse of many years I was very happy in meeting them both at the unveiling of the statue to General R. E. Lee in Richmond, Virginia, both well preserved and happy. Norfolk in those old times was very gay, and we, being much elevated at the insignia of passed midshipmen on our uniforms, were prepared to add to the gaiety.

We were some months in fitting out the ship, and by early fall sailed for the West Indies, a delightful cruise through the Windward Islands. This cruise, however, was destined to be of short duration. While we were anchored at Fort du France—the memorable home of Josephine in the Island of Martinique—there was a want of harmony between the lieutenants and the passed midshipmen which resulted in an order that we should perform strictly the duties of midshipmen, such as “calling the watch, and lighting the candle of the lieutenant who had to go on duty.” It so happened that the first order was given to me. I declined to obey it, stating that the duty had been previously performed by the quartermasters, I considered it a menial service, and would not do it. The lieutenant of the watch urged me strongly to do it, or he “would have to report me for disobedience of orders.” I replied that “I had made up my mind fully to perform no menial duty and that he was at liberty to report me,” which he did. I was then summoned into the presence of a very irate gentleman, Captain Victor M. Randolph, of Virginia. He stormed at me violently; said he “would have me court martialed and dismissed from the service.” I very quietly told him “I would not obey the order.”

Thereupon he directed the lieutenant to “suspend me from duty and report the case to the first lieutenant of the ship in the morning.” The three other passed midshipmen in like manner refused to obey the order and were also suspended, making a very strong case of “mutinous insubordination.” We continued our cruise along the south side of San Domingo and Cuba, stopping in at various ports, which we, however, under suspension, were never allowed to visit. This continued for three months, when the confinement so affected our health that the kind old surgeon, Dr. Spotswood, reported that the “passed midshipmen must be permitted to visit the shore for exercise,” which requirement was granted and our health improved. From Cuba we ran down to Vera Cruz, where we met the flagship of the squadron, and charges were preferred against us without delay. The commodore ordered our ship immediately to the Pensacola Navy Yard, the rendezvous of the Gulf Squadron, he following soon after. On arriving at Pensacola a court martial was ordered for our trial. Here at Pensacola I made the acquaintance of Lieutenant Raphael Semmes, who had just been admitted to the bar of Alabama. He had shortly before this obtained a leave of absence from the Navy Department for the purpose of studying law. He little dreamed then the important part this knowledge of international law would bear on his future life, so thoroughly fitting him for his work in after years while in command of the world-renowned Confederate States Steamer Alabama.

THE pleasant little town of Roswell is situated in Cobb County, and took its name from its founder, Mr. Roswell King, a former resident of McIntosh County, on the seaboard. Its society was made up mostly of low country families of culture and refinement. The sisters of Captain James D. Bulloch, whose name is now famous in history as the agent of the Confederate Navy abroad, were great belles; also Miss Mary Lewis, who afterwards became the wife of one of Georgia's most distinguished physicians, Dr. Wm. Gaston Bulloch, of Savannah. I must here pay a passing tribute to this lady's grace on horseback; she has always been my ideal of an equestrienne, and I recall with pleasure our delightful rides together through the beautiful region of upper Georgia that pleasant summer. Captain Bulloch has made a valuable contribution to history in his able work, entitled “Secret Service of the Confederate Navy Abroad.” He further distinguished himself by superintending the construction of the famous War Steamer Alabama, and his successful ruse in getting her out of English waters,—but more of that hereafter.

The autumn found us wending our way coastward and homeward. It also found me filled with restless discontent and longing for the service in which I had begun my life and to which I was so much attached. This I think prompted my friends to look forward with hope to having me reinstated (feeling that I had in nowise tarnished my honor as an officer in the United States Navy) to my lost place. My venerable and distinguished relative, Hon. Thos. Spalding, of Sapelo Island, was a life-long friend of Hon. J. McPherson Berrien, Georgia's distinguished lawyer and Senator, though they had in their middle life been estranged through political differences. To him my relative generously offered to write, and took the opportunity of referring to their earlier days, in memory of which he desired him to do him the favor of using his influence in having me restored to the Navy. This letter, so well worthy of publication, a copy of which was sent to my mother, I herewith insert.

Fortified by this letter I set out for Washington City, and immediately called upon Senator Berrien, and was received by this grand gentleman with a hearty welcome and courtliness of manner which impressed me with respect and admiration. After reading the letter he expressed the greatest pleasure and satisfaction in being able to accede to the wish of his friend. He said he would review the proceedings of the court martial and do all in his power for my reinstatement. He forthwith took the matter in hand. I remained in Washington city some weeks, but soon after my return home received the official information of my reinstatement, with the other passed mid-shipmen, to our former rank and position, losing a year's pay, that being the time we were out of the service. I at once applied for orders to sea, and was soon gratified with instructions to proceed at once to Philadelphia to join the United State Frigate Susquehanna, there fitting out for a cruise to the East Indies, bearing the broad pennant of Commodore Aulick, with Captain Inman as his flag officer. I left home in the spring of 1851 for another long and very interesting cruise.

Upon passing through the city of Charleston, South Carolina, I learned that the world-renowned songstress, “Jenny Lind, the Swedish Nightingale,” would sing that night. I remained over for the purpose of hearing her. The memory of her sweet voice has remained with me ever since as one of the greatest musical privileges of my life.

The next morning I took steamer for Wilmington in the face of a heavy northeast gale of wind, and after a boisterous passage reached my destination in safety. Upon reporting to the commodore at Philadelphia he informed me that the Frigate Susquehanna had the day before sailed for Norfolk to complete her outfit. He gave me orders to proceed to that point and report for duty to the commander, which I did. On reaching Norfolk I found the officers all quartered on shore and that it would be a month or more before she could get to sea. I enjoyed very much meeting again my old Navy friends and former companions, also my lady friends at Norfolk, from which port we sailed on the memorable cruise in the Albany, from which ship I had been court martialed. I took up my lodging at a boarding house on Portsmouth Point, where a number of Navy officers with their families found temporary homes. We enjoyed social life here very much indeed. Among the boarders was a fine old gentleman from the Eastern Shore of Maryland, Major Hall, of the Marine Corps. Passed Midshipman Bennett and I roomed together. Daily as we met at dinner the Major would send his decanter of wine, asking the pleasure of a glass of wine with Bennett and myself. This we highly appreciated, but could not return the compliment, being rather young for the privilege of keeping wine for our use at table in the presence of ladies. We therefore determined to give the Major a wine supper in our room before we sailed. Accordingly, we laid in a basket of champagne and some of the choicest wines the market of Norfolk afforded, accompanied with nuts, raisins, olives, cigars, etc. We also invited a few officers to meet the Major. It is pleasant to recall at this day the memory of that very convivial party that surrounded our table, and the tales told by the genial Major, our honored guest, who was the personification of the old school gentleman, for which the Eastern Shore was so renowned. Toward the “wee sma' hours” we escorted the Major to his room, not without the assistance of his good wife, however, who came for him, his youthful hosts and escorts being about as much disabled by the festivities of the evening, so jovially spent, as was the honored guest himself!

Youth has its joys as well as its follies, and what could matter the headaches that followed such lordly fun—that lightened our purses and our hearts? Soon after this royal entertainment we joined our ship and set sail for the Island of Madeira. We took on board our Minister to Brazil, Mr. Yancey, and his family as guests of the commodore. We had a pleasant voyage to Madeira, and enjoyed the scenery and climate of that delightful island. Madeira is a great health resort for the English invalids. They have added to the picturesque appearance of the south side of the island by building beautiful homes and villas there. This island is world-renowned for the wine made there that bears its name. It is famous for its convent and the lovely lace work done by the nuns, in both of which the officers invested. I laid in several quarter casks of south side Madeira, which was much enhanced in value by its four-years' cruise around the world. Upon my arrival at home I put the wine in glass, and during the Civil War our faithful old carriage driver carefully buried it, and although the old home was often raided by the enemy, the old negro was faithful to his trust and resurrected and returned it after the war. A sale of a portion of this wine came in good time to replenish my empty pocket book at the close of the war. I still retain a few bottles to make merry on state occasions, such as weddings. When I first returned from the China cruise in 1855 a dozen bottles of this wine were used at the wedding of my cousin, the daughter of Commodore James McKay McIntosh, and some months later at my own wedding. Some years ago at the wedding in my own house of a favorite niece a bottle of the wine was used at forty-five years of age, with a bouquet and flavor unsurpassed. Some years later it was used to drink to the health and happiness of my beloved daughter upon her marriage.

But to return to my cruise and the beautiful Island of Madeira. Horseback riding was a great diversion on the island, a peculiar feature of which was that the hostler from whom you hired the beast enjoyed running along side of you and occasionally relieved the weariness of his run by swinging on to the tail of the horse. The hostler wore a remarkable cap with a keen pointed end sticking erect from his head, the cap just covering his scalp, which stuck so closely that it must have been kept on by suction. The view to which this really historic ride led was grand in the extreme. It presented the precipitous northern side of the island upon which the waves of the ocean continuously and wildly beat its even monotone, a contrast indeed to the south side, which is a garden of luxurious beauty, where rose geranium and other sweet plants (to us exotics) grow wild and in great profusion, loading the air with perfume, and the grape vine covers every available spot. After enjoying our national holiday, July 4, on this garden spot of Nature, we set sail for Rio Janeiro. We experienced some very rough weather on our passage, and discovered our mainmast sprung, which necessitated hoisting it out and making proper repairs. For this purpose we obtained permission from the Brazilian Government to go into dock, where we were detained a month or two. Captain Inman was here detached from the ship with orders to return home, leaving the command immediately to Commodore Aulick. During our long stay in port we had the opportunity of seeing much of this grand city, built upon a magnificent bay along whose shores are dotted here and there villages of rare beauty, adorned with tropical foliage; in the distance rise the Organ Mountains, remarkable for their tapering peaks and presenting some of the grandest views of any harbor in the world. This city is famous for the beauty of its cathedrals and other public buildings. The inhabitants are largely foreign, especially French and Portuguese. The handling of coffee forms the principal part of their trade. One of our greatest pleasures was to ride along the shores of this beautiful bay and visit the Botanical Gardens, a few miles from the city. The walks of these gardens are lined with colossal palms on either side, forming avenues of beauty, and the gardens are filled with every variety of rare plant and shrub of the tropics. Although in latitude 22° 56' south, the vast quantity of water of the Southern Hemisphere tempers the climate so as to make fires unnecessary, except for culinary purposes, and all the fruits of the tropics grow profusely and Nature wears an aspect of wild luxuriance as though perpetually basking in the sunshine and smile of the Great Creator.

The plumage of the birds in Brazil is gorgeous. The variety, especially of the little humming bird, is very wonderful. Even insect life is rainbow hued, and the beetle is so rich and gemlike as often to be set in gold and worn as jewelry. The nuns in their seclusion work up the brilliant feathers of the birds into flowers, rivaling Nature itself. Among the handsomest of these they imitate the variegated camellia japonica and the superb carnation, both among the fairest of flowers.

UNDER the reign of Dom Pedro II. the Empire of Brazil advanced rapidly in civilization and the fine arts. He invited to his empire talent of every kind, and rewarded it with magnanimous liberality. The officers of our ship had the honor of a reception paid us by the emperor and empress upon their visit to the Navy Yard. The emperor seemed indifferent and ill at ease, but the empress was peculiarly graceful and charming in manner, saluting us with smiles of recognition. After completing our repairs we reluctantly bade adieu to this beautiful city and made sail for the Cape of Good Hope on our way to the China Seas, or, as we term it in naval parlance, for the “East India Station.” Our run across the South Atlantic had no remarkable features and we arrived at Table Bay after a pleasant and eventless passage. The reception and welcome we met with there from our “English cousins” was warm and refreshing after the contact and intercourse with nations of other tongues. We entertained and in return enjoyed the hospitality of the English families sojourning at the Cape. There were assembled at that time a large number of English people, the soldiers of whose families were engaged in the Kaffir War.

Like all military stations, there was great gaiety and mirth, notwithstanding the nearness to the seat of war. Table Bay is an open roadstead to the northward and westward, and at seasons of northwesterly gales subject to the sea swells of the South Atlantic Ocean. Fortunately, we did not encounter any of these gales. The city of Cape Town is built in crescent shape around this horseshoe harbor, running back to the hills that rise and form the remarkable Table Mountain. Near Cape Town is located the celebrated vineyard where the “Constantia wine” is made. Occasionally we would ride out to enjoy the hospitality of its proprietor and quaff that famous wine, so exquisite, but now little known to the wine markets of the world.

After leaving the city and its suburbs and crossing the point of the cape to Simon Town, where is located the naval station and a more secure anchorage, one passes over deserts of sand over which a wind called the “harmattan” blows with great force and fury, obliging one to veil the face to protect the eyes from the refraction of the sun's rays as well as the sand. A remarkable hostelry on this lonely road attracts attention, famous only for its name, however,—“The Gentle Shepherd of Salisbury Plains,”—and we found a good glass of beer and cheese quite a refreshment and very acceptable after our ride. From Table Bay we made sail around the Cape, still shaping our course eastward. Our next harbor was that of the poetic harbor of Mauritius, said to have been the home of “Paul and Virginia.” This tender love story has delighted the youth of many climes and nations. Our first visit after arrival in port was to their graves, where we gathered some flowers from the tomb of this hero and heroine of romance, and returned on board ship quite pleased with our little jaunt. Here also we entertained many visitors on board. One striking beauty among our young lady visitors was a Parsee wearing in her nose a magnificent diamond. Her father, who accompanied her, was a fine-looking man, wearing a spotless turban of white on his close-shaved head, and his entire costume a revelation of neatness. He was said to be worth millions of pounds sterling. The island of Mauritius is remarkable for its rich production of spices, among the most beautiful of which is the nutmeg growing very much in size and shape like an apple tree. The nut is enclosed in a covering similar to the hickory nut, and when ripe cracks open in the same manner, showing the mace of commerce wrapped around an inner shell which encloses the nutmeg. We procured many specimens in their half-ripe state and brought them home in alcohol as beautiful curios.

Our next port was the very interesting Island of Ceylon. Before reaching the island some amusing incidents occurred on board ship. While far at sea, almost out of sight of land, we were boarded by small boats, conveying merchants of precious stones and gems. Many of these were frauds and cheats no doubt manufactured of glass. The junior officers invested largely, especially my friend Bennett (I will not say how many I purchased), but I was one of the fortunate ones, for among my stones was found a moss agate with an exquisite fossil fern in it, which was beautiful and much admired; but some of the juniors no doubt proved the truth of the old adage, “all is not gold that glitters.”

After arriving in port, ready for pleasure of every kind, Bennett and I visited the hotel, which was kept in fine English style, and had to lunch with us an enthusiastic native of pleasant manner and deportment. He suggested a drive out to the cinnamon gardens. We ordered a conveyance and invited him to join us. He proved a very good guide, and pointed out to us the various beauties of the drive. One striking feature was a grove of cocoanut trees through which we drove for more than a mile. Under these trees were built numerous cabins or huts, built of the cocoanut tree. He told us that the native who owned such a grove was considered rich. He at once possessed everything needed for comfort. The tree was his building material; the hull of the nut supplied his cooking and household utensils; the oil was the light for burning; the fruit itself eaten in every stage, and the milk his draught. His chairs or seats were made from the tree and his roof thatched with the leaves. Then what a delicious food the nut. Upon reaching the cinnamon gardens we passed through walks bordered by the fragrant shrub from which the cinnamon bark is gathered for commerce. In these beautiful gardens were many rare plants of the tropics, and through memory ran the old strain of the grand missionary hymn of the English Church so frequently sung at home,

We spent here a most delightful afternoon, and only returned to our ship with the setting of the sun. Our new friend, the guide, had evidently taken a fancy to us and cordially invited us to join him in a shooting excursion, stating that English snipe were to be found in great numbers on the marshes of fresh water along the quiet little streams. On an appointed day we met him on shore, fully equipped for a shooting bout. Getting into a comfortable conveyance we drove a little distance into the interior, and upon reaching a beautiful fresh water stream we found prepared for us a “float,” being two dugout canoes attached to each other, with a cocoanut thatched roof overhead to protect us from the sun, a platform upon which were placed chairs for us to be seated, a table upon which was a decanter of arack (a native drink), and a bunch of bananas hanging from the roof. A couple of Indian boys on hand paddled our craft while we shot the numerous water fowl as we floated down the stream. This was Oriental pastime in true Oriental style! On reaching the flats for snipe shooting we put our boats to the shore and landed. We found snipe in plenty, had fine sport shooting, and carried a feast to our messmates. This day's hunt proving so successful, it was suggested by our new friend that we take an elephant hunt with him, but the preparation for this, and the distance to be traveled so far, and our time so limited, we could not enjoy so great a diversion, and most reluctantly had to forego the pleasure. We witnessed in this port, however, the remarkable use of the elephant as a beast of burden in loading and unloading the shipping, taking the place of our portable steam engine. It was truly wonderful to see the intelligence of these enormous creatures, and very amusing, too. As the bell rung to cease work for dinner each elephant would stop instanter and wait to be led off to his own dinner. Among the curios I picked up at this port were two elephants carved out of ebony.

I never see an elephant without being reminded of an incident of my early boyhood, showing the viciousness of the beast. In those days of “long ago” the “old John Robinson Shows,” as they were called, went through the country on foot, taking the public road. We as children went wild with delight. I had a schoolfellow and playmate named James Pepper, a very mischievous youngster. We “took in” the circus together. The keeper allowed us, under his chaperonage, to inspect “Tip,” the huge elephant, very closely, for of course with boyish curiosity we were greatly interested in him. We made friends with Tip by giving him apples, peanuts, or anything to please him. But James on the sly gave him an oyster shell, which was not much to his taste! The next day we went again to the circus, and no sooner did Tip spy my friend James than he made at him with a snort of revengeful anger horrible to witness, and but for the timely interference of the keeper would no doubt have killed him on the spot! The keeper in great alarm roared, “Boy, what have you done to Tip?” The culprit had to acknowledge his mischief, and was charged “never to go to another circus to which Tip was attached, for Tip would never forget or forgive him.” This little incident has been told my own children, with the moral, “Never to be unkind to dumb creatures,” making my playmate's name a household word. I am glad to say when I heard last of James Pepper he was a highly respected deacon in the Presbyterian Church, with all the mischief of his childhood flown with those early days.

FROM Ceylon we set sail, or rather steamed, to the Island of Penang, at the entrance of the Straits of Sumatra. This island, like Ceylon, is under the British flag, and here we met the hearty English welcome.

We remained here only a few days, but long enough for a party of us to accept an invitation from our consul to visit him and spend the night at his bungalow on the hills, several hundred feet above the town. After landing we were first taken in conveyances peculiar to the island, drawn by small but tough little horses, to the foot of the hills, when leaving the conveyances we were comfortably mounted on the backs of similar small horses and ascended a steep and rugged path. Our steeds were as sure-footed as goats, and bore us safely up the ascent. Upon reaching the bungalow we had presented to us a scene of luxury and comfort only to be appreciated in the hot and sultry clime of the East Indies. The house was a low, rambling structure, with spacious halls and verandas, with every conceivable form of easy chair, lounges, etc., made of bamboo and rattan. The grounds surrounding the house were most beautifully laid out by a tasteful landscape gardener, and filled with rare and handsome shrubs and plants. The atmosphere was pure and bracing, entirely different from the sultry breezes below, where our ship lay in port, and from which we had been glad to escape for a few hours. It was a refreshing, restful night of enjoyment. The breakfast next morning was unsurpassed for Eastern luxury. The delicious fresh currie served up hot and steaming in all its perfection, the coffee faultless, and all the fruits of the tropics to feast the eye for beauty and add zest to the appetite. The currie here prepared is a very different article, eaten fresh, from the powder we use at home as a condiment for dressing up our stews, and must be eaten in the East Indies to be appreciated. After breakfast our ponies were brought to the door and we left the hospitable bungalow. By noon we were again on board the ship. Remaining in this port but a day or two longer, we proceeded on our course to the port of Singapore, situated at the extreme point of the Peninsula of Malacca. This port is largely occupied by English merchants, who have their residences and grounds beautifully decorated. They were always ready to entertain with lavish hospitality.

On visiting the shore we noticed the stuffed skins of the tiger, famous on this peninsula for their destruction of the natives, and indeed of all persons who venture beyond the thickly-settled towns and villages. He is called the “man-eating tiger,” and is a great terror to all. The city of Singapore is one of great importance as the trading place of the islands of the Malay Archipelago. Being a free port, the shipping of all the East center there in large numbers, while the trade of China makes an annual visit, coming down the China Sea with the northeast monsoon, laying up their junks at Singapore during the continuance of that wind, and returning home with the southwest monsoon. The jungles of this peninsula are of dense growth and inhabited by the most ferocious beasts. As a sort of compensation of Nature their birds are very beautiful, with brilliant, gorgeous plumage. I purchased here some rare specimens, ready for the taxidermist's hand. Among the great variety were two grand birds of paradise and the rarer “harp bird.” These birds I had mounted and very handsomely set up in glass cases in New York. They adorned my home till in the fortunes of war they fell into vandal hands and were wantonly destroyed. We also procured here some handsome specimens of “Malacca joint,” so highly prized as walking canes. Even at the date of which I write the predominance of Chinese tradesmen men was very marked in this port. The climate of Singapore is very salubrious, the thermometer seldom rising above 85 degrees in summer or lower than 70 degrees in winter. The foliage of course is beautiful, for there Nature wears a garb of evergreen.

From Singapore we sailed for Hong Kong. One remarkable feature of some of these Eastern seas are the schools of snakes through which ships pass. We arrived at Hong Kong, where we met some of our naval vessels, and Commodore Aulick took formal command of the East India Squadron. Here again we greeted the English flag, the emblem of that great power and nation of which it is truly said “the sun never sets on its dominions.” We had now sailed over half the circumference of the globe, and after leaving Cape Town every port we entered was a colony of Great Britain. This Island of Hong Kong was ceded to Great Britain by the treaty of Canton in 1841 or 1842, and it was indeed a great acquisition, as it gave to England a foothold on the very coast of China, possessing a fine harbor, and where she has quartered a fine garrison. The climate is very healthy for this latitude, owing to its being a very rocky and barren soil, entirely surrounded by salt water. The body of the water of the Canton River (of which it forms the eastern entrance) passes to the westward along the shores of Macao. This port of Hong Kong was a gay and pleasant place to visit. There many English families belonging to the garrison resided; also some of the families of American merchants located there. These were all very hospitable and entertained us handsomely. My first acquaintance with “pigeon English” was a note of invitation from one of the American ladies to “tiffin,” which translated into our language means a sumptuous luncheon. We also attended here a grand military ball given by the officers of the garrison. After the festivities of the evening were over and the dancing thoroughly enjoyed the departing guests were served with a cup of hot beef tea. This was a novelty to us, but the most refreshing beverage after the weariness consequent upon the evening's enjoyment that I ever drank, and I found one did not have to be an invalid to appreciate it.

From Hong Kong we crossed over to Macao. This peninsula was donated to the Portuguese in the sixteenth century for assistance given by that nation to the Chinese against pirates, who infested the seas in that section, and do more or less to the present day. The harbor is an open roadstead for large shipping. The trading, however, was not very much here, for the advantages offered by Hong Kong were greater. The city of Macao is one of the oldest foreign settlements in China, and presents some unique specimens of architecture in residences and public buildings, while the grounds show taste and culture. There is just out of the limits of the city a beautiful grotto where the Poet Camöens is said to have written his “Lusiad,” and the spot is beautiful enough to have inspired a poet's pen. After remaining a week or more in this harbor we went up the Canton River as high as Blenheim Reach, the highest point of anchorage that our ship's draught of water would admit of our going. We passed by the Canton forts, more remarkable for their extent than the strength of their fortifications. During the war between England and China the heaviest of the English ships anchored in Blenheim Reach to operate against the city of Canton, which is about eight miles from this place. On the shores of Blenheim Reach is built up a village of some extent, the houses of which are constructed entirely of bamboo canes. The bamboo grows here in great abundance and to great size. We visited the city of Canton in boats, but were always armed, on account of the river pirates, bold and daring, and often dangerous. Although it is an old and hackneyed story about China, it is nevertheless a true and interesting one in regard to their duck boats. The peculiar fittings or appliances for lowering down the platforms for the ducks to descend into the water for feeding purposes, at which they perform many pranks as they hasten to the shore along the shoal for food. Thus they are kept moving along the river to the most desirable feeding grounds, constantly changing from day to day. These creatures of the feathered tribe are so trained as to know the whistle of their own boat, upon the sound of which they ascend as rapidly as they descended, but with a different motive power influencing them, for the last one that crosses the bridge or platform gets a sound thrashing! The duck is indeed a feature of China. Hatched and bred in great quantities on these boats, having free feeding grounds, they are a great source of revenue to their owners, and are a prominent feature in all the eating shops (which are numerous), baked and hung up to be served out as the purchaser desires.

As we approached the great city of Canton both sides of the river were lined with boats on which large families of people are reared and have been for generations back, who never go on shore except for special purposes, such as marketing, attending worship in their temples, or burying their dead. These boats are of small dimensions and are kept scrupulously clean, and necessarily the scrubbing day comes round very often, when the children are thrown overboard and given a buoy to float upon until the scrubbing is over and the home in order again.

The tea boats present a striking appearance in their gay coloring and gaudy decorations. These boats are anchored off in the center of the stream or at convenient points along the river. To these boats the populace resort in great numbers for quaffing their national beverage, as their more civilized contemporaries would frequent saloons or club-rooms. We landed in that part of the city where are built the residences of European merchants, many of them very comfortable. The men who occupy them supply the world with tea. The best-paid men in this trade are the tea-tasters, who select, classify, and price the teas for the various markets. As we pass these buildings and enter the Chinese part of the city the streets are narrow and paved. The merchants show their goods in the doorways of their shops or on the sidewalks to designate their occupation. The streets are filled with vendors of all conceivable wares. It was by no means rare to see puppies and cats in cages, hung at either end of a pole over the shoulder of the carrier, as unconcernedly as chickens or game would be hawked about the streets of American towns.

The fish shops of China are interesting from the great variety they display. They do not sell oysters fresh (or did not on that day). They kiln-dried them on scaffolds and then packed them away in the dried state for future use, thereby depriving the bivalve and the consumer of its most tempting properties, hence they were not appreciated by oyster-eating Americans.

WE VISITED with a great deal of interest and pleasure the crockery stores, with a view to purchasing some of the beautiful wares. The finest china is, of course, handpainted, no two pieces alike, having landscapes of their own country, exclusively, in the center (with strange want of perspective), with very handsome borders of birds, insects, butterflies and flowers. It is very rich and showy, their coloring being always intense, and a table set with china of this description is very striking and beautiful. In making a selection there are no regular sets for breakfast, dinner, and tea, but you are at liberty to select what pleases your own fancy, thus making up your own sets. The breakfast set of which I made choice was the very old-fashioned historic willow china in blue, to which is attached a very romantic legend. The legend runs: “A Chinese princess escapes from a window which overhangs the water on whose shores the willows grow and thrive, throwing their graceful shadows on the stream on whose placid waters she floats away from her home with a plebeian lover, with woman's trust and faith, and ‘the love that laughs at locksmiths.’ ” The plates and dishes are double and deep, with a little orifice for pouring in hot water to keep the breakfast delightfully hot while eating it.

I took the opportunity of purchasing a very handsome Chinese punch bowl for my esteemed friend Judge Berrien, which I had the pleasure of sending him on my return home, and received from him a very beautiful letter of thanks and appreciation. I also purchased a very full and handsome set of china—dinner and tea—which is still in use in my family, having been buried during the war for safe keeping! When making the selection of the blue breakfast china the salesman or merchant surprised me by putting one of the dishes on the floor and jumping with his wooden clogs upon it to prove its strength, presenting a laughable appearance to us who stood by. They proved as strong as he asserted, and half a dozen are still in existence after many years' service. Having made our purchases we sought the hotel in search of a dinner, which was served with a variety of dishes, very Chinese in appearance, being mostly hashes, but very palatable. One in particular had such very small bones that we accused the waiter with serving us up a “rat stew.” At this he was very indignant, and angrily protested, “Chinaman no eat rat; none 'cept poor Chinaman, low-down Chinaman.” The cat and puppy dishes, however, he did not deny; said they “were good, but no serve Mellican man 'cept he want 'em!”

Had I been served with a “rat stew” it would have been a “righteous retribution” on me for one of the frolics of my early boyhood! Our old carriage driver, “Daddy Jim,” my father's body servant, who used to drive him in his gig as he went the rounds of the courts on his circuit, was also a very fancy cook, and loved his own dishes. He was very devoted to his young master and would sometimes save choice morsels for me from his supper the night before. When I went hunting I would bring him in rabbit or squirrel, as my game might chance to be; but one day, in a spirit of mischief and fun, I played a dreadful trick on him. The rats that infested the rice barn and fed on the rice were very large and fat. I shot two or three of them and prepared them invitingly for the pot or saucepan, curtailing their suspicious tails, and they looked for all the world like squirrels. I presented them to “Daddy Jim” for his supper; he was delighted, said “he would cook them nice, and save one for my breakfast.” The next morning the old man smacked his lips and told me how good and juicy they were, and he would bring mine to me. I laughed and said, “Daddy Jim, I fooled you; they were barn rats.” Such a look of disgust and nausea came over his face, and he shamed me so that I had to run out of his way, but he soon forgave me, with his big and loving heart, and to the day of his death was fond and faithful. Peace to his memory!

The American merchants in China invited us to their houses, and we were pleased at the opportunity offered us of witnessing the mode of classifying the teas by the tea-tasters. They would place a sample of each kind of tea in cups, pour on the boiling water, cover closely, and allow it to draw for a few minutes only, when they would be able to distinguish by their experienced taste the exact quality of the tea and determine the markets to which they should go. My second visit to the city was devoted to the purchase of silks and dress goods, including beautiful Canton crape shawls, rich in color and exquisite in embroidery. There were also in this market lovely dress goods made of the fibre of the pineapple, called “penia cloth.” Of this fine fabric handkerchiefs and various things were made, and the embroidery on them was marvelous for its intricate needlework. Our collections, of course, were only meant for gifts upon our return home as mementoes to our families and friends of our sojourn in these distant lands. I must not forget to mention their hand-carved ivory chessmen and sets of backgammon and the unsurpassed lacquer ware in all designs. Upon this lacquer are represented usually their national emblems, the stork and the turtle.

While at anchor in the Blenheim Reach we were visited by an American colporteur, an intelligent man, who appeared earnest in his work of disseminating the Gospel and teachings of religion in the form of tracts translated into their language. Through his representation of the beauty of the country and small villages my friend, Dr. Charles F. Fahs, assistant surgeon of the ship, and myself were induced to accompany him on one of his trips.