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.

THE following day the Chinese Government sent an officer on board bearing an important looking document for the commodore. Said document informed him that “if any more of his outside barbarians attempted to enter the city they would have their heads chopped off.” This brought to mind with a shuddering sense of horror the butchered heads in cages we had seen in the executioner's yard through which we had been carried. The commodore, however, did not notice this document. With the little steamer in front of us we now got under way and started up the river. We observed our soundings very carefully, as we were now going up the river further into the interior than any foreign vessel had ever gone. The country presented a vast acreage in cultivation, showing no waste or unused land. Great activity seemed to prevail both on shore and river. Large boats transporting produce and goods were numerous, and the fertile valley of the Yangtse Kiang, as far as the eye could reach, verified the statement of its being the “Granary of China.”

We found a bold river, too, carrying a sufficient depth of water to navigate our steam frigate with safety. We took the precaution of anchoring at night, and steaming cautiously in the wake of the little steamer ahead of us, taking soundings as we went. We arrived at quite an ancient city, whose name I have forgotten, but whose old pagoda had been taken quiet possession of by bats innumerable. We came to anchor and were soon surrounded by boats of all kinds filled with produce, and a gaping, wonder-struck people. In one of the large boats we noticed some donkeys. Whether they were meant to be traded to us we never learned, so concluded the visit was one of curiosity instead of trade, they being drawn towards us as foreigners; certainly they had never seen a foreign ship or a foreign people before. We gathered from these venders of curios many interesting specimens. The commodore having no special object in continuing his cruise up the river, we weighed anchor and retraced our way, and passing by the Capital, where we had been so rudely rebuffed, we proceeded to our old anchorage at Shanghai. We spent here a week or more, greeted our dear friends at the mission, and then sailed, with Mr. McLane still on board, for Hong Kong. At this point Mr. McLane landed, and the commodore, after a few days of rest, sailed for Manila, the Capital of Luzon, one of the Philippine Islands. On this passage Commodore Aulick was taken desperately ill. The surgeons of the ship pronounced his case a hopeless one. Not so with the commodore himself, however. He had the greatest horror of being buried at sea, or on Spanish soil. On hearing the verdict of the doctors he gave orders that “should he die, his body should be put in a cask of whiskey for preservation and carried to English soil for interment,” for he said he “did not wish his last rest to be among the dagos.” His will power proved superior to his disease, and to the surprise of surgeons and all on board the ship he rallied and finally recovered.

We entered the port of Manila after a pleasant run across the China Seas, and were delighted to find ourselves out of the reach of China and the “heathen Chinee” with heads on and hearts light. The population of Manila is a race of Mestizas, a mixture of Spanish and the native Indian—the men after the order of the Spanish hidalgo and the women as beautiful as the senoritas of old Spain. The city of Manila was founded in 1571, and has remained one of the most important of the Spanish colonial cities, furnishing to the world the famous Manila cheroot and tobacco, and the Manila cordage; also the finest fabrics made from the pineapple leaf, known as pinea cloth, on which elaborate embroideries are exquisitely done; and here are found dainty articles of use and wear and ornament. The trade is immense with England and the United States.

We were very fortunate in making our visit to Manila in carnival time. At this season the whole island is given over to dancing, cockfighting, gaiety and dissipation. Upon visiting the shore we were handsomely entertained by the officers of the Spanish garrison. My friend Bennett and I joined a lieutenant of the garrison in a snipe hunt on the rice fields, and brought in plenty of game. We also had delightful drives in the country. We were struck with the love of the natives for cockfighting. Every countryman we met held under his arm a cock ready for the pit. After our drive we were carried to these pits to witness the gambling excitement over these fights, almost equalling the bullfights of old Spain.

From these cruel sports we went visiting. The inhabitants kept open houses, with music and dancing at the homes of all the most important families in the city. Of course the dancing was a very delightful social pastime to us, the young officers of the ship. To return this attention and hospitality we gave a dance on board the ship. We moved the battery from the quarter deck and decorated the deck with flags and bunting, making chandeliers of bayonets, and covering the deck with an awning we had a complete and beautiful ball-room. Here we entertained the élite of the city of Manila, having the music of our fine band, and a feast worthy of the occasion. It was an evening of great enjoyment to them and to us. The Spanish ladies wore magnificent slippers, many of them set with stones of great value, which glistened brilliantly on their tiny feet. These slippers without heels were kept on the feet by the little toe protruding outside, and in the round dances or the waltz in the back step they would sometimes lose a slipper, to their great annoyance; but of course it was a great amusement to their partner in the dance to see them gracefully return, catch the slipper on the foot, and continue the waltz as if no such accident had occurred. This ball was the closing scene of our visit. Our guests departed after midnight, and the next morning, after arranging our decks in man-of-war-style, we set sail for the coast of China.

We arrived at our old anchorage in the harbor of Hong Kong, and the commodore's health being sufficiently restored, he began making preparation for his return to the United States. Commodore Matthew C. Perry, we learned, was on his way out to take command of the Chinese Squadron. His flagship was the Mississippi, under the command of Captain Sidney Smith Lee (brother of our gallant General Robert E. Lee). The Mississippi, with several other ships, made a squadron of eight vessels, including those already out there. Commodore Aulick returned by way of Europe. Commodore Perry came out in the same way to join the squadron in Hong Kong, to make there the necessary preparation to visit Japan as Minister Extraordinary.

These ships coming out to join his squadron brought out a miniature locomotive and train of cars, with accompanying rails and all the attachments for running them in a circle of about a mile in circumference, to show those people who were shut up in their own country what was going on in the outside world. They also brought out the telegraph, with batteries and the operators, ready to put it up as soon as permission was obtained to do so. All these wonders to show to a people who for centuries had excluded the foreigner from their shores, also thereby excluding the marvels and progress of the age. In due course of time Commodore Perry arrived, and the various ships of his command. All was now active preparation for the expedition to Japan. Here we took on board (he having obtained permission to join us in the capacity of master's mate) the author and poet who has since made his name famous, Mr. Bayard Taylor.

The commodore had secured as interpreter a German, who was quite a fine linguist; speaking English fluently, he did good service as a translator. Some of the Japanese officials, being conversant with German, would communicate with him in that language, and he would translate it into English. After completing all arrangements we sailed in squadron for the Lew Chew group of islands, one of the dependencies of Japan. These islands lie south of the Japan group, and are situated off the coast of China. They are inhabited by a race of people mild in their disposition and possessing none of the arts of war in their rude state. These people live after the order of the old patriarchs, and are among the most pleasant people it has ever been my fortune to be thrown among. They are industrious and cleanly in their habits and provide abundantly for their own subsistence.

We were able to procure from them poultry, pigs and vegetables at very moderate prices. The Capital of the great Lew Chew is situated a few miles in the interior, and a body of our troops, marines and sailors marched up to the city, merely to impress them with our strength and power. Our forces were pleasantly received, and reported their public roads in perfect order and their bridges, of arched masonry, artistic and beautiful. Their houses were light structures one story high, covered with tiling, scrupulously clean, with matting covering the floors, and all native visitors were expected to remove their sandals before entering the house, and leave them at the door; this and many of their customs struck us very agreeably. While lying in this port we had the misfortune to lose one of our young engineers. It was a very sad death and cast a gloom over the entire ship. Our poet, Bayard Taylor, commemorated the event by some beautiful lines, which I wish I could remember. They were much admired by us all. Among these quiet, peaceful people he was laid to rest to await the resurrection morning. A stranger in a foreign land, among a strange and unknown people, it touched us all as a sad and lonely fate!

ON THIS beautiful island, the great Lew Chew, where we had been luxuriating for ten days, there was little or nothing to collect in the way of curios or mementos. The people were strictly rural, and plain and simple in their tastes. We were ordered to weigh anchor, and set sail for Japan. In one of my old letters home at that time I find myself airing the sentiments of the day in regard to the contemplated expedition to Japan, and will here insert it:

We first anchored in the beautiful and land-locked harbor of Simodi, which has since been totally destroyed by an earthquake. We here received many of the high officials of Japan. We entertained them with great hospitality and distinction, to impress them favorably with our presence as visitors in Japan. We got permission to land our field pieces and also our marine forces and sailors. They were allowed to drill in their temple grounds and made a very handsome display, and were viewed with great interest by the natives. These people impressed us with their great superiority to the Chinese. They were in every way more congenial in manner and more generous in disposition. The dressing of the hair was the reverse of the Chinese. Instead of wearing the queue, they shaved the crown of the head and brought up the hair to the top to cover it, tying it in a little knot on top. The women paid great attention to the dressing of their hair and succeeded admirably in its adornment.

Before proceeding further in narrations of our visit to Japan I will state what I had forgotten to do before this. We had with us on board ship half a dozen Japanese sailors. They had been picked up floating on a wreck of one of their unseaworthy coasting vessels in the Pacific Ocean and carried to the United States by an American whaleship. The Government took charge of them and placed them on board one of the ships of Commodore Perry's Expedition, to be returned to their own country. This act of the Government was propitiatory, but I very much doubt if it was received in the spirit in which it was meant, for one of their laws for cutting off communication with the outside world, and one strictly enforced, was that any Japanese who left his country under any circumstances was not allowed to return under punishment of death. These poor fellows were no doubt exempted from this law and had their lives saved by being protégés of the United States Government. This law of forty years or more ago must long ago have become obsolete. There was no demonstration made over their return, and we never heard further of their welfare. While on board they gave us a practical demonstration of applying the “moxa.” A stalwart Japanese was suffering great pain. He stripped himself to the waist and with face downward on the deck one of his companions applied the “moxa” in little cones and set fire to it at the top, on either side of the spine a few inches apart. It gradually burned out, and either was not very painful or the Japanese had wonderful powers of endurance, as he did not seem to move a muscle. After the operation he got up, apparently much relieved, and quite himself again.

Commodore Perry had taken out with him one of the finest bands of music that ever sailed with a squadron, in fact a perfect band. He gave orders that they should play national airs and martial music to impress the Japanese with that style of melody. They were also taken around the decks and shown the large guns. They looked as little surprised as though they were perfectly familiar with their construction and working of the guns. They were then taken to our engine room, thinking that the beautiful machinery of our magnificent engines would elicit some expression of admiration. They looked at all we had to display with interest, but showed no astonishment at anything. In other words, they showed every trait of gentility and culture and impressed us with admiration at their stoicism. After remaining a week or more in the harbor of Simodi the squadron got under way and we steamed around the Bay of Jeddo. There being no accurate charts of this bay known to the civilized world at that time, we had to keep a boat (one of our cutters) ahead of us, taking soundings as we steamed along, for safe guidance. Finding plenty of water, we made good progress until our boat was discovered, when quite a fleet of native boats loaded with soldiers bearing lances and other weapons were seen to pull immediately across the bow of our boat to stop our progress. The officer in command ordered the men to take up their muskets to defend themselves. The Japanese presented their pikes, but the official or dignitary in command of their fleet of boats waved his fan as a signal for us to come no nearer, and requested an interview to make explanation. He stated that he was sent by his government to stop our further progress up the bay. He begged that this request be made known to our commanding officer, for while we had it in our power to proceed, it would result in his being compelled to commit the “hari-kari,” which meant to take his own life by falling on his sword and disemboweling himself! This was a law which had to go into effect for not executing the orders of a superior officer. A cruel law, indeed, of so peaceful and refined a people! Our officer in command at once granted his request. He returned on board ship and reported the same to the commodore. We came to anchor with the squadron and the commodore sent a communication to the Mikado, the official head of the Empire, informing him that he was empowered as Minister Extraordinary to treat with his government, and desired that a day be fixed for presenting his credentials. The officers were much relieved at not having to pass through the painful ordeal of sacrificing themselves, and left with these dispatches. At this anchorage we were daily visited by officials from the shore. We received them cordially, and they were usually entertained by Captain Buchanan and Captain Lee, who in true American style would dispense to them during their visit a whiskey toddy. The Japanese would enjoy what they called “Mellican wine,” and not knowing its effects would sometimes take more than they could carry comfortably and become very jolly, and a jolly Jap is something worth seeing! The commodore, while he would encourage these visits from the high officials, would never allow himself to be seen. He would have them invited into his cabin, but retire into his stateroom, and there unseen greatly enjoy the interviews between his officers and the Japanese. The conversations were interpreted through the German Secretary. The days now passed with very little satisfaction to the commodore, who was waiting (not very patiently) for the Mikado to appoint a day for his reception. Not receiving such notice as he thought in due time, he sent a communication to inform the authorities “if the time was not appointed within ten days he would land his forces and present his credentials in person at the city of Jeddo.” This threat seemed to arouse the tardy Mikado, for he saw our commodore “meant business.” The Mikado forthwith ordered the erection of a house in a pleasant location higher up the bay, and within the limited ten days the commodore was notified that an officer of equal rank with himself would receive him at this point. The next day the squadron got under way and steamed up to this anchorage, where we saw the new building. Coming to anchor (as our squadron did) in line of battle, presenting our starboard broadside to the shore, with springs on our cables to cover the landing of our forces, and in case of treachery that our batteries might play upon the enemy, we presented a formidable array. All boats were now lowered and preparation made for landing the forces, the commodore and his staff (of which I had the honor of being a member) bringing up the rear. The boats pulled up in column to the shore. As the forces were landed the boats would drop out to the right and left of the landing. The marines forming on the right and the blue jackets on the left, presented an unbroken line from the shore to the building, keeping the Japanese out of that space. The commodore then landed, presenting a fine appearance, being a large and fine-looking man, in new full-dress uniform, accompanied by his staff. Following this a striking feature in this body were three stalwart negroes, neatly dressed in their muster suits, armed cap-a-pie, and carrying in rosewood boxes the credentials of the Minister Extraordinary. This was an imposing spectacle, and the American flag waved for the first time on the soil of Japan in the history of that nation. Each company carried a handsome new flag of the American Union. Thousands of Japanese witnessed this spectacle and observed the strictest order and decorum, while a few of the highest in rank were permitted to approach and witness the ceremonies. The Japanese flags decorated the building and many were carried by the standard-bearers of these officials. As the commodore and his staff drew near to the entrance of the building he was met by the officer of the Japanese Government and his suite, making the salaams of their country, after which we were conducted into the building; the Japanese were seated on one side and the Americans on the other. The interpreter (Japanese) took his position between the two, down on his knees, not daring to look at either party, but merely repeating the communications as an automaton or a machine might have done. Our grand old commodore, with his imposing presence and gigantic stature, delivered with great dignity and solemnity the credentials empowering him to treat with the Japanese nation, doing honor to his country by his impressive bearing, both martial and soldierly. After this formality was gone through with some attempt at pleasant intercourse was passed between the two parties, and this great occasion, which proved the wedge that opened Japan to the civilized world, was brought to a close. The commodore and his staff withdrew from the reception and returned on board ship in the same order with which we had landed. Nothing occurred to mar the very imposing ceremonies in behalf of our country. The fleet got under way and dropped down the bay to our former anchorage, which was better suited for operating our railroad and the telegraph wires brought out by the commodore to display to these secluded people the vast improvements of the age.

In a few days we had in operation the little locomotive and miniature cars. For these we had laid the track in a circle, and it was about a mile in circumference. The Japanese displayed great interest in this steam locomotion on dry land. Some of the more daring ventured to ride on the outside, the cars being too small to admit of their riding inside. What seemed to surprise them more even than this was sending messages by telegraph and receiving answers in reply. They stationed their own officers and interpreters at each end of the line, so had no reason to think we were playing upon their credulity. They greatly enjoyed the display of these inventions, and the purpose we had in view seemed fully accomplished. We felt fully rewarded by their interest and pleasure.

While at this anchorage our chaplain, a man of most inquiring turn of mind, and most persistent in carrying out a purpose, wandered off without the knowledge of the captain, some distance in the interior. The first information received of him on board ship was a communication which described him so accurately both as to person and dress as to be unmistakable and a request that he be “ordered back to the ship.” The bearer, of course, took in return an order, signed by the commanding officer, that he “return at once to the ship.” Our poor chaplain came on board quite chagrined, It really was quite contrary to orders for our officers or men to go into the interior (but chaplains have privileges). All officers and men were always kindly treated by this courteous, gentle-mannered people. The commodore, having accomplished the object of his visit, departed with a part of his squadron for Hong Kong. Upon our arrival there we met Captain Ringgold with his surveying and exploring expedition to the North Pacific and the China Seas, of which coast very little was then known, no accurate surveys having been made up to that time. Captain Ringgold's health having failed during this arduous work, Commodore Perry relieved him of his command and sent him home as an invalid. Captain John Rodgers succeeded him to the command. The expedition consisted of five vessels—the Sloop of War Vincennes, Steamer John Hancock, Brig Porpoise, Schooner J. Fennimore Cooper, and Store Ship John P. Kenedy. After reorganizing this surveying expedition, Commodore Perry began his own preparation for returning home overland, making such transfers of officers as were necessary. His flagship, the Mississippi, he ordered to proceed to Japan, and at the same time the surveying and exploring expedition to continue on its survey in that direction. Here I met a young Georgian, Burleigh Baber, a passed midshipman on the Brig Porpoise. As he could not hope to reach Georgia as soon as I, at his request I took from him his likeness and letters to bring home to his mother and sisters. His mother was the widow of one of Georgia's most distinguished physicians. I little dreamed in so doing I would bear her the last tidings she would ever have of her son. We sailed out of Hong Kong harbor together, he in the Porpoise and I in the Mississippi. As we passed out of the Lymoon passage we encountered a heavy gale of wind. The Mississippi had her steampower headed to the northward and eastward (on her way to Japan), from which the heaviest of the gale came, while the Porpoise parted from us standing to the southward and eastward in the direction of the island of Formosa. This was the last ever seen of the Porpoise. Many were the hopes that lingered long with the friends and families of those on the ill-fated brig. There seemed a bare possibility that some of her crew might have been picked up by the savages in the Pacific islands. But nothing has ever been heard, or ever will be “till the sea gives up her dead.” The news of her loss reached the United States before we did, and soon after my arrival at home I delivered in person my charge to his widowed mother, who in sadness and sorrow received them, though not at that time with all hope dead in her heart. I realized what he had been, “the only son of his mother, and she a widow!”

AMONG the transfers of officers at Hong Kong I think I have failed to mention that I was made master of the Mississippi. After riding out a heavy gale we proceeded on our course to Japan, arriving in the Bay of Jeddo in the month of February. We found there a part of our squadron and the coal ship, from which we supplied ourselves with coals for our long passage across the Pacific Ocean. We met some of our old friends among the natives, and laid in a large supply of fresh stores and provisions. The Bay of Jeddo (or, as there called, Yedo) is a most magnificent one. The precipitous coast of Sagami rises to the left, while far inland are lofty mountains covered with snow, the high peak of Fusi-Yama most conspicuous of all. Pretty little villages and towns stud the margins of the shore, forming a beautiful, restful landscape for the eye of the seaman to dwell upon. The coast of Awa, some ten or twelve miles distant, gave the lovely twilight haze that softens all it rests upon, and gave to Nature even in its wintry aspect a look of cheerful repose. The Japanese were at that time (I do not know what intercourse with the outside world may have done for them) a contented, social people, very dignified in demeanor, never seemed to act impulsively, but always with mildness and decorum. The opening of the spring there seems to inspire the latent poetry of their nature, and it is not unusual, as our interpreters informed us, to hear them greet each other in flowery language, such as this, to express their kindly New Year's greeting: “May your felicity be as broad as the eastern sea and your age as enduring as the southern hills;” “May joys clamber over your blest abode and a thousand lucks pass through your gate.” But we must set sail ere long, and after taking leave of our friends and brother officers begin our long and circuitous voyage, “homeward bound.”

At the call of the boatswain, “All hands up anchor for home,” only the mariner can understand and appreciate the thrill of joy after an absence of years among a strange and foreign people. We were now steering eastward, as we had been since leaving our native shores. Our cruise was to “circumnavigate the globe.” All was bright and beautiful as we bade adieu to Japan, the last thing in sight being its snow-capped mountain, which had also been the first point to welcome us as we approached its unknown shores. We had sailed with pleasant weather attending us till the seventh day out, when the skies became overcast and the clouds scudding with a falling barometer gave every indication of an approaching storm. Fortunately for us, our good ship, the Mississippi, was lightened by the consumption of seven days' coal when we encountered a most terrific typhoon. This region of the world is subject to such storms, which are circular and progressive. The stanch ship labored heavily, and the seas swept over our decks, tearing away from the davits our metallic lifeboat, which we could see floating away from us like a cork in our wake as far as the eye could reach. Another sea struck us on our bow, tearing away our pivot gun and completely upsetting it. By the prompt action of our daring seamen it was secured and lashed in time to save it from being lost overboard. This state of affairs presented a very alarming sight to one not accustomed to the fury of the winds and waves, but our grand old ship rode out the storm magnificently. Her engines worked so perfectly that there really was no cause for anxiety or alarm, with our hatches battened down to keep the water from going below, and life lines stretched across the decks to which our men could hold and keep themselves from being swept overboard. We rode out the storm in safety with no loss of life. The following day the storm had abated and we pursued our way to the Sandwich Islands and the harbor of Hawaii. The changes that had taken place since my last visit to these islands in the Frigate Savannah, almost ten years before, were really marvelous. Now in the place of a native village had grown up a town, quite American in aspect, with American inhabitants predominating largely. One could imagine himself in a “down East” town. The genus homo of the true “Brother Jonathan” is unmistakable and pronounced wherever he is met with in the world, and the Yankee whaler can never be imitated by other nations without danger of counterfeit, he being entirely original. We remained in port long enough to recuperate and enjoy the delightful fruits and vegetables of this tropical climate. We next set sail for the harbor of San Francisco.

On arriving here there awaited me still greater surprise in the more wonderful changes of this magical city and its surroundings. Ten years had elapsed since my service here in the Mexican War. Then there were but a few wooden structures, where now stood magnificent edifices, fine wharves, beautiful and commodious dwellings with elaborately decorated grounds surrounding them, and gardens filled with luxuriant shrubbery and rare flowers—in fact, a city of magical and wonderful growth. We met here many friends and acquaintances of both naval and civil life. Captain Farragut was here, with no dream of the future honors that awaited him as a successful officer on the winning side in the war between the States a few years later. Richard Cuyler, too, was in “Frisco.” They were both much interested in land speculations in that new and growing country. We remained in San Francisco two or three weeks, enjoying great hospitality and pleasant intercourse with congenial friends, and next steamed out of the “Golden Gate” for Valparaiso on our homeward journey. This was quite a long stretch at sea , passing through the temperate and tropic zones without a storm of any kind to cause us anxiety. Arriving at Valparaiso we refreshed our crew with the luxuries of port before starting on the boisterous voyage around Cape Horn. We spent a few days only in Valparaiso, when getting under way we sailed in a southerly direction for Cape Horn. As we approached the Cape Captain Lee determined to go through the Straits of Magellan. The weather was thick and raining violently, so that we were kept anxiously looking for a headland which marks the entrance to the Strait. To our great relief we sighted this desired object, and steered boldly for the shore. Upon entering this rugged passage we suddenly found calm waters, and to the great relief of our entire ship's company we came to anchor that night in a quiet nook and enjoyed for the first time since leaving Valparaiso comfort, rest and sleep.

The next morning at daylight we were under way, steaming through this ice-bound passage with a heavy snowstorm falling. In the midst of the storm we sighted a little canoe pulling off to us. In the canoe was a Patagonian Indian with his squaw, who had her baby lashed to her back without a covering on its head, apparently regardless of the weather. They begged us for something to eat. We loaded them down with “hard tack” and fat meat, which was a fortune to them, and they took leave of us with grateful hearts. We steamed through the Straits the entire day, passing in sight of the penal colony of Chile, and that night anchored again at the eastern entrance of the Straits. The land here presented a flat and low appearance, whereas the western entrance was mountainous and rugged. The following morning we steamed into the broad Atlantic, rejoicing that we were again on the ocean that washed our own shores, and shaped our course northward for the harbor of Rio Janeiro. As we cleared this ice-bound region and approached the tropics we rejoiced in the sunshine, thoroughly airing and ventilating our bedding, wearing apparel, etc. After a pleasant run of about two weeks we entered the famed and beautiful harbor of Rio. Familiar scenes greeted us on every side, and we were delighted to find the city healthy and free from the fever scourge, so common a visitant there. Of course we here enjoyed all the fruits and vegetables of this generous soil and climate, and after recuperating we again weighed anchor, for the last time, on our homeward-bound voyage. In the ordinary voyage from Rio to New York, taking the southeast trade winds, we ran to the tropics, and after passing the equator through calms and rain squalls, we entered the region of the brisk northeast trade winds and made a splendid run, reaching the port of New York in April, 1855.

Laying up our good ship alongside the Brooklyn Navy Yard, we bade farewell to friends with whom we had passed through many scenes of pleasure and encountered many trials and dangers, never to be forgotten, in our association for years in foreign lands. Commodore Perry's voluminous and very interesting books upon the Japanese Expedition do not seem to have the historical value they should and do possess, by being found in all public libraries. I regret to say my copy was lost among many other valuables in the fortunes of war. Not only were the note books and journal of the gifted Bayard Taylor, author and poet, made use of by the commodore, but my beloved friend Dr. Charles Frederick Fahs, of the Navy, was a valuable contributor to the same. Being a very scientific man and an enthusiastic botanist, the flora and fauna of those distant lands gave him great delight, and his willing mind was one ever searching for hidden treasure in the wells of knowledge; yet so childlike was his faith (like the great Maury's) that it was beautiful to see how his worshiping soul could look adoringly through Nature up to Nature's God. To the end of his useful and noble life he was never beguiled by the follies of science, but “retained God in his knowledge,” and in that knowledge saw the light of revealed truth and the blessed hope of immortality!

EARLY in May, 1855, we turned our faces homeward with a three-months' leave of absence in our pockets. I found family and friends moving from rice plantations to their summer places on the salt water. At this season there is no indulgence of hunting but boating, fishing, and picnicking was the order of the day for amusement. Among my friends, living about six miles distant, was George Dent, a son of Commodore Dent. He professed to be a rice planter, but thereby was a fine mechanic spoiled (for his genius was in that direction). George had been spending his many leisure hours building a little steamer for use and pleasure on the river inlets and sound in his neighborhood, he living then at Baisden's Bluff. On the completion of the boat he invited me to attend the ceremony of launching it, which occasion was to be a merrymaking to his friends and neighbors. The launch proved quite a success, and she rode the waters gracefully. The gratification of the builder and owner was an enjoyment to his friends as well as himself. The following day Dent proposed taking me to Sapelo Island on a visit, he acting as engineer, with a negro man to assist him, I as helmsman to steer the little craft. We made excellent time, our navigation being all on salt water, and we reached the island before sunset. We anchored in Sapelo Sound, and shortly after my cousin, Randolph Spalding, came pulling out of the mouth of the creek to us in one of his fine race boats. He invited us ashore for the night. We declined, as we were “yachting,” and insisted that he should spend the night with us. He vowed that our “craft could not hold him for a longer time than a social call, as he knew Dent's boat was bound to blow up.” The next day's experience came near proving Randolph's assertion a prophecy. We decided on a trip up to the city of Darien the following day. At first all went well with our little steamer; but as we were passing from the salt water into the fresh the boiler commenced foaming to such a degree as to cause us great alarm. It threw water from every conceivable egress, covering the deck and us. This steam and vapor bath we did not relish much. While we felt courageous enough to die for duty, we did not want to sacrifice our lives simply for pleasure. I changed the course of the steamer for the nearest shore, but before reaching that point the violent ebullition began to subside, and I realized that it was only the change in the water, at which we were greatly relieved, and continued our delightful little cruise, visiting our friends on the sea islands in their summer homes.

In June of this year I made a visit to the city of Macon. On this visit I met for the first time my future wife. Beautiful city of Macon, within your suburbs I found love and happiness in the long years gone by! And now the life within me thrills when I breathe your flower-laden air, and the memories of the past sweep over me with loving benediction!

In October I made a second visit to Macon, and accompanied my relatives, the Reeses, to the village of Roswell to attend the marriage of Miss Rees to Rev. F. R. Golding, a Presbyterian divine, and the author of the “Young Marooners,” “The Woodruff Stories,” etc., books now known in every land, and translated into several tongues. Returning from this marriage I spent a few very happy days in Macon. “Leaves of absence” will draw to a close, and early in December I received orders to join the Coast Survey Schooner Arago, then lying at the Pensacola Navy Yard. Leaving home on these orders, I spent a few hours in Macon, passed through Milledgeville and attended the Governor's reception, my sister, Mrs. Charles Spalding, being there at the time with her husband, Colonel Spalding being a member of the Legislature. I joined the Arago and we proceeded to Galveston, Texas, which port we reached the middle of December, and at once entered on our work, the survey of the coast to the southward of that port. I, with the junior lieutenant, James H. Gillis, (now Commodore Gillis, of the United States Navy), was stationed with a theodolite on shore for angling on the schooner in charge of Captain De Haven and the junior officers, they running lines of soundings. This work was very exacting, being obliged to angle from sunrise to sunset, every eight minutes in the day. This kept Gillis and I quite busy, we being stationed nine miles apart. We were relieved from this hard work, though, by the frequent northers occurring at this season of the year, which would blow the little schooner out of sight for days at a time. Then would come our season of sport and enjoyment in hunting and fishing.

Upon one of these occasions Gillis rode up to the house I was occupying, it being the plantation home of ex-Governor Winston, of Alabama, and to which the family came in summer to enjoy the breezes and bathing in the Gulf. Upon the top of this house I had erected a comfortable observatory, from which I could see for miles across the prairie in the rear. Having noticed this morning a fine buck feeding on the prairie, I suggested to Gillis our trying to secure him for rations, which in the absence of the schooner were becoming short. Gillis gladly seconded this plan, and having a pointer dog for which he had paid forty dollars in Philadelphia, we expected rare sport. Gillis had tried the dog for birds, but at the first fire he made tracks for home. We thought failing to be a bird dog he might prove a deer dog. Taking our sailor man Bloomer, who waited on me, to the observatory and pointing out the deer, I instructed him to tie the dog and carry him around the deer, then setting the dog on and whooping wildly to drive the deer in our direction toward the Gulf. The sailor obeyed implicitly, and the dog performed his work like a well-trained hound, opening a loud bark at every jump of the deer and bringing him on to us in fine style. Gillis was armed with a double-barrelled shotgun, loaded with buckshot. I had a long rifle in which I put eight buckshot. Knowing that Gillis was better armed than I, and a good shot, I placed him in advance in a little clump of bushes and pointed out to him where the deer would probably run. I charged him not to fire till the deer reached a certain point, while I took my stand in his rear. Gillis had never killed a deer and I really wanted to give him the opportunity, but the noble animal came on so beautifully that I covered him with my rifle before he reached the point at which I had directed Gillis to fire, and to pull my trigger was irresistible. To my delight, but to Gillis's cruel disappointment, the buck tumbled over. Gillis was chagrined beyond expression, and turning to me said in a deplorable way, “Kell, how could you treat me so?” Of course, I was ashamed, and my only excuse was that “we were very short of rations,” and I had such a dead shot on him I had to shoot; but I do not think Gillis ever quite forgave me. We sent for Gillis's old horse, and throwing the deer across we took him to the house, and that day enjoyed fine venison steaks for dinner, which I hoped would somewhat soothe the hunter's ire. That was the only opportunity Gillis and I ever had to shoot a deer while in Texas, and even at this late day I would be pleased to know if Gillis ever shot a deer, for he was a most enthusiastic Nimrod, and withal an excellent shot.

Our little station, the mouth of the Brazos River, which then had only the summer home of Governor Winston to distinguish it, has at this writing grown into a city of considerable trade and importance, bearing the name of Brazos City, this change no doubt having been brought about by the Eads jetty system in deepening the entrance to this magnificent stream. Previous to this hunt I had enjoyed with Mr. Brown, a Georgian, but then a resident of Quintana, Texas, a very exciting chase with his grey-hounds, five in number. As the chase of the greyhound is exclusively by sight, the hunt is usually participated in after the burning off of the prairies for the benefit of the stock that feed upon these prairies. Being well mounted, the hounds followed us apparently conscious of the sport that awaited them, and gladly anticipating it. One of the dogs, named “Queen,” a graceful, handsome creature, was the favorite of her master, and she seemed to understand his every movement. After a few miles' ride we sighted a noble buck and approached him from the leeward, so as to avoid his scenting us. When within a few hundred yards of the noble animal Mr. Brown beckoned to Queen; she readily obeyed, and coming to his horse's side leaped up on the pommel of his saddle to obtain a distant view, when Mr. Brown pointing in the direction of the deer, she at once took in the object, sprang to the ground and was off like a flash; leading the pack of dogs, she gave chase in the direction of the game. The buck bounded to his feet, making playful leaps as if gamboling for his own amusement. The dogs became very much excited at his appearance and commenced their earnest work of the chase, when their near approach put the buck to his best speed, and off they flew across the prairie. We put spurs to our horses and at first attempted to keep up with them. We soon found, however, that the dogs could outrun us on a long chase, so reining in our horses to enjoy the sport, we watched with intense interest their race until a slight elevation carried them out of sight. The last we saw of the deer the dogs were almost up with him, and we quietly waited to see what the result would be. In about an hour they came back to us, showing evidence of having caught the deer, their jaws reeking with blood. We failed to secure the game, but enjoyed the sport. This was the first time I ever witnessed the sport of “coursing with greyhounds.” Their speed was something remarkable. The fishing there was also very successful and abundant. We could at any time catch quantities of red fish or snappers, which added to our larder and comfort as well as our sport. Cedar Lake, near which we were stationed, was only a little distance from the village of Quintana, and was in consequence quite a resort for picnics and pleasure parties, and I was often subject to surprises by calls from ladies and gentlemen, horseback riding being a great diversion in those days, and they always insisted on my joining them in their pleasant pastime when not strictly “on duty.” Taking it all in all our situation, however, was often lonely and monotonous, the schooner sometimes drifting from us and leaving Gillis and I miles apart, with only a sailor man to wait upon us. After I left my eight-by-ten shanty and moved some thirty miles or more and took up quarters in Governor Winston's unoccupied house I used sometimes to have company. Governor Winston and his brother came to see after the planting of a summer garden and spent a couple of weeks with me. They were very pleasant gentlemen and I did enjoy their company. About this time, or a little later, I had quite a sick turn with chills and fever, and by the doctor's advice went on board the schooner that he might look after my health. I went in the schooner to the city of Galveston, where she was going for supplies. I soon recovered. While in Galveston I made the acquaintance of the Menard family. Mrs. Menard, formerly of the city of Macon (like myself, a Georgian), was a leader in society here and had a charming young daughter, for whose pleasure a large masquerade ball was given, which Dr. Martin (of the ship) and I attended. Not being in time to procure fancy costumes, we had that of monks prepared, and being exactly alike in dress and very similar in size, we had a merry time in confusing our partners in the dance by occasional exchange. I think there are scenes that stand out in relief, as it were, in one's memory, and this evening of merriment I have often looked back upon with pleasure.

Dr. Martin was quite a naturalist in his tastes. He took great interest in collecting insects, birds, reptiles., etc., and he also interested his messmates in this subject and we were pleased to contribute to his collection, especially we who had a good opportunity on shore. One day I caught a rare snake of very brilliant coloring, and knowing what a treasure he would be to the doctor, I pinioned him to the ground till I could go to the house and get a wide-mouthed pickle jar in which to imprison him. When I returned I dexterously induced his snakeship to enter the bottle, where he coiled himself, whereupon I placed the cork very securely, as I thought, leaving a small airhole through which he could breathe. I then placed him in all confidence on my table, quite an ornament in the eyes of a naturalist. The next morning to my dismay the bottle was empty! I supposed, or very naturally hoped, he had made his escape through the door of my cabin, for it was not very agreeable to think he was occupying my quarters with me. I tried to banish the thought of him from my mind, yet I found myself looking for him all the while when not busily engaged otherwise. The next evening I was seated at the table writing when to my amazement and horror I heard a rustling noise in the rafters above my head and the next moment down came the snake on my paper! It took me a very short time (though I was quite nervous) to decapitate him, and that was the last time I attempted to capture a snake for the doctor's valuable collection. Not being very successful with these wily reptiles, in future I assisted the doctor in getting some living creatures less venomous but even more curious. I think our next capture was a couple or more of the horned frogs of Texas.

The constant observations being very injurious to sight, and the advanced summer season, made it necessary for us to abandon our survey. My eyes were so affected that they had to be bandaged to avoid the light. Captain De Haven suffered extremely in the same way. On the first day of June we sailed for Philadelphia. After a smooth and delightful voyage we arrived at the Navy Yard and hauled our little schooner alongside the dock. Captain De Haven went to his home in the city. Mr. Gillis's young and charming wife was awaiting him at the hotel, where he joined her. Dr. Martin and Midshipman Livingstone left for their homes, and I remained in the city to bring up the survey with the captain. This work occupied us for three months.

In Philadelphia I met my cousin, James McQueen McIntosh, stationed at the rendezvous there, preparatory to service in the distant West, he being an officer in the United States Army and a graduate of West Point several years previous to this time. His father, Col. James Simmons McIntosh, was a gallant and distinguished officer in the Army and lost his life for his country in the Mexican War. James was very enthusiastic in the profession he had chosen, and loved it by right of inheritance, as it were, and was “every inch a soldier.” We had many happy hours together and many delightful drives and rambles in the beautiful Wissahickon Valley and other surroundings of the city of “Brotherly Love,” our own hearts drawn to each other by ties of blood and clanship in the distance of the past. James afterward married a Virginia lady, and at the breaking out of the war between the States resigned from the United States Army and tendered his services to the Confederacy. He lost his noble life at the battle of Pea Ridge, having risen to the rank of brigadier-general, and was second in command to General McCullough. They were killed within a few minutes of each other, and surely no more heroic blood was shed as a libation to the sacred “lost cause” her sons so dearly cherish! This was one of the many sad incidents in the late Civil War in which brother fought against brother, for James's brother, John Baillie McIntosh, was a gallant soldier in the Federal service and lost a leg in the battle of Opequan, Virginia. For his bravery he was promoted to the rank of Major-General, and lived for many years after the war ended to enjoy the honors and distinctions conferred by the winning side of his grateful country.

IN October, 1856, I procured a leave of absence and came to Macon, Georgia, to be married to Miss Julia Blanche Munroe, which happy event took place on the fifteenth day of the month, in Christ's Church, Macon, my relative, Rev. Henry K. Rees, officiating. Having been entitled by previous long-continued sea service to a generous leave of absence, we entered upon a winter of great gaiety and enjoyment. After a few days of pleasure in Macon, made bright by receptions and parties, we visited my home on the seaboard and were entertained by my relatives and friends in the hospitable manner known to that period and section. Elegant dinner parties, dances in the evenings, a regatta given in our honor by Hon. Thomas Forman, of Broughton Island, and a ten days' entertainment of seventy guests at the home of Randolph Spalding on Sapelo Island. Such an entertainment savored of baronial times. The spacious rooms in the grand old Tabby house were occupied by the ladies, while the gentlemen were quartered in tents under the grand old live oak trees which surrounded the house. A beautiful Indian summer, “autumn's carnival,” reigned supreme. Amusements of all kinds during the day—driving, riding, with walks on the beach, and deer hunting for the gentlemen who liked the chase. The evenings were given up to dancing, with a fine band of musicians from Savannah to furnish the music. The sumptuous table, supplied with all the good things of land and sea, was set at any and all hours—a perpetual feast.

The regatta to which I alluded was a typical scene of sport entered into by the rice planters of Georgia. The four boats in the race were famous for their speed, and were owned by Mr. James Hamilton Couper, Mr. Forman, Dr. Brailsford Troup, and my relative, Randolph Spalding. There was assembled on this occasion all the élite of the coast—the beautiful daughters of Hon. T. Butler King, the Misses Troup, the Misses Hazelhurst, the charming daughters of Hugh Grant, Esq.—all belles and beauties—and indeed all the families that made the seaboard society so delightful. One peculiar feature attending this boat race gave rise to a very appropriate anecdote which I related upon my first visit after the war to the North in the year 1868 or '69 to a party of gentlemen in New York, in the law office of my cousin, Hon. John E. Ward, and his partners, Mr. Whitehead and Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones was a Georgian, but Mr. Whitehead a Northerner and a leader in the Republican party. One of the gentlemen asked me “how affairs were progressing under reconstruction rule in Georgia?” I replied that “the bottom rail was on top now,” and I could illustrate it by telling them an incident of the class that were now prominent in the Legislature of the State. I then told them of the regatta that had taken place a few years before, when the negroes were in the rice fields at work when the race was going on. Upon hearing the loud cheering and hurrahing of Mr. Forman, who always became very much excited during a regatta, one negro remarked to the other, “Dar, now, Massa boat beat, Massa boat beat!” “How you know Massa boat beat?” inquired the second darkey. “Cause,” said the first, “don't you heah Massa holler?” “Yes, but don't you know Massa holler beat or no beat?” “That is the element now ahead in Georgia helping to make the laws in my native State.”

But I digress, and my thoughts have wandered from the happy time when there was no dream of war or future trouble of any kind; when we thought ourselves living under the happiest government the world had ever seen! In the spring of 1857 I received orders to proceed to Norfolk, Virginia, on board the Receiving Ship Pennsylvania, which duty was not very arduous, allowing me two days on board ship on duty and two days on shore. This being a famous naval station, I met many old friends, who welcomed me with my bride with true Virginia hospitality. My friends vied with each other in paying us many attentions. Jack Cooper and his estimable wife gave us a charming reception at his house, where the whole Navy society of Norfolk were invited to meet us. The United States Surveying Steamer Hetzel came into Norfolk having on board my old friends R. D. Minor, Dr. Fahs and Bayard Hand, of Georgia. They insisted upon giving, in honor of my bride, a party or ball on board the Hetzel. This was a very brilliant affair. The decks were cleared for dancing and decorated in true man-of-war style, being enclosed with flags of different nations and brilliantly lighted with chandeliers constructed from bayonets, etc., which was all meant to be a very impressive welcome to a sailor's bride. Here were assembled many of the old Navy families—the Whittles, the Sinclairs, the Carters, the Pegrams, the Spotswoods, and others. Norfolk was for many months a delightful abiding place for us.

In the fall of this year I received orders to the United States Store Ship Supply, making in her two trips to Brazil with stores to the South American Squadron. The Supply was commanded by Captain Gray, a very nice gentleman, but having a few peculiarities that are common to elderly bachelors, though withal a very genial, pleasant companion. Aaron K. Hughes was first lieutenant; I, second lieutenant, and James H. Gillis, my old companion of the Coast Survey, third lieutenant. Dr. Horwitz, the surgeon, was a very clever gentleman, and to him I became much attached during our intimacy on board ship. The voyage was one quite devoid of interest or incident, carrying salt beef and pork, hard tack, and other rations that make up a sailor's menu, for the Brazil Squadron. Brazil (as I think I have mentioned before) was in that day a fine country, whose emperor had at heart the advancement of his empire and the good of his people. Both Dom Pedro and his Empress Amalia were beloved sovereigns. Upon arriving at Rio we found the yellow fever rife. The squadron had gone down to the river La Platte. When we entered the port the health officer, an old physician whom most of us had met before, boarded our ship, and after saluting us, cordially remarked: “Gentlemen, you should board me, instead of my asking after the health of your ship. Yellow fever is decimating the ship's crews in this harbor, and if you remain a week in port you will not have enough men left to weigh anchor.” At the same time he pointed out a number of ships that he said “had only watchmen on board, the crews having all died, or the few that remained been removed to hospitals on shore.” This was a very depressing state of affairs. It was very perceptible, even on the face of Nature. There was a heavy cloud overhanging the city, and the absence of the brisk sea breeze enlivening the bay with the sail crafts moving back and forth was very noticeable. Our orders, however, were peremptory to proceed to Rio and land stores, and our captain did not hesitate to carry out his instructions, so we continued to our anchorage off the plague-stricken city. We were soon visited by a messenger from the consulate bringing us dispatches from the commodore saying “the squadron had left for Montevideo and to follow without delay.” This was a great relief to us, and early the next morning we took advantage of the nauseous land breeze and left for a healthier atmosphere. Although our stay was very short (one night only) in the infected port, yellow fever showed itself among our crew as soon as we reached the pure air of the broad Atlantic, which is a characteristic of this disease, developing itself more rapidly when the victim is removed to purer air. We had no fatal cases, however, and were soon in usual health.

Montevideo is the Capital of Uruguay and is situated on the north shore of the river La Platte, at the mouth of the river, which at this point is seventy miles wide. The city is built on an elevated peninsula forming an anchorage in the shape of a horseshoe opening to the westward and subject to violent storms called “pamparos,” which blow across the prairies. The first breezes show the violence of the coming storm by the cobwebs caught in the rigging, which indication warns the prudent mariner to send down all his yards and house topmast, and depend solely on his ground tackle for the safety of his ship. The experience of one of these blows during our stay made a hero of our junior lieutenant, James H. Gillis. Gillis was on shore when the storm came up, as were a number of other officers of the ship, together with boats and their crews from ships in the harbor, which could not pretend to pull against the violence of the storm to reach their vessels. At this juncture the cry of alarm spread through the city that a schooner had sunk on the sea-face of the city and the crew were clinging to the masthead for their lives, in momentary danger of being swept away, as the sea was breaking over them. The entire populace rushed to the scene of danger. Gillis in his enthusiastic ardor conceived the idea of saving them, and returning to the mole, or landing place of the boats, called out for “volunteers to go with him to rescue those drowning men!” At once a dozen or more stalwart seamen stepped to the front. From them he selected six, manned the whaleboat, and taking the steering oar in his hand shoved bravely off, facing the storm. All eyes were now riveted upon Gillis and his bold boat's crew, who were risking their lives to save their fellow-beings. To the great joy of his brother officers Gillis managed his boat beautifully, keeping her head always to the sea, and gradually pulling around the point of the peninsula till he got in position to drop down with the bows still facing the storm, till he fell to leeward of the schooner's mast, when one by one he rescued the men from their perilous position. He laid them down in the bottom of the boat, apparently more dead than alive. The stalwart seamen began their difficult task of pulling again to windward in order to round the point of the peninsula and secure their landing at the mole. When the last man was taken down the cheers of the multitude on shore were very encouraging to the life-savers, and when the boat landed Gillis was lifted upon the shoulders of some of the most prominent citizens and carried in triumph to the hotel amid the cries of “Make way for the brave American!” in Spanish. Our purser, a bluff old fellow who had recently passed through the bloody border warfare in Kansas, threw a damper on all this wild scene of enthusiasm by exclaiming, “Why, what is all this about? What has Gillis done?” but this did not detract from the daring and bravery of his action. Gillis was presented with a very handsome gold-bound album, with the names and thanks of all the prominent citizens of Montevideo, and the grateful thanks by letter of the government to which the schooner belonged. This gift I doubt not is, as it should be, an heirloom and treasure to his wife and children.

It was on this cruise that I remember witnessing for the last time a time-honored custom, then even almost obsolete. It was the visit of Neptune and his suite to a ship about crossing the equatorial line. It is ostensibly for the purpose of “christening all young sailors who are for the first time passing from one hemisphere to the other, after which initiation they are ever thereafter entitled to roam old ocean as one of Neptune's own.” On board of our vessels of war, if permission was granted by the captain, the crew would get up a very fair and creditable performance. Neptune on this occasion was personated by one of the oldest sailors, a veritable “Jack Tar” of the olden time, with a great curling wig and an immense beard of rope yarn, bearing in his hand his trident, and drawn aft upon the deck in his car of state, fitted out of a gun-carriage. He was accompanied by eight or ten of the stoutest seamen as attendants to execute his will. After saluting the officer of the deck he asked “permission to examine the crew that he might learn if there were any on board that ship to be christened.” Of course his attendants knew all who had never before crossed the line and began immediate search for the victims. They were brought up by force into the presence of “His Majesty” and a few questions of form put to them. “His Majesty” then ordered them to be first shaved, next christened. The attendant who acted as Neptune's barber then lathered the face and beard most thoroughly with tar, and with a huge wooden razor scraped the face vigorously. He was then plunged in a boat filled with salt water, and rising from this presented a most forlorn and deplorable picture, and all hands saluted him as an old tar, the son of the great Neptune, to the merry enjoyment of his brother sailors.

It is a privilege to the mariner, especially to one who is fond of astronomy, to visit the southern latitudes and view the starlit heavens. The “Southern Cross” is one of the most beautiful of the constellations here. Only those who “follow the sea in ships” can realize the wonders and grandeur of the deep, and surely nothing can more deeply impress the thinking mind with belief in the Great Creator, “who holds it all as in the hollow of His hand, whose voice the winds and the sea obey.”

One day while it was blowing quite a gale and we were perhaps a hundred miles or more from land a swarm of butterflies swept over our deck. They were too sprightly to be caught, but as the wind was blowing favorably for their resistless voyage they no doubt found their way safely to shore.

Upon first arriving at Montevideo, having been one hundred and five days on ship with but a two hours' visit to the shore at Porta Praya, we determined—Dr. Horwitz, Lieutenant Gillis and I—upon a walk. We trigged off in our best citizens' clothes, got in a boat and pulled for the shore a mile distant. We were pleased to find here a nicely constructed iron wharf, the building of which, we afterward learned with regret, had caused the failure of the enterprising Englishman who ventured its construction. He had every reason to believe that so favored a city would rapidly increase in trade, and visions of immense profits rose before him; but “Dame Fortune” often disappoints the most sanguine of her votaries, and very soon after the poor Englishman finished his wharf a revolution broke out which lasted for years, trade ceased, and his investment paid little or nothing. The custom house there was quite an imposing structure. The immense cathedral which so impressed us with its grandeur from a distance was disappointing on a nearer approach. The constant revolutions had prevented its completion and the outside walls were rough and unfinished. The interior, however, was in better condition, presenting a wide aisle with immense columns on either side, and a beautiful rotunda. The walls were hung with rich paintings of the Virgin Mary and our Saviour, and wax figures of the different saints. One of the fine paintings was said to be a very rare production of art, and was a gift to the church from Louis XIII. of France. We chanced to be in Montevideo during the “Holy Season” or “Passion Week,” and as in all other Roman Catholic countries it was most sacredly observed. On Good Friday every good church-man and woman habited themselves in deepest mourning and spent the day in going from church to church and from service to service. This is kept up till the following Sunday, when the mourning is turned into joy and upon the Ascension of the Risen Saviour all is gladness. In the aisles and upon the altar, and indeed throughout the immense cathedral, were huge silver candlesticks and candelabra with lighted candles, giving an effect of great beauty, and the thronging masses of heart-filled worshipers—some kneeling before the Holy Mother, some kissing the golden girdle on the image of her more Holy Son—was truly a grand and impressive sight, even to those outside the pale of Rome's communion.

LEARNING that the fever had abated in Brazil, it was now our great pleasure to leave for Rio, as upon the delivery of our stores depended our speedy return to the United States and our homes and families. We reached Rio safely, and instead of the death pall that was shrouding it in our few hours' detention on our way out, the city seemed restored to the vigor of health. Trade was brisk, and air and breezes delightful.

Brazil is the country for diamonds, and I took the opportunity to select one. Captain Grey was a connoisseur in gems, and offered to accompany me, which offer I gladly accepted. We found our way to the largest dealer in stones. He proved to be an officer in the Brazilian Army, who took the opportunity while stationed at the diamond mines to make some very choice selections. We were ushered into his rooms, where we were fairly dazzled with the wealth and brilliancy that surrounded us. Diamonds were grouped in parcels on tables or stands all around the room. Upon discussing and admiring the beauty of the gems, the officer asked “if we had ever seen a black diamond?” He said “they were very rare, but not to be compared to the others, and if we would excuse him, he would go into his wife's room, as she had a fine black diamond he would like us to see.” He deliberately walked out, leaving us two strangers to himself surrounded by diamonds! The captain turned to me and remarked, “Kell, that is a very trusting man, or he has a detective with his eye on us, and our situation is not a pleasant one.” The merchant soon returned with his wife's rare gem, holding it up for our admiration. It did not equal in beauty the ones we had been examining, as we admitted. The captain remarked to the merchant that “he was surprised at his leaving us two strangers to him with his valuable possessions surrounding us.” He smiled complacently and said, “Ah, gentlemen, I know whom to trust.” I made a selection and he had it set for me.

Brazil is also famous for the beautiful work done in feathers. From the natural feathers, so exquisitely and highly colored, the nuns make flowers—the camellia japonica and carnations being among the handsomest. The birds of this latitude are very gorgeous and beautiful. The charming little humming bird is a marvel from its great variety, there being several very distinct kinds. I procured a handsome bunch of the flowers, and a few of the little stuffed birds to poise upon them to make the bouquet complete. The butterflies and beetles here are simply gorgeous. Insect life is here seen in its most beautiful aspect, and it seems to me one must acquire in Brazil the tastes of a naturalist if their eyes and hearts are open to take in the beautiful handiwork of Nature's God.

Our officers were invited by the French Minister to attend the “Te Deums” to be offered for the preservation of the lives of the Emperor and Empress of the French in the late attempted assassination. I did not leave the ship, it being my day's duty on board, but it was, I learned, a grand occasion, all officers from all the ships in the harbor appearing in full dress uniforms to do full justice to this occasion for thankfulness.

Even the beauties and diversions of a foreign country became wearisome to hearts growing anxious for a sight of their native land and reunion with families and friends, and it was with great rejoicing that we found our stores all landed and the orders given to set sail “homeward bound.” Our voyage home was quite eventless, except that our patience was often sorely tried by the calms we encountered; but the month of July found us safely landed in New York harbor, from which port we had sailed eight months before. Home and happiness! Oh, dwellers on the land, can you imagine, or, far more, can you appreciate, the joy of a sailor's welcome home? But this joy was to be of short duration—only three short weeks. I found I could not be detached from the Store Ship Supply and have it count as a two years' cruise to me unless I made the second trip in her. Late in September I returned to the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and the 9th of October found us again “outward bound.” The last link of communication was broken as the Highlands of Navesink disappeared below the western horizon. We had a glorious breeze directly aft and ran at the rate of eight or nine knots an hour. Several little sparrows took refuge on board, having been blown off by the fresh northwest wind. I endeavored to revive them by giving them bread crumbs and fresh water, and these little passengers of the feathered tribe staid with us some hours. When not on watch or duty I amused myself reading “Pickwick Papers,” then a new and popular book, or if tired of that light pastime, varied my reading with the “Chemistry of Common Life.” Our lovely weather was not of long duration. About the middle of the month found us with head winds and a rough sea tossing and pitching most uncomfortably, and two ships in sight almost in company with us. One of these was a large clipper ship, and she presented a beautiful sight as she passed near us under a perfect cloud of canvas, like a great bird with outstretched wings seeking a place of safety from the coming storm. We had now to prepare ourselves for a gale, or a succession of gales, from southeast, northeast and northwest points of the compass; the last, rising to its height at noon, was certainly grand and magnificent. The “pen of a ready writer” or the brush of a skilful artist might convey a faint picture to the imagination, but one must be an eye-witness to appreciate the grandeur of such a storm at sea. Picture to yourself a wild horse of the prairie with nostrils distended, mane flying to the breeze, eyes flashing madness as he exerts every muscle in speed to escape the consuming fire as it roars in flames and rapidly encroaches upon his fated heels! Such a comparison presented itself to me as on my watch I stood by the helmsman and watched his careful steering as our ship sped before the gale under close reef sail at the rate of thirteen knots an hour, huge billows bursting in an ocean of foam close upon our wake, often washing our feet as we stood upon the upper deck, so madly did the waves dash on us; then would our good ship strain every cord, as it were, to escape the fast-following sea, as towering high above the billows would break close upon our feet. Indeed, the sea was not like itself. It resembled more a desert of floating sand driven by the tempest. The sun shone bright in the clear sky above and the wind howled as it lashed the combing sea, driving the spoondrift like mist through the air and covering the vast ocean in a sea of foam—a scene grand and magnificent to behold! How constantly are those reminded who travel on the great deep of the wonderful works and goodness of the Great Creator! One day tossed and driven by the raging tempest, the next evening, perhaps, sailing pleasantly along under quiet skies with a full moon beaming upon a stilled and tranquil ocean.

Having only three lieutenants on board, our watch seemed to come round very fast and keep us very busy. Some sport we sometimes had. Our men thought to enliven our quiet by doing some fishing. From a school of “trigger fish” they caught quite a number, which we had for dinner, and were surprised to find them quite palatable. It is a small fish, about the size of a fresh-water perch, with a skin in roughness resembling the shark, and teeth like a sheepshead; but the name is given to it from a peculiar fin on the back which can be set like the trigger of a gun, and by touching a spring the fin will fall. We also caught a beautiful dolphin, and our cook excelling in preparing chowder, we had fish chowder and dolphin steaks; but the dolphin's hues really seemed too gay and beautiful to make him a dish for food. It was like utilizing the rainbow! We had not been long enough at sea to need a replenished larder, and even in that day we had many canned goods and French preparations, soups, etc., that kept up a creditable table for us in mid-ocean. There are few fish that a ship's cook or caterer will not try his hand upon by way of experiment and variety.

Our sailing was now becoming slow and monotonous, as we were nearing the belt where storms and gales scarce ever intruded. We sometimes, however, had heavy rains. During a pouring downfall orders were given by the caterer to turn out the ducks that they might enjoy several inches of fresh water swashing our decks. They enjoyed it to the full, as their lively quacks testified. Then the pigs were marshalled out with orders to be scrubbed! Such squealing was perhaps never before heard on a well-organized ship, but it was a very amusing scene to officers and crew. Our voyage was necessarily a very slow one, being heavily laden with stores. We were peculiarly unfortunate in having to contend with light head winds. It was at this time my pleasure and privilege to read for the first time a book, then new, Captain Maury's “Physical Geography of the Sea.” He mentioned rare instances of similar weather to that we had been having, and accounted for it in a scientific way, explaining that the heat of the African deserts cause there a vacuum, which the trade winds rushing to fill leave latitudes of the ocean subject to irregular winds and squalls, and the fine winds and weather we should have had were doubtless refreshing some wild Africans in their distant desert homes. I know it is very bad taste ever to differ with science, but I was almost persuaded to add to my science a little of a sailor's superstition and to lay our ill luck in bad weather and detention of voyage to the death or suicide of a favorite black pet cat on board. Some of the men in their kindness of heart overfed the poor beast with raw beef, whereupon its deranged digestion caused violent fits, and in one of these attacks overboard it went! But I would not like to acknowledge to my friends that I belonged or adhered too closely to my sailor brotherhood in their superstitions of “Flying Dutchmen,” “black cats,” “sailing from ports on Friday,” etc. Bad weather, like many other ills, cannot last always, and before very long we were again sailing on smiling summer seas. I recall with delight, even at this distance of time, many of my beautiful watch hours on board the Store Ship Supply. Sometimes the morning watch, with the sea as smooth as glass, a pleasant breeze and our good ship under all sail traveling at the rate of six or seven knots an hour, the stars brilliant in the blue vault above, the eastern horizon softly lighting up for the coming day, after which the glad sun in all his glorious majesty rose behind a well-defined cloud whose edges fringed with the brightest golden tint gave glory to God and peaceful gratitude to the heart of man. In these lonely watches a man's heart is filled with the haunting memories of home and loved ones, and one becomes transported there and holds sweet communion with home's inmates on winged winds of thought! I remember reading at this time a book, that interested me very much, McIlvaine's “Evidences of Christianity.” It is scarcely less charming than a book of more recent date, Sir Henry Drummond's “Natural Laws in the Spiritual World.”

We arrived in the city of Montevideo December 5, 1858. Soon after our arrival we were boarded by a boat from the Flag Ship St. Laurence, the officer of which informed us that we were the first vessel of the Paraguay expedition out from the United States. We had hoped to find the Frigate Sabine there with late news and letters from home. Of course the papers were filled with the prospect of war with Paraguay on account of indignities offered to the American Consul and our flag. Upon inquiry we found it was the current belief and the opinion we had formed ourselves, that President Lopez would readily apologize and treat upon equitable terms sooner than fight. He was said to be more willing to do this than to pay damages for the loss of American property. The English had lately called him to account for disrespect offered their minister. Lopez made amends, and it was the general opinion that it only required the arrival of our forces in full to have our troubles amicably adjusted. We soon had at anchor the Frigate St. Laurence, the Sloop Falmouth, the Brigs Perry and Bainbridge, and the day after we arrived the Steamer Fulton made her appearance, and shortly after the Water Witch followed. We took advantage of the first fair breeze and got under way for Buenos Ayres on the morning of the 8th. We had only gone about forty miles above Montevideo when the wind hauled ahead and we were obliged to anchor. The view here from deck was very singular. Although the water was only about twenty-five feet deep, there was no land in sight, and but for the freshness of the water and its clay or mud color we might have imagined ourselves on the broad ocean. It took us about two days to make the trip to the city of Buenos Ayres. But our nearest approach to the town was about eight miles distant, on account of the shallow water. A few years previous to this even small boats could not approach nearer than several hundred yards, when horses and vehicles would drive out to take passengers to terra firma. At the time of which I write, however, affairs had wonderfully improved in the completion of a long wharf, alongside of which the boats landed in comfort and convenience. There was another great achievement in the enterprise of the people, adding to the comfort of seafarers, in the running of a little steamer several times a day from the city to the shipping. It was both convenient and pleasant for us to take steamer and go to the city in the morning, spend the day sight-seeing or visiting and return to our quarters on board ship at night.

The city of Buenos Ayres is one of the finest of the South American cities. It is the Capital of the State of its name, and also the Capital of the Argentine Republic or Confederation. It is on the western side of the La Plata estuary, which is about thirty or forty miles wide, and about one hundred and fifty miles from the sea. It has the very great disadvantage of trade in the difficult navigation of the La Plata and the want of a commodious harbor. It is also subject to the pamparos which sweep across the pampas from the Andes with relentless fury, and which I have before described as witnessing at Montevideo. There are some very handsome public buildings, notably the cathedral, which covers half a square, its walls being adorned with some of the finest pictures (from the old masters) known to Spanish art. The name, signifying fine or “pure air,” would seem very indicative of good health, but the water, a most essential factor for good health, is not good. The numerous wells have a brackish taste, and the only really fine water is the cistern water gathered from the roofs of the houses of the rich, and apparently for their use alone. Living there must be very cheap, for the finest beef in the market only brought two or three cents a pound, and to see the fine animals in their slaughter pens that were to be sacrificed for their hides and tallow alone was both a surprise and regret to North American spectators. From these South American ports we saw shipped, every few days, shiploads of horses, some very fine ones purchased here for a mere song, from ten to twenty dollars each, and carried to Calcutta or other ports in India for the use of cavalry in the India wars. Of course, it is easy to account for their cheapness, for it costs little or nothing to rear them, as the rich, luxuriant grasses on the pastures afford inexhaustible food for herds of horses and cattle. As a variety for our table, the caterer purchased some ostrich eggs, and we had omelette for breakfast, one egg taking the place of a dozen fowl eggs. I cannot say that our mess relished the omelettes much, they being very coarse in flavor, wanting the delicacy that is always found in the poultry-yard luxury.

CHRISTMAS at sea, or Christmas in a foreign land! How different from the dear and happy season in one's own land and home. But I must not complain of that far-from-home Christmas in “the backward distance of the past.” The outcoming vessels of the Paraguay Expedition brought out many near and dear friends of mine—Robert D. Minor, roommate, classmate, friend of my boyhood; Charles F. Fahs, Robert Carter (of the kingly Carters of Shirley), Captain Pegram, and many old and valued friends. Many of those friends that made bright that long-past Christmas in South America have gone before me to a home that is eternal! I often think wonderingly if it be possible that any class of naval officers have ever formed so brotherly an attachment for each other as did the Class of 1841.

Between Christmas and New Year we had fitted out with armament and stores the Steamer Fulton, which with Commodore Schubrick and suite, and our commissioner, Mr. Bowlin, was to proceed up the river, to be followed by the other vessels as fast as we could arm and store them. We learn that the Emperor of Brazil had dispatched a special minister to President Lopez to advise him to “pay all demands and avoid a collision with the United States, and should he be in want of funds Brazil would advance the required amount.” This, of course, we were glad to hear, and gave some credence to, for we were very anxious to learn the prospect of the return of the squadron to the United States with a peaceable treaty with Paraguay.

There is on shore at this place a very fine hospital, and attached to it a beautiful little chapel, to which several of us repaired, in one of our walks, seeing that great crowds were tending in that direction. We learned that five fair young ladies were to “take the veil,” or become nuns. The chapel was lighted with two hundred or more large wax candles, reflecting a beautiful light upon the rich hangings of the altar and walls of the chapel and the gorgeous robes of the priests, of whom there were quite a number officiating. The services were very long and at times tiresome and monotonous, from being conducted in Latin, and the pantomime of the priests quite unintelligible to us, but the music throughout was very beautiful and solemn. The young ladies came in robed in purest white with wreaths of orange blossoms on their heads. After many prayers and much chanting by the priests they were led up one by one to the officiating high priest, and kneeling before him received his blessing. After this he clipped from the heads of each three tresses of hair, one from each side and one from the top of the head. As a spectator I supposed this was to be done more thoroughly afterwards, and the young maidens would in being shorn of what St. Paul calls “a glory to woman” show their desire or willingness to give up the vanities of the world and the show and pride of life. After this ceremony followed more chanting, during which the maidens were led into the vestry-room, leaving the kneeling multitude a silent throng. In a few moments they returned, the wreaths of orange blossoms gone, or replaced with plain long white veils, and on the shoulder each one carried a black wooden cross, three or four feet in length. This scene was very impressive indeed. To me it was a very sad one. This resignation in those so young of the greatest joys of life and the truest mission of woman! Even the blessed privilege of being saints of holy firesides and happy homes, leading the hearts therein through her sweet influence and example to happiness and Heaven!

Among the last of the vessels coming out to the Paraguay Expedition was the Preble, commanded by Captain Thornton A. Jenkins. The three lieutenants—Lowry, Breeze and Minor—were old friends and classmates of mine, and I began to think strongly of volunteering on board this ship, that I might take my part in battle if such duty were necessary. The two frigates and the store ship were to remain at Montevideo, as they drew too much water to ascend the river to the rendezvous, Corrientes. I think there is nothing a young man hates so much as inactivity and monotony. The weary weeks of waiting after all the ships were fitted out and filled with stores seemed something to be dreaded. In the event of war all that could be spared from the frigates, the Falmouth and the store ships would, of course, be sent up, but they must wait for further news. I determined not to wait. The Province of Corrientes is eight hundred miles up the river, and the rendezvous appointed was at the confluence of the rivers La Plata and Parana. I was very much pleased that permission was granted me to leave the Supply temporarily, and Captain Jenkins accepted my services. I took up my quarters on the Preble, sharing the comforts of my friend Minor. The wind and tide not being very favorable, we did not leave Montevideo for a day or two. One afternoon Minor and I thought we would enjoy a stroll together through the beautiful public garden, “Margat's,” which is several miles from the city, a fashionable drive for ladies, and a very pleasant horseback ride for us. Having always been a lover of flowers, and wishing to make some return for the attention of the guide and gardener, I ordered a bouquet. He gathered, it seemed to me, from everything rare and beautiful, and a great quantity, till Bob begged me to stop him, whispering that my “bouquet might cost me five or ten dollars;” but I let him follow his own taste and discretion. Minor turned aside, still enjoying the garden, and I asked my indebtedness, and was amazed to find it about fifty cents. Of course I did not tell it, but had Bob's sympathy in consequence, he believing it to have been very costly. Now both he and I were married men, but our friend Breeze was visiting and enjoying as a young bachelor calls on the beautiful Spanish senoritas on shore, in love with half a dozen; so we determined, at Minor's suggestion, that our bouquet should give a great amount of pleasure, as he thought it had cost a considerable sum. Attaching a card, with name of fair one and compliments, we had the bouquet placed in Breeze's room as soon as we reached the ship. Breeze, being on shore in another direction, never found out the joke we played on him, and we never had the satisfaction of hearing his exclamations of delight over his beautiful bouquet. Minor was one of those large-hearted men with life and face all brimming over with the sunshine of his happy heart. A very “Nathaniel in whom there was no guile.” I felt that I gained a great deal by my transfer to the Preble temporarily in the opportunity afforded me of taking the trip of six or eight hundred miles in the interior of South America. The Supply, after delivering eight heavy guns and a quantity of stores, was so very much lightened that it began to be hoped that she might be able to cross the bar and join the expedition. Much good was hoped to accrue from the display of a strong force to sustain our commissioner and the proof of easy access of our squadron hundreds of miles into the very heart of the country. Before we were able to leave Montevideo, on account of head winds and unfavorable weather, we heard of the arrival of our commodore and commissioner at Corrientes, the port where the whole squadron was ordered to rendezvous. Our passage up the river was very slow. On account of danger of the water shoaling we had sometimes to anchor and send the little Surveying Steamer Argentina ahead of us for soundings; and the Steamer Southern Star ordered to tow us not having much power, we were obliged to be very much governed by the winds. We arrived at Colonia, a little town almost opposite Buenos Ayres, about the 20th of January. Here we had the encouraging news or report that “President Urquisa, of the Argentine Republic, was acting as political adviser to President Lopez, of Paraguay, and was insisting upon amicable terms and an immediate treaty of peace.” This made the prospect of war grow quite dim before our eyes and encouraged the hope that not a hostile gun would be fired. With the Empire of Brazil and the Argentine Confederation on our side we were safe.

Sunday on board a ship depends very much upon the temperament of the person if it be a day of enjoyment. Of course there is the usual routine—muster, inspection of quarters, reading the Articles of War, etc. If there is no chaplain, the captain, if he is a religious man or desires it, usually reads the service, the crew attend if they wish and the officers almost without exception do; but the men without work or duty find light reading, or gather in groups and spin yarns for the general amusement of their fellow-sailors. I have often thought how beautiful it would be to see an entire ship's company influenced by religious principles, every man performing his duty with cheerfulness and alacrity. The efficiency of such a ship's crew would arrive at the height of human attainment. It is said of General Havelock, who has left a name memorable in history for deeds of gallantry and daring in the wars of India, that in selecting recruits for his command he was governed principally by the religious education and morals of the men, trusting to their making the best soldiers. He gathered around him such a body of men that when deeds of valor were required, when any “forlorn hope” was to be carried, “Havelock's Saints”—as they were termed in the army—were always called upon. Thus will it ever be—true religion and heroism go hand in hand. In our late Civil War who were the heroes?—Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee, Christian gentlemen, Christian warriors, God's faithful soldiers and servants till their life's end!

In going up the Parana River we stopped at the town of Rosario, about a hundred and eighty miles from Buenos Ayres. Breeze and I went on shore for a walk. We found it a town of considerable commerce and between fifteen and twenty thousand inhabitants. Upon first landing we found a species of crimson verbena, apparently wild, and we imagined the flora of the country must be very bright and beautiful. The shrubs about the residences were handsome and luxuriant and the vegetable gardens looked inviting and tempting, but upon leaving the outskirts of the town the country presented itself in one broad expansive view, a flat prairie with close-browsed grass dotted over with herds of cattle, horses, hogs, dogs and gulls. Such a landscape can be seen through this extensive country for hundreds of miles, with little variation. There are immense slaughter houses, too, for the only articles of export are hides, tallow, horns and bones. The dogs and gulls so numerous were leading bandit lives, feeding upon the offal of the slaughter pens. Flowers were rare, and excepting the accident of brightness and beauty in the little red verbena that welcomed us at the landing place, we saw none.

A day or two after leaving Rosario we learned from a passenger steamer that passed us with news from Asuncion, the Capital of Paraguay, that the commodore and suite and our minister, Mr. Bowlin, had reached Asuncion and been graciously received by President Lopez, who evinced every disposition to have an amicable settlement of our difficulty, and to establish with us a new treaty. There seemed nothing now in our way unless the bombastic Spaniard, always conceiving it undignified to move or act with promptness, assumed a procrastinating slowness, for which he is noted. We arrived at Parana early in February, and our first news was “peace is concluded.” Happy intelligence! At four o'clock in the afternoon of the 6th day of February the captain invited five officers (myself among the number) to accompany him in full-dress uniform to call upon our minister, Mr. Yancey, and his family. His first salutation after greeting us was congratulations that a treaty had been concluded between Commissioner Bowlin and President Lopez, of Paraguay. After a pleasant visit to Mr. Yancey we accompanied him to be presented to President Urquiza. We found him an agreeable and accomplished gentleman. He had been the principal adviser of Lopez and had just returned with the pleasing news of amity. He visited our ship the next day at the early hour of six in the morning, with Mr. Yancey. We had a grand turn-out in full dress, manned the yards and saluted. The ladies visited the ship at 10 o'clock, and in the afternoon we made ready for sailing to meet the returning commodore and commissioner. We had not long to wait. We met the Steamer Fulton with the party on the 18th of February, and were ordered to “turn about” and follow the Fulton to Rosario, the rendezvous, after which all would proceed to Montevideo, preparatory to fitting out for home. Arriving at Rosario on the 22d of February, we found the entire Paraguay Expedition anchored, “returning home from the war.” It being Washington's Birthday, the ships were gaily dressed with flags, and at meridian a salute was fired by all the vessels of the squadron. In the afternoon I was detached and transferred back to the Store Ship Supply with the men I had taken with me. I was joyfully welcomed by my messmates, one claiming the old hat of Lopez, another his epaulettes, etc., all of which I had promised to capture in warfare and present as trophies on my return. Peace having been proclaimed I claimed exemption from the fulfilment of my promises so rashly made in view of war. I had a picture of Lopez, however, which caused a great deal of amusement, and which now adorns an old scrapbook. It is said not to be a caricature, either, though I really hoped it was, for it had no claim to beauty and very little to intelligence. The forehead is narrow and the lower jaw immense, showing more the look of a bon vivant than the leader and ruler of men and a republic—rather a despot at that! We did not linger long at Montevideo, glad of our orders “homeward bound,” and arrived in the city of New York early in May, 1859.

A FEW short weeks of happiness at home, and the fourth of July found me under orders to “proceed without delay to the Pensacola Navy Yard and report for duty to Commodore James McKay McIntosh.” While I should like to have had a longer leave, these orders pleased me, for they meant two years or more on shore, and it was the first shore-station duty I had ever been ordered to since I entered the Navy. The position on receiving ship at Norfolk could scarcely count for shore duty, since I was on positive duty and not able to leave the ship at least one half or more of the time. The Yard at this time was one of the most beautiful and attractive in the United States. It was handsomely laid out, with a very wide, well-paved center walk, which led from the wharf to the commodore's residence; half way up this walk was an archway formed by the building in which the stores were kept. The commodore's was the center house, with six handsome residences on each side, which were occupied by officers according to rank. Surrounding these houses were beautiful grounds, filled with tropical plants, lading the air with perfume of jasmine, heliotrope and violet at most seasons of the year. A wide brick pavement ran the entire front length of the thirteen houses in row, giving great comfort and convenience, and well-kept parks or grass plats delighted the eye in front. In the center of these parks were two octagon buildings, one containing the offices and the other the chapel of the Navy Yard.

In the ship yards on the right of the landing were being built or nearing completion the fine Sloops of War Pensacola and Seminole, which were launched during that summer. To the left of the landing were the residences of the junior officers and quarters of the men. Outside the Yard gate on one side was the little village of Warrington, built up for the convenience of trade, and through which we passed to the naval hospital, and beyond the hospital was old Fort Barancas, famous for having been built by the Spaniards. The United States Army officers and their families sojourned at Barancas, and were within pleasant visiting distance of the Yard, and many were the social civilities exchanged. General Winder was in command of the Fort. Lieutenants Gilmore and Slemmer were the officers next in command, both of whom took active part and rose to high rank in the Civil War on the Federal side. At the time of which I write the thought of war scarcely showed itself, even as a speck on the mental horizon of the wise and far-thinking men of national reputation. Few, I think , would have allowed themselves to believe that our differences could not be settled, if brought to issue, on the floors or in the halls of Congress. Our commander at the Navy Yard was E. Farrand. He was of Northern extraction, but his heart was in the land and State of his adoption, and his loyalty and bravery in time of need was very earnestly given to the State of Florida and the Southern cause. Next in rank was the first lieutenant, Chas. W. Hayes, of Alabama. I filled the place of second, or junior, lieutenant. Dr. Bishop was surgeon. Purser Warrington (a son of the commodore of that name) was paymaster. He was a clever gentleman. Rev. Chas. W. Thomas, our faithful and efficient chaplain, was very much respected and beloved by officers and men. The master of the Yard was Captain Pearson, and Mr. Porter was the naval constructor. To his inventive brain some believe we are indebted for the original idea of the ironclad, brought into service some years later. Porter was a very modest man, of few words, and not being on the “side of the strongest artillery,” or the winning side, of the Civil War, he died shortly after its close almost penniless. Mr. Abert, a very cultivated, pleasant gentleman, was civil engineer, with Mr. Alexander as assistant. Mr. Gonzales was the storekeeper. The commodore's secretary and nephew, Lachlan H. McIntosh, resided in his household. These dozen or more families, combined with hospital and fort families, being within visiting distance of the city of Pensacola, made up a very delightful society, and the incoming ships for repairs or rendezvous added gaiety and pleasure of every kind. The commodore's receptions were as grand events of their kind as the entertainments of the exclusive “four hundred,” so paternally watched over by the late Ward McAllister, and etiquette was strictly observed upon every occasion by him. Of course we kept open houses, to which our brother officers coming in from sea were warmly welcomed at any time, and where they were glad to spend their evenings, if only to be reminded of distant homes and as happy firesides!

This Navy Yard, being the only one south of Norfolk, was kept very busy, and did a great deal of work for the Gulf Squadron, the work always being very ably done. Although cut off in a great measure from the rest of the world and in a port of limited commerce, we lived in great comfort and luxury. The waters afforded us the finest fish and oysters in the world, and the surrounding country furnished us abundance of game, such as wild turkey and venison, and we had very fine poultry of every description. Gophers were abundant, we buying them by the barrel, and sea turtle were a luxury sometimes brought in by the ships. The country people kept us supplied with fine fruit in the season, and the little coasting schooners made the tropical fruits a daily enjoyment, especially pineapples and oranges. The flowers in this congenial climate make a wonderful growth. I began a little conservatory, through the kindness of Mrs. Farrand, a great botanist and lover of flowers, and my next-door neighbor, and by the time I could bring my family to the Navy Yard, the first of November, the plants had grown not inches but feet in height. Jessamines, geraniums, heliotropes, and many lovely plants looked as though my little greenhouse had been “a thing of beauty” for several years.

There were several very pleasant and notable families residing in Pensacola at this time who were on sociable terms at the Yard, among them Senator Mallory (he was afterwards Secretary of the Confederate States Navy), Major Chase, an Army officer, and the charming widow of Commodore Dallas. This lady was the sister of Madame Murat, the widow of Achillé Murat, whose father the first Napoleon had made a king. When Napoleon III. came to the exalted position his uncle had occupied he did not forget the past, and Madame Murat was invited to his Court, and made a visit there during the reign of the beautiful Eugenie. While we were residents at the Navy Yard a very brilliant social event occurred in the city of Pensacola—the marriage of Senator Mallory's charming daughter Maggie to a gentleman of Bridgeport, Connecticut. The Roman Catholic Bishop of Florida performed the ceremony, which was very impressive. He specially wished the young couple and the assembled multitude to know (or to remember) that in the Roman Catholic Church there was no such thing known or allowed as divorce! That literally and most solemnly the vows they were taking upon themselves were holy, and that the ties indissoluble; that those whom God and His Holy Church had joined together, no man, or laws of man, “could put asunder.”

Social life at the Navy Yard and Fort was really the ideal life perfected—so many warm and brotherly attachments as then existed between the officers making the interest in their families deep and abiding with its undercurrent of sincerity and affection. It is so pleasant to look back and see in memory my loved friend Minor, the gallant Maffitt, dear Willie Whittle, Eggleston, true as steel, Gillis, and so many that shared those early days, sitting in comfort on my wide verandas, tossing my little sons about, or walking with them in their arms, or listening to their sweet prattle with keen relish and delight, some with homesick longing, no doubt, for their own “lares and penates.” Maffitt was a widower at this time; with a true sailor's appreciation and admiration for the female sex it was no wonder that he was a great favorite everywhere. But the summer was wearing away, and the latter part of it found the shadow of death hovering over the beautiful Navy Yard in the declining health of the commandant, my relative, Commodore McIntosh; also the angry clouds of war were gathering ominously to burst upon us and our beloved Southland in a few short months! Ah, little did we surmise then that the next spring, as Nature was crowning herself with verdure, there would open for us four years of desolating war through which nothing could have sustained us but the holy fire of patriotism that burned on the altar of our hearts, sacred to love and home! War to a disappointed end, with nothing to comfort or uphold the spirit in defeat but the consciousness of duty eagerly and nobly done in the cause that we deemed just, and true, and right! But I anticipate.

We were still living happy lives in quiet homes when illness came, and then death, to claim as his own the noble spirit of Commodore James McKay McIntosh. He died on the 4th of September, 1860. For nearly fifty years he served his country, and literally “died in harness.” A man of Southern birth and parentage, a compeer of the gallant Tatnall, Buchanan, and many other noble officers of his date and age, one can conceive the pain he would have borne in severing (as they did) the ties and duties of fifty years' service under a flag he loved and honored. But death spared him any sacrifice of feeling, and in the sunset glory of his days, honored and respected in his profession, and by his fellow-men, we laid him in a temporary tomb, till Georgia, his native State, claimed what remained of her noble son and early in March, 1861, he was buried with his ancestors at old Midway Churchyard, Liberty County, Georgia.

In the latter part of December I obtained a month's leave of absence and repaired to Macon, Georgia, where my wife and children were in her father's home, and here I was when the State of Georgia held her convention. I went to Milledgeville and was present when the ordinance of secession was passed. I at once forwarded my resignation to the Government I had served from early boyhood, and espoused the cause of my State, deeming it my sacred and honorable duty to take this step. I did not question my heart as to the pain involved. I knew it would be the severance of many pleasant ties and manly friendships. From this time my life seemed divided into two parts, and so I will divide this history of my life.

At the beginning of the Civil War I seemed to leave my youth and the service of the country I had faithfully served for almost twenty years, far behind me in the past; and life began anew for me, stern and sacred duties, to which I gave myself with the best ability at my command.

I wish in the second part of this my narrative to give to history and posterity the truth of the cruises of the Confederate Ships Sumter and Alabama, and the part it was my privilege to take and share as executive officer of both in their glorious and successful work.