the fleets of the world), fringed by hills whose verdure seemed undying, over which were spread the beautiful trees of a tropical clime.

An opportunity at last occurred of setting foot upon terra firma once more, which was as gladly embraced—permission having been granted to visit the shore opposite to Rio, where is the village of San Domingo and the Praya Grande; with several officers we were pulled in the second cutter to intercept one of those graceful lateen rigged boats, called "felloas," which are seen in such numbers flitting in every direction over these beautiful waters. As soon as we were landed at the village, there ensued an amusing scene in paying for our passage. The sum of two "dumps" (about four cents in the currency of the United States), each, being demanded, we placed our quotas as nearly as we could make them, in the hands of one of the party, who acted as spokesman, who tendered the commandante of the felloa one of our silver coins, much greater in value than the aggregate sum of our passage money,—which was indignantly refused by the tawny Brazilian, who was immediately assailed by each member of the party who had any pretensions to language other than his own; from which babel we were but too happy to escape, learning, however, when we were overtaken by the linguists, that they had fairly talked "the old fellow" down, and compelled him to take more money than (even allowing for difference of currency) he had demanded.

To a person who has never visited tropical countries, a landing upon this part of the Empire of Brazil, must be productive of much pleasure. At times, it is true, the heat is oppressive, but then the delightful sea-breeze setting in at regular hours, amply compensates for the inconvenience of the "terrales," the term applied to the wind which blows off the land.

We wished much to have enjoyed the society of the opposite city, but the fell destroyer held his revels there, and we could only manage a stolen visit to it by night in one of the swift felloas from Praya Grande, having to make a hasty flight on board ship early the next morning—gaining but little information by our trip, excepting the assurance that those who had promised so fairly for Mons. Pharoux were indeed true prophets.

The call of "all hands up anchor," awakened us on the morning of the 18th of March, and before all hands were on deck, we were being towed out of the harbor by one of the small steamers, to undertake the longest part of our cruise. The view was then as fine as could be imagined; we were near the outlet, but Corcovado, Sugarloaf, The Forts, and town were all in sight, and we had but to turn our eyes from one magnificent sight, to have them greeted by another. I was much struck by the appearance of Sugarloaf Mountain as we passed; it is of great height, and the reader will readily understand the peculiarity which gives its name. At the time a cloud encircled its brow, within a short distance of the summit, yet leaving its peak plainly visible, as if a wreath had been cast over it, and had rested in that position. But soon Rio, and its beauties had faded in the distance, and we were steering our lonely course for the Cape.

CHAPTER II.

Telling Tales out of School​—​Double the Cape​—​The Flying Dutchman​—​Albatross and Cape Pigeons​—​Catching the Albatross​—​The Man who Ate the Albatross​—​Superstition of Sailors​—​Man Overboard​—​Lying to​—​Accident​—​Death​—​The Sailor's Grave.

It is very difficult to find incidents on board of a man-of-war which you can feel justified in setting before the public; for be it known, in regard to the "secrets of this prison-house," that "such unwonted blazon may not be." Now, on board a merchantman, a person might, if afflicted with Cacoethes Scribendi, detail the peculiarities of the skipper, and any little accident which may have befallen him; such as the admixture of briny fluid, which Father Neptune may have chosen to infuse into his glass of sherry, by sending an envoy, in the shape of a wave, across the poop, who dropped his credentials as he passed over the unclosed skylight: the numerous evils which befell the mate: the jokes of Jones: the puns of Smith, or the sallies of Sandy. But here we are forbidden to walk shodden over sacred ground and details of the cruise must be confined to generalities; otherwise the travels of the celebrated Gulliver would be eclipsed, Baron Munchausen lose his claim to veracity, and the shade of the venerable Miller slink back to its original punishment.

A strong northerly wind drove us along the coast of Brazil a little farther south than was our intention to have steered; but upon its changing, we mended our course, and soon doubled the Cape of Good Hope, without any incident worthy of notice,—not even seeing the Flying Dutchman; and if I except the white-winged albatross which followed in our wake, and the graceful Cape pigeon that strove to emulate our speed, I may say that, to all appearance, we were alone upon the ocean,—the moving centre of one vast dial of water enlarging its circumference as we advanced. But here I must be allowed to notice the occurrence of one of those coincidences which serve to keep alive those smouldering fires of superstition, which Education and Experience have done so much to quench. It had been the practice to fish (?) for the friendly and companionable albatross with a line towed astern, to which a hook was attached, baited with a piece of pork. Now many had been the protests made against these proceedings by some of our most stanch and fearless men. They prophesied in substance, if not in words, that