branches, threatening to uproot and cast them away forever. "There," said I to the 'colonel,' who had come upon deck when he heard we were near Hatteras, and stood beside me grasping the rail,—"There is Dixie, my jolly 'colonel.' We have come 'away daown Saouth in a few days,' haven't we; and how do you like the lay of the land? What—can't you even say 'hooray?'" But only a faint smile was the answer. Shortly after dark we descried Hatteras light, which we neared about ten o'clock; but the captain would not venture in, and so we had to lay "off and on" till daylight, which was no pleasant job, for "the wind rose and the rain fell," and gave those who selected the deck for their sleeping place (myself among the number), with the assistance of an occasional dash of salt water, a pretty thorough soaking. As soon as it was clear day our craft headed for the "swash," the wind blowing a small gale, the rain coming in squalls as if some fretful genius presided over this unhappy coast, and the waves running in shore like race-horses, spreading their foam in a thin gray mist over the narrow line of sand, which seemed endeavoring almost in vain to keep its back above the water. To our right, and north of the inlet, were the forts taken by Gen. Butler in his first Coast Expedition. Only one of these, Fort Hatteras, is now used. The other has either sunk into the sand or been almost wholly destroyed by the action of the waves. Fort Hatteras is an earthwork, but so admirably situated as to prove an almost impassible barrier to anything but ironclads. Beyond and around the fort on the land or sand side, were a few buildings used for quarters for the garrison and for ordnance stores. Anchored in the Sound, near by, were supply ships, transports, and old hulks; while here and there rows of disconsolate timbers, lifting their dripping heads above the tide, told the fate of many a noble ship of the glorious Expedition of Gen. Burnside. We "hove to" after entering the Sound to deliver the mails for the Fort; and the change from the violent rolling, tossing and pitching was such as to inspire even my old friend the 'colonel' with something of the spirit he was wont to display ere old Neptune changed his tune. After taking a look at the Fort and its surroundings, I turned my eyes to the opposite shore of the inlet, when lo, there stretched out in an almost straight line from the point into the Sound a troop or flock of—what? That was the puzzle to my mind. Were they huge gulls or windbags, cormorants or cranes, devils or dogfish? Fowl, flesh, or fish? I watched them with close attention while asking myself these questions; but ere my cogitations were finished they separated, spread their wings and took flight, apparently, but it seemed strange they did not rise from the surface of the water. They neared us presently, and I made them out to be, instead of birds, small sail-boats. "Love launched a fairy boat," &c. No love for us there, I guess, was my mental comment. "Pilots," I heard some one say. They came fluking towards us, their comparatively large sprit-sails hurrying them along at no contemptible rate of speed. There were about fifteen of them, and it seemed evident all could not get a job from our hazy skipper. "That's Jeff.'s navy," remarked one.

"Hooray for the boat that's ahead!" sang out the 'colonel.'

"Bully for the little fellow with the big sail!" exclaimed another.

"I'll bet on the cross-gaffed, giraffe-colored one!"

"Bully for the rip-staving roarer that wins!"

"Aint she a-ripping up the old salt water canvas, skearing the sharks and astonishing the sea sarpints?"

"I'll bet Jeff.'s in that boat, and he's coming to ask us to dine with him in Richmond!"

"Beauregard's in the second one!"

"No, sir, that's Stonewall Jackson!"

"D—n Stonewall Jackson, or any other man!" and remarks of a like character attested the interest felt in this novel contest by others as well as myself. The boats were pelting away in fine style, each having a loose rein. Then hurrah, my hearties! the lucky man wins, and "first come first served!" Two of the number were distinctly ahead of all the rest, and one of these slightly ahead of the other.

so that when they came up it was difficult to say which was first, and both came aboard to dispute the point, while the remaining unsuccessful ones kept on, as if philosophically resigned to a fate they could not overcome. Our hazy skipper, who was not very particular about expenses when Uncle Sam had to foot the bills, and to end all disputes, took both pilots—a piece of diplomacy I hardly expected his thick head capable of conceiving. The anchor was hoisted, and away we sped over the dark, swampy waters of Pamlico Sound. Roanoke Island lay to our right, and ever and anon we caught glimpses of the low, swampy lands of Hyde and Plymouth counties. To the left or south we beheld a continuation of islands, and shortly after the main land of Cartaret county became visible. It seemed almost wholly unsettled, the wilderness appearance being only here and there relieved by the small clearing of a turpentine plantation, fishing establishment, or the twenty-acre field of a "poor white."

We soon made Neuse river—a noble stream, upon the banks of which turpentine, pitch, rosin and tar enough might be made to supply the markets of the North. As we ascended the river the signs of habitation became more numerous although seeming "few and far between" to the eye accustomed to the more frequent settlements on Northern rivers, and the sombre hues of the pine, cedar and cypress forests were occasionally enlivened by the brighter foliage of persimmon, walnut and fig trees, the last flourishing here in great luxuriance, bearing two or rather a continuation of crops of delicious fruit in a season, and may be seen on every farm or plantation in patches of from a few trees to orchards of twenty-five acres in extent. We could also trace the courses of the many "branches" or creeks from the lighter foliage of the gum and other water-loving trees.

In the afternoon we passed Slocum's Creek, where Burnside landed his troops the evening before the battle of Newbern, and soon the spires of this city, and the shipping, hove in sight; and towards the close of the day, after a sail of ten hours, during which time we steamed eighty or ninety miles, we drew up at the pier and prepared to disembark, thankful that we could again set foot on land and leave forever the accursed "Haze" and her brutal captain and crew.

"Mind, I tell you," said one of the latter, "bad as you think the old 'Haze' is, you will before long be glad to be on board of her again—if you'd be let!"

He was laughed at; but I doubt not many of them, ere six months elapsed, wished themselves anywhere else than where they were. Still they could not see it then, but felt happy, like young bears, with all their troubles before them.

The dilapidated and seedy condition of the wharves, and the ruins of houses, mills and turpentine factories, impressed me with a premonition of what I should yet witness of the ravages of war in this fair land.

The city of Newbern bears the appearance of some age, is regularly laid out, the streets intersecting each other at right angles, and well protected from the merciless heat of summer by fine old elm trees, intermixed here and there with the chaney and other trees the names of which I do not recollect. The city is located at a point of land formed by the junction of the Trent river with the Neuse, and has altogether an imposing appearance viewed from the approach by water.

The Mass. 23d Reg't, Col. Kurtz, (who was