laughed a pleasant little laugh of defiance, and the words, "home, home," came floating up to me from her deck.

Another trial. The men had theirs, and were staunch. It was the master's turn. Heading still to the southwards, but almost becalmed, I saw a swift steamer ranging fast up with us from astern. This time the Stars and Stripes were plainly evident. She came alongside. Her captain was on our deck in a moment, and engaged in earnest conversation with the good Sir John. By the wave of his hand and a word caught here and there, I knew that the kindly American was pressing the veteran to take passage in his steamer. He drew a little almanac from his pocket, and there seemed to be some comparison as to dates; but Sir John finally, with a moistened eye, touched the other on the shoulder, pointed upwards to the British ensign, and firmly shook his head. Away rushed the friendly steamer, and the crowding passengers on her deck took leave of us with reiterated cheers.

My dream was drawing to a close; but I yet was housed snugly in my new position, when the look-out at the mast-head announced a sail. It might have been the same day, or the next, or a week later. But he announced a sail--then another--and another--and lastly a steamer under canvas. The squadron bore down upon us. It consisted of two line-of-battle-ships, a frigate, and a screw-propeller, under command of the British Admiral in the Pacific. The greetings and salutes were over, and official etiquette was somewhat relaxed under the intense excitement of the moment, when I heard in my dream, on the quarter-deck of the flag ship, the Admiral thus addressed the carpenter, with a certain meaning twinkle in his eye. "That leaky old tub can never swim round Cape Horn, Carpenter." "I think not, your Honour," discreetly replied Mr. Chips. "Youngster," continued the Admiral turning quickly to a little middy, "go to Captain B. with my compliments, and tell him to call an immediate survey on the Discovery Ship." The little middy touched his cap respectfully, and off he jumped with his message. "Mr. C.," cried the Admiral to the other midshipman who stood by the signal-locker, "signalize the propeller to light her fires, and get up all steam." In thirty seconds four bits of bunting flew out from the mizen royal-mast head.

The last object that I saw in my vision was the figure of a woman, walking the ramparts of an old Spanish city on the Pacific coast of Central America. Matronly, and dignified in her air and bearing, her featured bore the impress of past anxiety, but across them flitted at times the consciousness of approaching joy. She gazed wistfully ever 

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