nage, speaking several languages with
correctness and fluency. We appreciated the "cuisine" of the hotel,
after so long a diet upon garlic and rancid sweet oil; and were content
to pass the greater part of the time at the "Ice house," a refreshment
saloon conducted by a Vermont "Yankee," but who had been so long abroad
as to have become cosmopolitan in his ideas and opinions. The residence
of General Santa Anna, the old Mexican hero, then in exile, was pointed
out to us; a handsome building crowning a hill overlooking the town; and
we were informed that the old gentleman was still passionately fond of
his favorite amusement, cock-fighting.

"E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires."

We sailed for Southampton in the British mail steamer "Atrato," the best
appointed and most comfortable ship on board which I have ever taken
passage. She was a paddle-wheel steamer of the first class, belonging to
the Cunards, who boast that not a life or a mail has ever been lost in
their line. There was a very good band of musicians on board, and the
weather during the whole voyage was so pleasant that dancing could be
enjoyed. The screw steamers, now so rapidly superseding the old "side
wheelers," possess many advantages, it is true, but the superior
comfort of the passengers is not to be reckoned among them.

Arriving at Southampton, we took the first train for London. What
specially attracted the admiration of our little party as the train sped
along, was the exquisite beauty of the country. Almost every view would
have furnished a subject for a landscape painter. We saw vast lawns
green as emeralds, with clumps of fine trees here and there, and dotted
with cattle and sheep; and would frequently catch a glimpse of castles
and country seats beautifully ornamented with parks and gardens. It was
a series of pictures of rural repose and quiet, embellished with perfect
taste. Even the thatched cottages, with their trim hedges, their little
flower gardens, and the vines covering the outside, were most
picturesque. What a striking contrast with the log cabins and "snake"
fences in our own loved "Dixie!"

The Secretary of War, in his instructions to me, had stated that Major
Ficklin, who had lately returned from Europe, had been struck by the
qualities of a steamer which, in the Major's opinion, was admirably
adapted for blockade-running. She was called the Giraffe, a Clyde built
iron steamer, and plied as a packet between Glasg