had gained much credit from his recent successes at Galveston and
Sabine Pass, in which he had the temerity to attack heavily-armed
vessels of war with wretched river steamers manned by Texan cavalrymen.

His principal reason for visiting Brownsville was to settle about the
cotton trade. He had issued an edict that half the value of cotton
exported must be imported in goods for the benefit of the country
(government stores). The President had condemned this order as illegal
and despotic.

The officers on Magruder's Staff are a very good-looking, gentlemanlike
set of men. Their names are--Major Pendleton, Major Wray, Captain De
Ponte, Captain Alston, Captain Turner, Lieutenant-Colonel M'Neil,
Captain Dwyer, Dr Benien, Lieutenant Stanard, Lieutenant Yancey, and
Major Magruder. The latter is nephew to the General, and is a
particularly good-looking young fellow. They all live with their chief
on an extremely agreeable footing, and form a very pleasant society. At
dinner I was put in the post of honour, which is always fought for with
much acrimony--viz., the right of Mrs ----. After dinner we had numerous
songs. Both the General and his nephew sang; so also did Captain Alston,
whose corpulent frame, however, was too much for the feeble camp-stool,
which caused his sudden disappearance in the midst of a song with a loud
crash. Captain Dwyer played the fiddle very well, and an aged and
slightly-elevated militia general brewed the punch and made several
"elegant" speeches. The latter was a rough-faced old hero, and gloried
in the name of M'Guffin. On these festive occasions General Magruder
wears a red woollen cap, and fills the president's chair with great
aptitude.

It was 11.30 before I could tear myself away from this agreeable party;
but at length I effected my exit amidst a profusion of kind expressions,
and laden with heaps of letters of introduction.

* * * * *

_16th April_ (Thursday).--Now our troubles commenced. Seated in Mexican
saddles, and mounted on raw-boned mustangs, whose energy had been a good
deal impaired by a month's steady travelling on bad food, M'Carthy and I
left the hospitable mess-tent about midnight, and started in search of
Mr Sargent and his vehicle. We were under the guidance of two Texan
rangers.

About daylight we hove in sight of "Los Animos," a desolate farmhouse,
in the neighbourhood of which Mr Sargent was supposed to be encamped;
but nowhere could we