arrison and their friends. Mr. Poole, our
worthy consul, introduced me at the castle, and in the course of his
remarks asserted that the sea-serpent was a Yankee.

Most royally was the crew of the _Spray_ entertained by the governor.
I remained at Plantation House a couple of days, and one of the rooms
in the mansion, called the "west room," being haunted, the butler, by
command of his Excellency, put me up in that--like a prince. Indeed,
to make sure that no mistake had been made, his Excellency came later
to see that I was in the right room, and to tell me all about the
ghosts he had seen or heard of. He had discovered all but one, and
wishing me pleasant dreams, he hoped I might have the honor of a visit
from the unknown one of the west room. For the rest of the chilly
night I kept the candle burning, and often looked from under the
blankets, thinking that maybe I should meet the great Napoleon face to
face; but I saw only furniture, and the horseshoe that was nailed over
the door opposite my bed.

St. Helena has been an island of tragedies--tragedies that have been
lost sight of in wailing over the Corsican. On the second day of my
visit the governor took me by carriage-road through the turns over the
island. At one point of our journey the road, in winding around spurs
and ravines, formed a perfect W within the distance of a few rods. The
roads, though tortuous and steep, were fairly good, and I was struck
with the amount of labor it must have cost to build them. The air on
the heights was cool and bracing. It is said that, since hanging for
trivial offenses went out of fashion, no one has died there, except
from falling over the cliffs in old age, or from being crushed by
stones rolling on them from the steep mountains! Witches at one time
were persistent at St. Helena, as with us in America in the days of
Cotton Mather. At the present day crime is rare in the island. While I
was there, Governor Sterndale, in token of the fact that not one
criminal case had come to court within the year, was presented with a
pair of white gloves by the officers of justice.

Returning from the governor's house to Jamestown, I drove with Mr.
Clark, a countryman of mine, to "Longwood," the home of Napoleon. M.
Morilleau, French consular agent in charge, keeps the place
respectable and the buildings in good repair. His family at Longwood,
consisting of wife and grown daughters, are natives of courtly and
refined manners, and spend