THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 WILLIAM HENRY OILMAN
 
 LETTERS 
 
 WRITTEN HOME 
 
 By WILLIAM HENRY OILMAN 
 
 OF EXETER, NEW HAMPSHIRE 
 
 WHILE ACTING AS SECRETARY TO COMMODORE 
 JOHN C. LONG, COMMANDER OF THE U. S. STEAM 
 FRIGATE MERRIMAC, ON A VOYAGE TO THE 
 SOUTH AMERICAN COAST AND THE ISLANDS OF 
 THE SOUTH PACIFIC, IN THE YEARS 1857-1858 
 
 EXETER, NEW HAMPSHIRE 
 1911
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 As a matter of local interest the contents of this volume 
 may be of some interest to citizens of this town and Ports- 
 mouth. Commodore John C. Long, the commander of the 
 United States Steam Frigate Merrimac, was a native of 
 Portsmouth. 
 
 William H. Oilman, who was the secretary of the Com- 
 modore on the voyage, was a native of Exeter, and was the 
 composer of these letters. The voyage embraces observa- 
 tions of the South American coast; the Islands of the South 
 Pacific, the Sandwich Islands, Panama, Peru and Chili. 
 
 Mr. Oilman's father was a native of Exeter. At maturity 
 he went to Philadelphia and formed a business with John 
 G ardiner. After a term of years he settled in Exeter and 
 established a general merchandise business, in trade and farm. 
 His wife was the daughter of John Gardiner. The family 
 was made up of Nathaniel, John, Frances, Charles, William, 
 Gardiner and Nicholas Gilman; with the exception of one 
 all have passed away. 
 
 Nathaniel G. Perry made a voyage with Commodore Long, 
 as secretary, to the Mediterranean. He was a brother of 
 the late Dr. William G. Perry, of Exeter, and cousin of Wil- 
 liam H. Gilman. 
 
 EXETER, N. H., 1911.
 
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 LETTERS 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 
 December 20, 1857. 
 
 Once more upon the waters, dear sister, once more; again 
 the land has faded away, and the beautiful mountains of 
 Brazil are lost in the sea. Wednesday morning last the Mer- 
 rimac's anchor was lifted from its resting place in the bay of 
 Rio de Janeiro, and after turning gracefully around, our good 
 ship showed her stern to the heated city. I took my position 
 on the little deck in the stern, and could but compare the 
 scene around me with that which a few weeks before I gazed 
 upon so intently when leaving Boston harbor. What was 
 wanting there was present here, and, I may add, what was 
 wanting here was present there. The difference is, that the 
 glories of Rio are due to the God of nature, and are where 
 He left them; while the most of Boston is the work of man. 
 I could but ask myself the question, what would have been 
 the fate of this highly favored spot of earth, if the founders 
 of Boston had laid its foundations here, and they and their 
 children had prosecuted their work with the same vigor? Rio 
 Janeiro has its mountains and its expansive bay, but this is 
 nearly all, that made me wish to pause as the Merrimac went 
 forth to meet the sea. The day we entered this interesting 
 harbor is one that I can never forget. I could recollect it 
 for its excessive heat, if for nothing else. Again and again, 
 I went to the upper deck to feast myself with the views of 
 the mountains clothed with tropical verdure, and again and 
 again was I driven below by the heat. The pitch ran in 
 streams from the seams of the deck, and the sweat almost 
 fell in cascades down my back. (This was delightful scenery, 
 wasn't it? I could feel it without seeing it, which is not com-
 
 6 
 
 mon with most scenery.) After six long, tedious, sea-sick weeks 
 on the ocean, it would have been refreshing to have opened my 
 eyes on a sand bank or a barren rock; but to awake in the 
 morning, and through the mist that hung over the shore, to see 
 the distant hills and mountains, whose summits dwell among 
 the clouds, arise abruptly from the sea, was something more 
 to me than the mere sight of land. A long line of coast, at 
 first scarcely distinguishable from the water, would have an- 
 swered for that purpose. But to the feelings of one who, 
 through tedious days and nights, had been Ocean's victim, it 
 was pleasant to see that not only the limits to her power 
 were approaching, but that they were coming in glory and 
 authority, in the mountain-majesty of the land. As we ap- 
 proached the mouth of the bay, there was a fine opportunity 
 for viewing the distinct mountains, which almost surrounded 
 Rio. First and most obvious stands the Sugar Loaf immedi- 
 ately before us, at the mouth of the bay, on the left, as we 
 entered. Its name well indicates its shape, and there are 
 several others, of a similar outline in this mountainous re- 
 gion. The Sugar Loaf, it is said, has been climbed but by a 
 few individuals, and those American and Portuguese. It 
 seems to be a general rendezvous for American ship captains 
 and naval officers. Among other ship stores, I perceived that 
 old sailors' yarns held a prominent place. Not being in want 
 of such articles, I passed on to the Hotel Pharoux, formerly 
 a noted place in Rio, drank a tumbler of ice water and ate 
 an orange. Unfortunately we were not in the season for 
 oranges, but, as I found on paying the bill, we were in season 
 for high prices, and I believe it lasts the whole year. Lazi- 
 ness and high prices naturally enough go hand in hand. The 
 Brazilians can do so little for themselves, that they ought to 
 appreciate the work of others, and they certainly do. June 
 and July are the best months for the orange here, but I found 
 those of December very grateful. The salt air and water 
 very much increase the appetite and taste for fruits, and the 
 poor stomach that is compelled to do penance at sea is very 
 apt to be surfeited on shore.
 
 My first walk was into the palace square. You would sup- 
 pose, perhaps, that it was beneath the shade of tropical trees 
 or among tropical flowers. No, it was in a broiling sun, 
 among dirty dogs and negroes and sometimes not the most 
 agreeable odors. The square is spacious and there is a fine 
 field for improvement in it. There is a large granite foun- 
 tain there which is constantly surrounded by negroes of both 
 sexes, who carry off the water in small barrels or earthen 
 cisterns on their heads. It is quite surprising to see what 
 strength of head and neck these creatures have. I came to 
 the conclusion that I had got among a stiff necked genera- 
 tion. Everything, large or small, seems to be carried by 
 them on the head. Where they carry their ideas I don't 
 know, but hope their brains are as well balanced as their 
 heads. By their movements and half African, half Portu- 
 guese jabber, I could see that the numerous Dinahs and Sam- 
 bos were enjoying themselves in the regular bantering style 
 of the negro, whether free or enslaved. Their bare feet in- 
 dicated them to be slaves, though I am told that some of 
 the freemen go barefooted to save themselves from being en- 
 listed in the army or National Guard, a large part of which 
 is negro. 
 
 The water is brought into the city from Mts. Corcorado 
 and Tyuca; and after dashing down the mountain sides in 
 the wildest freedom, that is still regulated by law, it is con- 
 ducted along in aqueducts, and is in a few minutes borne off 
 on the heads of slaves. The water works are quite credit- 
 able to the city, but not so extensive as they should be in 
 such a dirty place. The citizens, I should think, were trou- 
 bled with a partial hydrophobia, for instead of letting the 
 water come into the city with the full power of its mountain 
 fall, they break the force by carrying it up another elevation 
 barely high enough to drive it into the second stories. They 
 are afraid of its breaking the pipes, I understood. For the 
 same reason, I suppose, the hogsheads used in watering the 
 streets have the sprinkler (or rather dribbler, I should call 
 it,) close to the bunghole, instead of being near the ground
 
 8 
 
 to scatter it broadcast under the pressure of the falling stream. 
 A good sized watering pot would make much more impres- 
 sion. But I suppose the reaction would be too great for a 
 city, that has been so long dirty, to be suddenly washed, as 
 there would be danger of losing its identity. 
 
 The palace was formerly the residence of the ruling powers. 
 Dom Pedro I, the predecessor to the present Emperor (Dom 
 Pedro II), resided there; but it is now used only on state 
 occasions, I think. There is nothing about it attractive, 
 but its extent. It is a low, flat, dilapidated looking struc- 
 ture, of Portuguese architecture. At its chief entrance are 
 stationed some of the negro soldiers, belonging to the National 
 Guard, and if I had not seen some of them asleep, I should 
 inevitably have come to the conclusion that the negro could 
 play soldier as well as other folks. As I looked at the dingy, 
 yellow color of the palace, in which it sympathizes with the 
 buildings around it, the yellow hue of the dust (and the smells 
 would have looked yellow, I presume, could I have seen them), 
 I bethought myself of the yellow fever, and pushed on to 
 the Rua Direita. This is the Wall street of Rio, and is the 
 only wide one in the city. How strange it is that the south- 
 ern Europeans who came over to settle on this continent, 
 could not have left their narrow streets in Madrid and Lisbon. 
 It would seem that the wide wastes of land and water would 
 have enlarged their notions in this respect, but, if they had 
 left their prejudices behind, they wouldn't have come at all 
 (as the Irishman would say). Prejudices have to be colonized 
 as well as pots and kettles. 
 
 MONDAY, December 21, 1857. 
 
 As I walked along on the intensely heated pavements of 
 the Rua Direita (Rio Janeiro), two or three churches attract- 
 ed me by their style of architecture, which I was rather pleased 
 with. The symbolic cock and cross terminated their steeples 
 at a much humbler height than some of our ecclesiastical
 
 roosters attain to, through their lofty ambition perhaps to tell 
 us what's in the wind. Heaven pointing spires are beauti- 
 fully emblematic, as well as ornamental, so long as they stay 
 with us amidst the crooked and cross roads of earth, but when 
 they seek to go to heaven themselves, I think they travel far 
 beyond their sphere. The day after we arrived was the anni- 
 versary of the Emperor's birth. I saw the Emperor and his 
 spouse in the church in rear of the palace attending mass. 
 He is a much better looking man than most of his subjects; 
 tall, portly and dignified. He has good royal blood in his 
 veins, I believe, from the house of Hapsburgh, etc., but not- 
 withstanding this he is said to be a man of intelligence and 
 humanity, sincerely desirous to promote the welfare of the 
 people. He has a high task before him, to advance the 
 standing of this vast empire among the nations of the earth. 
 Brazil has resources almost without limit, but she wants men. 
 Commerce has here and there dotted the long line of sea 
 coast with her civilizing marts, but their influence has only 
 slightly penetrated the great interior wilderness. But I am 
 before my story. I have spoken of the Emperor, and not of 
 the Empress. They are both large and of light complexion, 
 unlike the people, who are all shaded either by African, Port- 
 uguese, Indian or Moorish darkness, separately or variously 
 mixed. The Emperor's wife has a rotundity of person, and 
 has no pretensions to beauty, I think. Presuming that she 
 is a worthy partner of her husband, what more can I say of 
 her? She has a prominent position, and if possessed of pub- 
 lic virtues, may show them to the world; if not, she will get 
 the credit of being the Emperor's wife, and of manifesting 
 the household virtues to her husband. I would rather draw 
 from the obscurity the Brazilian women and speak of them, 
 if I could; but I can only say of them that they possess one 
 quality, at least, which is exceedingly household in its char- 
 acter, and that is, they are rarely seen in public. I conversed 
 with only three or four, and saw but few. If those unseen 
 are as plain as the ones whom I saw, this may account for 
 their privacy. But I incline to think that a native shyness
 
 10 
 
 and jealousy in the Portuguese character accounts in a great 
 measure. 
 
 The men must go from their doors to attend to their busi- 
 ness, but even they have anything but an out-door look. 
 There is a want of openness of expression about them as they 
 appear in the street, which would lead the stranger to think 
 that they were still at home, and ought to have a door knocker 
 in their hats. The sombre hue of their complexion and dress 
 may help this impression somewhat, but all the colors of the 
 rainbow cannot hide or draw forth the manners that are na- 
 tive to the man. 
 
 I would not judge of the feelings of this people from a very 
 few days' superficial observation. From the little that I saw 
 of them in their homes, and what I heard, I should think 
 there was no want of heartiness in their familiar and private 
 intercourse, when all restraint is laid aside. There is a strong 
 home feeling here undoubtedly. The very places of business 
 of the people seem to be a part of their homes. But a home 
 feeling may be engendered and intensified by jealousy and ex- 
 clusiveness. How much this is the case here, I cannot say. 
 This is a large city, and all city homes must from the force 
 of circumstances have their proper share of exclusiveness, or 
 they would not have the sacred character of homes. The ex- 
 clusiveness that defends that sanctity of home against im- 
 proper intruders, or preserves its propriety from unsuitable 
 influences, is one thing; the exclusiveness that establishes in 
 the bosom of the family itself a jealous suspicion of others 
 and nurses it into a pervading sentiment, is quite another. 
 The one shuts an evil out; the other shuts it in. It turns 
 each house into a petty garrison, taking, as it were, from the 
 state, a portion of its own prerogative of defence, instead of 
 being a safeguard of all the manly and womanly virtues on 
 which the state may rely in time of need, or a nursery from 
 which it may draw the elements of its stability and strength. 
 I would not apply these general observations too closely to 
 the state of things here, so as to detract unjustly from the 
 character of Brazilian homes as they appear in Rio. I had
 
 11 
 
 too hasty a glance for this. But their aspect is not a cheer- 
 ful one externally, and the absence of the fireplace would 
 seem to a New Englander to be in itself enough to account 
 for whatever deficiencies and infirmities there may be within. 
 How they form a family circle I don't know, unless it is done 
 by obtaining a license from the Emperor. 
 
 The Emperor's wife and ladies generally, you see, have 
 broken in upon my walk about Rio; so that I shall have to 
 go back to the church and start again. After seeing the con- 
 secrated wafer transubstantiated, as much as it ever was or 
 ever will be, I presume, in the presence of the Emperor and 
 wife, maid of honor, ministers of state, ambassadors, Em- 
 peror's body guard, and spectators, none of whom were ladies 
 except those belonging to the Emperor's family, I walked a 
 short distance in the Rua Direita, as far as the Rua Ouvidor, 
 which is the principal street in Rio for fancy stores. It is 
 not much wider than one of our broad, generous sidewalks 
 in Exeter. Purchasing seemed so much like being cheated, 
 that I preferred, as a general thing, to be speculated upon 
 only with the eyes. The making of one purchase would seem 
 to involve the necessity of making another, as in making 
 change they give you some eight or ten heavy copper coins, 
 each weighing rather more than two of our old fashioned 
 cents I should think; and there seems to be no relief from 
 them but in further purchases, or engaging the services of a 
 negro's head. Although my sea legs were hardly off, I thought 
 there was no need of such ballast. The only store in the 
 Rua Ouvidor that had any peculiar 'interest was that where 
 I saw a beautiful collection of feather flowers. Rio has quite 
 a reputation abroad for the manufacture of these flowers. 
 And well it may, for no other city has the advantages that 
 she has. The Brazilian forests abound in the bright glories 
 of the feathered and insect creations. But nothing shows the 
 sparsity of the population in this vast empire, better than the 
 difficulty with which birds and insects are procured from the 
 interior. The flower store in the Ouvidor is the principal one 
 in Rio. I saw imitations of many of the tropical flowers, and
 
 12 
 
 was particularly pleased with the white moss-rose, which, 
 although not having the brilliant colors of some of the others, 
 I thought was more worthy of paradise than any of them. 
 The imitation was admirable. The store is kept by an Eng- 
 lish woman, who employs some thirty or forty little Brazil- 
 ian girls, who themselves, in the variety of colors which na- 
 ture had given them, formed a very striking bouquet, I 
 thought. Feather flowers I think have never been fashion- 
 able in the United States. This is somewhat remarkable, as 
 they are very costly. As works of art, they are certainly 
 beautiful, but I never could look at them without thinking 
 how much more beautiful they were under the designing hand 
 of nature, when they had a living beauty indeed, as flowers 
 of the wilderness, and flew from tree to tree, from mountain 
 to valley unseen by man, deriving a higher, lustre from their 
 kindly uses, at once robing and protecting the dwellers of 
 the air, now fluttered with their passions, now smoothed in 
 their repose, gorgeous in sunshine, attractive in cloud, giving 
 a sustaining power to the aerial flight and a new charm to 
 the sweet melody of song. 
 
 Leaving the feather flower store, and taking a look in at a 
 stationer's, where I had been advised to call, to see some 
 beautiful lithograph views of Rio and suburbs from the sur- 
 rounding mountains, I retraced my steps to the landing and 
 returned to the ship. 
 
 This is growing into a pretty long story I see, and as I have 
 not yet finished with my walks in Rio, I will stop here for 
 to-day, and make a short visit to the upper deck to see the 
 sun quench his beams in the dark waters of the sea., and to 
 improve the condition of my sea legs, which I have reason to 
 fear have been somewhat disabled by the recent land visita- 
 tion. 
 
 P. S. Two sharks reported themselves to-day, but, as- 
 certaining from the doctors that there were only eight or ten 
 on the sick list, concluded that the chances were doubtful 
 enough to justify a departure.
 
 13 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERBIMAC, AT SEA, 
 
 THURSDAY, December 24, 1857. 
 
 It will be no easy task to make a sailor out of me. I was 
 so well the first three or four days out of Rio, that I hoped 
 my sea sickness was over with, at least till we were off Cape 
 Horn; but my land worship at Rio may have been so idol- 
 atrous, that Ocean thought it necessary to exact a little more 
 penance. To-day, feeling as if I had received absolution, I 
 will again take a short walk with you in Rio. Jumping 
 ashore at the dirty landing-place, and imagining your nose to 
 have been left behind for a few minutes, we will walk across 
 the public square to the market-place, a very inferior en- 
 closure compared with some of our city market structures. 
 Negroes seem to be stall keepers principally. But the most 
 noticeable feature in it is the great quantity of onions for 
 sale. I should think quite one-half of the place was devoted 
 to this vegetable. I thought at once that some, at least, of 
 the peculiar atmospheric influences of the city were sufficient- 
 ly accounted for in what I saw before me. The compara- 
 tively small space devoted to meat, fish and vegetables, made 
 me think of Falstaff's "but one-half penny's worth of bread 
 to this intolerable deal of sack." I left the market, thinking 
 that I was surrounded by a population of two hundred thou- 
 sand onion eaters, and I cannot say, as we sometimes do after 
 getting free from unpleasant difficulties, that I breathed more 
 freely than before. My observations in Brazilian cookery 
 afterwards led me to see the important place held by onions; 
 and I was still more forcibly reminded of it in conversing 
 with different individuals. Whether this fact has any con- 
 nection with the seclusion of the ladies, I don't know. 
 
 I did not see any of the beautiful tropical flowers for sale 
 at the market places. I may not have visited them at the 
 proper time, but I expected to see a fine display. It may be 
 that the onions are too overpowering for them. There was 
 one attraction, however, which carried the thoughts back over 
 the vast waste of waters. I mean the Baldwin apples from 
 Boston. When I ascertained, however, that they were then
 
 sold for about ten cents, and had been previously for twenty 
 cents apiece, my thoughts immediately returned to Brazil. 
 I was very glad, I confess, to see my old friends well appre- 
 ciated. Their bright, fresh appearance was creditable to the 
 Boston shippers; and they lost nothing in comparison with 
 the orange, banana and other tropical fruits. 
 
 Speaking of flowers, reminds me of a visit to a public garden 
 in the city. It is the only place of the kind, I think, there, 
 but not so interesting as the botanical gardens, which are 
 about eight or nine miles from the city, and distinguished 
 principally for a majestic row or colonnade, it might be called, 
 of palm trees. This tree bears a striking resemblance to the 
 Corinthian column, and I know of nothing in nature more 
 graceful. At the public garden I saw many of the tropical 
 products, including the coffee tree, which is the staple of the 
 country, and many fruits, which we are not familiar with 
 at the North. There were but few flowers. The rhododen- 
 dron, cactus, of which there are several varieties visible in the 
 gardens, and rose were the only familiar ones that I saw. 
 The rose did not seem to me to have as much fragrance as 
 at the North, thought it may have been my fancy, or it may 
 have been out of its season, if, like many of the flowers and 
 fruits, it has its season of peculiar vigor. These sweet gifts 
 cannot always have their prime at the bidding of an eternal 
 summer's sun. Nature will sometimes restore herself, though 
 no winter's vigorous sleep comes to her aid. I was struck, 
 not only with the beauty of the flowers, but also with the 
 rich green and fine outline of the leaves of many of the trees. 
 A great many of the trees are densely covered with numer- 
 ous parasites, the most common of which is the air plant. 
 Such is the moisture of the air, that many of the branches 
 are quite hidden by these. I have two small specimens hang- 
 ing in my room, but I fear that the salt air and Cape Horn 
 chills will be too much for them. They begin already to look 
 a little sea-sick.' As I was about bidding farewell to tree, 
 shrub, flower and parasite, my attention was called to a few 
 negroes who lay asleep in the shade of some benches, with
 
 15 
 
 their shoes off. My friend told me that no one was admitted 
 in the garden without shoes, and that these poor creatures, 
 who were probably slaves, had undoubtedly borrowed the 
 shoes to get them in with and have a nap, throwing them off 
 afterwards as an unusual and troublesome luxury. Old shoes, 
 I think, must be in demand in Rio. A slave who gets a leg- 
 acy of his master's old shoes would certainly have a passport 
 to the freedom of sleeping in the public garden, at least; and 
 I dare say, the freedom of sleep would be much more a "pur- 
 suit of happiness" to him, than the freedom of speech or of 
 limb. No Declaration of Independence or successful revolu- 
 tion can secure to the care-worn sons of liberty an inheri- 
 tance of bodily rest> a freedom of sleep. "Eternal vigilance 
 is the price of liberty;" but bondage has its prerogative in 
 the deep sleep that drops unasked upon the eyelids of the 
 slave. 
 
 When the negroes of Rio are unemployed, they may be 
 seen in all directions barefooted and bareheaded, stretched 
 out asleep under a broiling Brazilian sun. 
 
 The most notable slaves in Rio seem to be the coffee car- 
 riers. Clusters of eight or ten of them may often be seen in 
 the Rua Direita on a slow trot with bags on their heads, 
 sometimes keeping time by humming their rude African dit- 
 ties. They are not so noisy as they were formerly. Many 
 of them are tall and well made. A great many different 
 tribes in Africa are represented by the large negro population, 
 and each one bears on the face the distinctive tattoo mark of 
 his tribe. 
 
 Of the public institutions of the city, I saw but little. 
 There are a few creditable schools, I understood, and hospi- 
 tals that would be honorable to any place. I did not see all 
 the "lions," and don't know that I should be any wiser if I 
 had. I felt more interested in the spectators, and had but 
 little time to observe them. To one who is familiar with the 
 progressive cities of the United States, there is nothing in 
 Rio that is attractive, but much that is repulsive. This, 
 however, cannot be said of some of the suburban parts. Boto
 
 16 
 
 Fogo, about three miles from the city, is the most pleasant of 
 these. Many English and other foreign residents live here, 
 and some of the houses and gardens are arranged on the most 
 liberal scale. The Arabesque style of the buildings, with ver- 
 andas, is quite picturesque. A walk through this interesting 
 district was quite an agreeable contrast to the narrow, dirty 
 streets of the sity. 
 
 My most important excursion out of the city was to Mt. 
 Tijuca. A Frenchman to whom I had a letter of introduc- 
 tion kindly brought me an invitation from the family of 
 his father-in-law to dine with them at their country seat, 
 and pass on to Tijuca in the evening. An omnibus ride 
 of four miles over a good road brought me to the family 
 mansion of one story, situated at the foot of the road 
 that leads up through the valley of Tijuca. I was intro- 
 duced by my friends into a very interesting family of native 
 Brazilians. The house, although of but one story, I found to 
 have spacious dimensions, and an interior worthy of a palace. 
 The long front room that extended the width of the build- 
 ing, with its carpetless floor, and numerous high arched win- 
 dows had more the appearance of a finely finished hall than 
 a private parlor. There was far less furniture than in most 
 of the better residences in the United States, which, with the 
 absence of the fireplace, gave it a cool and airy look, in con- 
 formity with the demands of the climate. I had a cordial 
 greeting from the different members of the family. After the 
 different parts of the house were shown me, including the 
 chapel, I was conducted through the garden, which extended 
 along the base of one of the nearest mountains, and occupied 
 ten or twelve acres. The regular gravelled walks were shaded 
 by fruit trees, among which was the cacao, bearing its rich 
 looking honors. The orange trees were laden with green 
 fruit. One of the most singular looking products of the gar- 
 den was the jack fruit, I think it was called, which I presume 
 is a species of the bread fruit. It seems to grow mostly from 
 the main trunk of the tree, and at a little distance appears to 
 be attached like a large piece of sponge. The fruit is sweet,
 
 17 
 
 but coarse, and is mostly eaten by the slaves. One of the 
 small streams that flows from the mountains supplies the 
 house and garden with cool water, and the aqueducts and 
 fountains are among the most attractive features of the place. 
 But its chief glory to me was its fine, commanding situation. 
 It may be that my long familiarity with salt water had its 
 effect in the exhilaration produced by the scene spread out 
 before me, and its tropical characteristics were not without 
 their influence, perhaps, but as I walked up the slope of this 
 beautiful garden of Anderahy, and stood on its highest ter- 
 race, with the bold mountains that still looked up to Tijuca 
 for a background, and in front, the city with its red-tiled roofs, 
 its extended suburbs, the wide expanse of bay, dotted with 
 islands and ships, and bounded beyond by the eternal hills 
 half-hidden in the clouds, I could but think that the glory of 
 Paradise was there "regained" to the eye at least, if it was 
 still morally "lost" to the hands that were faintly trying to 
 lay hold of its rewards and improve its blessings. From a 
 picture as delightful as this I returned with my friends to the 
 house and sat down to a bountiful table. Three of the family 
 could speak English tolerably well, and one of them had trav- 
 elled extensively in South America and Europe. The con- 
 versation was considerably diverted by the ladies inquiring 
 about the fashion of wearing hoops in the United States, one 
 that has not yet reached Rio, and probably never will, unless 
 the ladies have the streets widened. The Brazilian meats are 
 not equal to ours by any means. There was not quite so 
 much onion in the dishes as I was prepared to find. The 
 cooking, as far as I could judge, was quite good of its kind, 
 but not simple enough. They have too much spicing and 
 compounding for any human stomach. 
 
 As it was late, I wished very much too, that the number of 
 courses might be somewhat abridged, as I was desirous to 
 reach my destination, four or five miles beyond up the moun- 
 tain, before dark. After dinner I was invited to stop through 
 the night and go on the next day; but I respectfully declined, 
 as I wished to return the following morning. My French
 
 18 
 
 friend and his brother-in-law insisted on accompanying me, 
 to return the same evening. So, after I bid the family fare- 
 well, we started off on our mules for the hotel boarding house 
 of Mr. Bennett, an Englishman. The road is well paved about 
 a half of a mile, and can be ascended by carriages farther 
 than this. The ride was full of interest to me, and it would 
 have been much more agreeable to me to walk, as I should 
 have done, had it not been so late in the day. We jumped 
 off our mules and walked a short distance to see where the 
 mountain water of Tijuca is conducted through a long arched 
 passage way into the aqueduct that carries it to the city. Re- 
 mounting, we spurred our sluggish animals on to a turn in 
 the road that opened to our eyes the vast valley below. But 
 it was a shade too dark. The gloom of night was fast setting 
 over city, country and bay, and the bright tropical vegetation 
 that seemed to give a higher lustre to the day, now darken- 
 ing under the shadow, gave a deeper shade to the night. We 
 hurried on, and after losing our way for a short time by turn- 
 ing off at the wrong place, we reached Mr. Bennett's about 
 nine o'clock. Taking leave of my friends, who would return 
 that night, I was received by Mr. Bennett in his plain, hearty, 
 English manner. He keeps a boarding house for Englishmen 
 who have their business in the city, and by omnibus and mule 
 go out to this quiet retreat after the business hours of the 
 day, returning to the city after an early breakfast in the 
 morning. This is English perseverance and English sense, to 
 travel twenty miles a day, although on hard mules and in a 
 heavy omnibus over a rough road, to get pure air and water 
 and a good English supper and breakfast, away from the yel- 
 low fever atmosphere of the pestilent city. It is not to be 
 wondered at that they have a controlling influence in the 
 business of Rio. They are now building a railroad as far up 
 the valley of Tijuca as possible, for their accommodation. I 
 was pleased with the neatness and substantial look of every- 
 thing about this English home, and, had it been convenient, 
 would have passed two or three days there, but I arose next 
 morning with the lark, and, after surveying the mountain
 
 19 
 
 scenery about two hours, breakfasted with Mr. Bennett's 
 friends and returned with them to the city. The summit of 
 Tijuca was too far off to ascend to, unless the whole day were 
 taken for it. The ride down brought me again in view of 
 the scenery that bound my attention the day before. The 
 sun of early morning covered it with its glories, and I will not 
 diminish the effect of a single ray by attempting a description. 
 Besides, my head is still a little uncomfortable, and writing 
 has been a burden to me all day; but I sat down to finish 
 this long story, and fearing that I shall tire you out, must 
 hasten to a close. 
 
 During the fortnight we were in Rio, it either rained or 
 was excessively hot about two-thirds of the time, and there 
 were but three or four days when it was comfortable or pru- 
 dent to be exposed in such an atmosphere. As for the city, 
 I saw enough of it in this short space, and did not regret 
 leaving it. But as we weighed anchor and steamed slowly 
 out of the bay, I confess that there were several places of in- 
 terest in the suburbs and country, that I had no fit oppor- 
 tunity to visit, which made me look back with a somewhat 
 longing eye. Although I could not go back and examine the 
 details of the scene, I had, what was better, the vast pano- 
 rama again spread out around me, and still with the fresh- 
 ness of a new creation. The same magnificent outline was 
 there as before, carved out against the morning sky. But 
 wonders had been wrought by the shifting scenes in the 
 mighty amphitheatre below! Day by day, hour by hour, the 
 mountain forms grew dim, or fair, in changing lights and ele- 
 mental air. Whether standing boldly forth in the clear full 
 light, or confused with hazy vapors, like the mystery of a 
 dream; or hidden by the damp thick mists that drew aside 
 at the approach of the morning sun; or away from mortal 
 gaze holding high converse in the veiling clouds; or looming 
 up in the grandeur of night silent and dark, encircling the 
 city's fires, like a round of giant sentinels, they looked in al- 
 tered moods, ever changing, though still the same, in sun- 
 shine, cloud and storm. As they retreated at our coming
 
 20 
 
 they now followed us in our going forth; and one by one their 
 heads went down in glory beneath the waters of the sea. At 
 last the summits of the Organ Mountains were seen in the dim 
 distance just above the way, sole tenants of the air, their 
 rocky pipes penetrating the sky, as if to mingle the harmonies 
 of earth with the music of the spheres. 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 
 FRIDAY, December 25, 1857. 
 
 This hardly seems like Christmas. Save the customary 
 greetings of the season, and perhaps the more than usual hi- 
 larious laughter among the midshipmen in the steerage, there 
 is but little to indicate the arrival of the great Christian an- 
 niversary on this beautiful Friday. Certainly there are no 
 outward signs of its presence; no frosty air or chilling winds; 
 no late rising or early setting sun; no gloomy ocean with its 
 cold, dark, leaden blue. The air has been as fresh and balmy 
 as a morn in June, and the ocean as genial as the air; his mil- 
 lion clear blue waves reflecting the mild azure of the sky, and 
 raising their white caps to the passing winds. 
 
 Aurora's " rosy light " foresaw the early sun, 
 Whose cheerful beam prolonged the summer's day, 
 And when his lengthened race was run, 
 He left behind his long and lingering ray. 
 
 There are no holidays on board a man-of-war at sea. Every 
 day, whether sacred or profane, brings with it its routine of 
 duties, from the drum beat to quarters at 9 o'clock, to the watch 
 call of the boatswain's mates at 12 in the night. The holiday 
 festivities must find their places amid the sterner exactions of 
 discipline, and this they are very sure to do. They certainly 
 have on this occasion, quite as much as and perhaps a little 
 more than has been agreeable to the commanding officers.
 
 21 
 
 All the messes have had the best dinners that the circum- 
 stances of the case would admit of; and sea circumstances, 
 as far as dinners are concerned, are not apt to be boundless. 
 You can see the end of the rope without a spy glass. In the 
 mess to which I belong, we had a very creditable dinner; one 
 fit for any Christian to eat. As you may be curious to know 
 the bill of fare, I will give it as far as I recollect. The first 
 course was soup, which was to-day, and generally is, very 
 good. When flesh and fish fail, either because there are none, 
 or because there had better be none, you can generally fall 
 back with confidence upon soup. The next was preserved 
 salmon, which was good, and far better than the preserved 
 meats, I think. Next came the solids and substantiate and 
 some of them were very much of this character. As for the 
 chickens, they were decidedly too aerial to belong properly to 
 this course, and were out of place. They would have made 
 excellent stimulators to the appetite under any circumstances, 
 particularly under the impression that there was nothing else 
 to eat. They should have preceded the soup and taken the 
 lead at the dinner, as their legs entitled them to do; but as 
 it was, thinking that we were going all the time from the less 
 to the more substantial, it must be confessed that it made 
 quite a reaction in the emotions. We thought that the cli- 
 max of the dinner was still ahead of us; but when we saw 
 the chickens we were afraid that we had passed it. Our 
 chickens were purchased in Rio, and either sorrow at being 
 hatched in such a place, or too much crowing on getting 
 away, or their sea experience, or all combined, had not been 
 favorable to a rotundity of outline. The other parts of this 
 course consisted of wines, salt beef, beef a la mode, ham, 
 chicken pie, vegetables, etc., etc. Salt beef is, of course, a 
 great stand-by at sea. There is such a thing, however, as 
 standing-by too long. There is reason in all things, but none 
 in expecting salt beef to stand by anybody, when it requires 
 all its resources, and more too, to keep itself. Instead of 
 standing by anybody, under such circumstances, there is 
 danger of its bringing somebody down; and, therefore, it had
 
 22 
 
 better fall itself in season, and get the credit from all sympa- 
 thizing friends of what it might have been under more favor- 
 able auspices. The beef a la mode was preserved beef, taken 
 from the cans, with the addition of a few sliced potatoes. 
 Unless it was the potatoes, I do not know what the "a la 
 mode " referred to in particular. If the reference was to the 
 beef in general, I cannot think that it was very appropriate, 
 as it was not exactly after the manner of beef, having lost 
 most of its original flavor in the preserving cans. Unlike the 
 salt beef, it had been kept a little too much. The preserved 
 beef had been kept to death; and the salt beef, I should 
 judge from the taste and appearance, had been kept to the 
 life. 
 
 You will think, I fear, that we had a very sorry dinner. 
 Not at all; these were only a few varieties to spice the occa- 
 sion with by way of contrast. They had the effect to throw 
 into bold relief the ham, which was very fine, and being of 
 the first quality of the Virginia school, and I presume from 
 one of the "first families," it was not only the centre of all 
 eyes, but of all appetites. The chicken pie was what might be 
 expected from such chickens. I believe the crust did not im- 
 prove their collapsed condition at all, only so long as it con- 
 cealed it. The crust, like the soup, had something reliable 
 about it. You knew where to find it; and that is more than 
 can be said of the chickens. After these came the dessert, 
 mince pies, preserves, nuts, etc. The pies were not quite 
 orthodox in all respects, but they were heartily eaten, and it 
 matters not if they were non-conformists to the New England 
 faith. 
 
 How much better than a good meal is a good appetite. 
 After the cloth was removed the remainder of the afternoon 
 was occupied with toasts, songs and merriment. The health 
 of wives, sweethearts, relations and friends was duly remem- 
 bered. So much for our sea Christmas dinner off the coast 
 of Buenos Ayres. Do not judge it by its slight imperfections. 
 Our appetites overlooked them 'ere charity forgave.
 
 23 
 
 FRIDAY, January 1, 1858. 
 
 I have given my journal the usual holiday freedom, you 
 perceive, and as we are approaching Cape Horn, fearing that 
 it may exact another freedom there, which circumstances may 
 compel me to grant, it becomes me at least to note the waste 
 of time to-day, and wish you and all at home a " happy new 
 year." Our floating, weather-beaten home has presented any- 
 thing but a holiday appearance during the last week. 
 
 Going around Cape Horn is said to be no holiday affair in 
 winter or summer. We have the advantage, however, of the 
 long summer days. It is now almost light enough on deck 
 at 9 o'clock in the night to read clear print. In the winter 
 the sun is visible but a few hours, and it is often necesssary 
 to keep lights through the day. Since leaving Rio, many of 
 the exercises of the ship have been dispensed with, to pre- 
 pare her for the passage around the Horn. She is the largest 
 vessel that has ever appeared in these waters, and it will be 
 quite an epoch in nautical history if she doubles the cape suc- 
 cessfully. Everything possible has been done to ensure the 
 safety and comfort of the ship. The top-gallant masts have 
 been taken down, storm-sails set, guns lashed, the port in 
 front of my little cabin closed and corked, with a great many 
 other demonstrations, that seem to signify breakers ahead. 
 It is somewhat alarming to a landsman to see so many pre- 
 cautions. I begin to realize that Cape Horn is the most dreaded 
 point of all to mariners; and shall be disappointed if we do 
 not have a taste of its dangers. Thus far we have been highly 
 favored. We have not experienced a gale since leaving Boston. 
 Every day from Rio has been pleasant, and the winds generally 
 have been favorable. A merchant ship, with our opportun- 
 ities, would probably have been off the cape at this time. 
 Men-of-war do not run for markets, and spare their canvass 
 a little more. 
 
 But while we look forward with much concern to the great 
 stormy point that terminates the continental barrier between 
 the Atlantic and Pacific, that witnesses the mingling of their 
 floods and the rushing of their winds, we have just passed
 
 24 
 
 the dividing line of an old and new year, which in the eter- 
 nity of time separates the ages that are passed from those 
 that are to come. There seems to be something in sea life 
 which causes us to a certain extent to disregard some of the 
 arbitrary divisions of time. This is more particularly the 
 case with the days and weeks. Where daily duties do not 
 continually call them into mind, we are very apt to forget or 
 lose sight of their names and their numbers. The flight of 
 the hours and half hours is announced by the bell, and there 
 are special functions belonging to them, constantly coming 
 along in a man-of-war, that mark their progress. But there 
 is little to distinguish the days and weeks from those that 
 are gone before or come after. There are none of the thou- 
 sand details which make the irregular, though ever-flowing cur- 
 rent of events, and give to yesterday a light or shadow that 
 does not belong to to-day, and to-day a different experience 
 from that of to-morrow. Rising as it does, above the con- 
 ventional limits of days, weeks, months, we have hardly any- 
 thing to compare time with as it regards them, but the con- 
 stantly recurring changes of the seasons, the succession of 
 light and darkness, and easily lose it in their unvarying uni- 
 formity. 
 
 Far away from the throbbing pulsations of human life, its 
 various interests, its busy trifles, its vast concerns, which 
 either drive the very thought of time away or connect it with 
 convenient and accidental associations, nothing seems to 
 stand between us and the revolving year, but the mighty and 
 unceasing operations of nature, and the changing scenes in 
 the great elemental drama around and above us. Time flows 
 on like the vast watery world around us, whose unseen "bounds 
 shadow forth the eternity whence it came and whither it 
 hastens. Associated as it here is, outside of the few planks 
 that hold us together, with the order and procession of nature; 
 starting, as it were, to begin a new race, with the dayspring 
 on high, following the sun in his course to measure out the 
 day, dwelling with the darkness at night, it has a sublime 
 significance that the human epochs of the world can never
 
 25 
 
 impart; and happy is he, whom that sublimity will inspire 
 with wisdom rather than oppress by awe; who can look forth 
 over these rolling waters as upon the tide of time, and from 
 all the varied lessons that their waves will teach, learn anew 
 the power of moments and escape the wrecks of years. 
 
 SUNDAY, January 3. 
 
 This was like one of our most delightful mornings in May, 
 but has become quite raw and chilly this evening, so that 
 overcoats are quite necessary. Our latitude was nearly 46 
 degrees at 12 o'clock. Although it is summer in this region, 
 it is a Patagonian summer, and has been cold enough for 
 outer garments several days past. We have no fires to gather 
 around, except the galley, which is the general cook stove of 
 the ship, and usually surrounded by steam, smoke and stew- 
 ards or cooks preparing dishes for the different messes, talk- 
 ing the news of the ship and bantering each other, so that we 
 do not get our caloric in an unmixed state. Speaking of news, 
 reminds me of some Boston papers which I saw at Rio, hav- 
 ing a fortnight's later date than our time of sailing. Of course, 
 they were greedily read, and, what is not always confessed at 
 home from their commonness, they were full of news. The 
 ocean has a very poor respect for daily papers. I think the 
 next man who makes a geography would do well to describe 
 it as "an extensive sheet of water where the price currents 
 and the general social and political current of events seldom 
 or never circulate." This would certainly be a very vivid de- 
 scription to an American, and one that he would appreciate 
 fully. I do not think, however, it would do any of our coun- 
 trymen harm to leave their newspapers awhile and read this 
 vast "sheet" which was not "struck off" for a day, but 
 which, while it is "new every morning and fresh every even- 
 ing," was spread out by the Almighty for the study and won- 
 der of ages. Our respectable and ably conducted newspapers 
 are certainly among our choicest blessings, and if, while they
 
 26 
 
 diffuse knowledge through all ranks, they do not sufficiently 
 impress it, or stimulate independent thought, the fault is not 
 with them. Such is our morbid passion for the "news" that, 
 paying no respect to the "olds," we throw aside the paper 
 of to-day, perhaps with an unsatisfied air, while it is yet damp 
 from the press, and then anxiously look forward to the issue 
 of to-morrow. But let any of our restless fellow citizens, who 
 are always asking for news, but never find it, try a six weeks' 
 voyage to Rio, and on arrival pick up an American news- 
 paper a month old, my word for it they will find it full of 
 news, from the editorial leader down to the present state and 
 future prospects of white beans in the market intelligence. 
 
 Outside of the daily life of the ship, its joys, its onward or 
 retarded progress o'er the billows, its stern facts, its amusing 
 fancies, we have a frequent source of news, in the presence or 
 absence of fellow voyagers who occasionally come along to 
 break the everlasting circle of the horizon; now and then in 
 the near or distant spoutings of the whale, unwarily pointing 
 out his course through the trackless sea; in the hungry shark 
 stealthily hanging about our back doors, never having learned 
 probably, that our proper back doors are in front, and that 
 no one is allowed to jump into the cabin windows; in the roll- 
 ing porpoise or sea hog, who has evidently been to sea longer 
 than the shark, as he knows how to distinguish appearances 
 from realities, and hides himself under our bow; and if these 
 fail us, we can fall back on the weather, which, notwithstand- 
 ing its antiquity, is always new, and ever ready to come to 
 the rescue, by entering the breaches made by faltering tongues. 
 
 We certainly have a peculiar right to talk about the weather, 
 as we observe it through day and night, interrogating the 
 heavy cumulus cloud, or the light corus, whence they come 
 or whither they go, or what they bring; examining the bar- 
 ometer and thermometer; measuring the force of the winds 
 and the currents, and taking the temperature or sounding the 
 depths of the sea. Beyond these and some other kindred 
 topics of news, we have nothing to draw upon but the re- 
 sources within ourselves, and those who have none of their
 
 27 
 
 own, are very apt to prey upon those of others, or upon them- 
 selves. 
 
 There is nothing that tests the reserved, self-sustaining 
 power of the individual better than a long voyage at sea. It 
 confirms the wise man in his wisdom, and the fool in his folly. 
 Its monotony will often weary, but it need never degrade, or 
 even depress. Miserable, indeed, will it make that being who 
 ventures out without some individuality of his own to rely up- 
 on, and to answer the new demands of his situation. Out- 
 side of the narrow limits of the frail, tossing bark that holds 
 him, whose few means of simple diversion he may soon ex- 
 haust, there stretches the blue firmament above, and the 
 boundless waters beneath, with whose grandeur his soul 
 will expand or under whose power it will contract. The 
 vastness of creation is around him not merely to be seen, 
 but to be felt. He cannot escape from it; it will explore the 
 hidden places of his breast. And happy is he, who can look 
 out on these infinities with a mind strengthened by the les- 
 sons of their wonderful volumes; who can feel that, while 
 they withdraw him from the dearest objects of his affection, 
 they introduce him more than ever to himself; and still hap- 
 pier if, amid their changing scenes and uncertain vicissitudes, 
 he can connect them with the greater Infinitly beyond, 
 and deeply impressed with his own insignificance, can purify 
 his spirit by the sorrow of repentance in their gloom, or exalt 
 his faith and brighten his hopes in their glory. 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 
 WEDNESDAY, January 6, 1858. 
 
 Our latitude to-day is about 48 degrees. We were off our 
 course last night, and have been more or less for two or three 
 days. We have long, cool days and short nights. We are 
 every day followed by multitudes of birds, and among them
 
 28 
 
 the albatross is first in importance. It is a beautiful bird, 
 bearing a good deal of resemblance to the goose, as it is seen 
 at a distance sitting on the ocean, and may have suggested 
 the song of the wild goose. Some of them measure sixteen 
 or seventeen feet across the wings. Their wings have one 
 more joint than those of most birds. Most of them have 
 pure white breasts with brown, and sometimes spotted backs. 
 Their flight is very graceful, and as they do not flap their 
 wings much, they seem to run along on the waves to meet 
 sufficient resistance to raise them up. It is quite remarkable 
 that these sea birds become sick when caught and placed on 
 the deck of a ship. As this cannot be called seasickness, I 
 suppose it may be called ship fever. If not seasickness in 
 name I presume it must be in reality. Tossing as these birds 
 continually are, on the waves, I do not know why they should 
 not be land sick, as other bipeds who pride themselves on 
 keeping horizontal are very apt to be seasick. They are sick 
 with too little motion, where others are sick with too much. 
 What a world! How circumstances do alter cases, and how 
 different positions affect the conditions of different stom- 
 achs! But we are poor conceited creatures, and, while we 
 make such an ado about getting our sea legs, don't think for 
 a moment that under other relations we should have the same 
 trouble in getting land legs. The albatross undoubtedly has 
 his disgust on shore, as we do ours at sea. How he manages 
 to lay and hatch his egg, is a curious matter. If attended 
 with the usual emotions of seasickness, the discharge of that 
 delicate trust must certainly be performed under circum- 
 stances of no common hardship and peculiar tribulations! 
 Some of the officers have been trying to catch one* of these 
 birds with hook and line, but have not succeeded. 
 
 The delicate little stormy petrel, familiarly known as Mother 
 Carey's chicken, has been with us daily to cheer our tedious 
 voyage. This interesting little creature has a very ethereal 
 look as he flits or almost runs over the waves. They have 
 very much the appearance of swallows, and contrast strangely 
 with the rude waves o'er which they delight to hover. Sailors
 
 29 
 
 regard them as ominous, but I do not see of what, except 
 that their presence indicates generally that they want some- 
 thing to eat and their departure that they have got it. If 
 they are the forerunners of storms, we certainly should have 
 had a stormy passage. But the sailors ought to know more 
 than I do about it, and I will not question their authority. 
 A vein of superstition seems to be necessary to complete the 
 sailor. 
 
 This bird has been quite a puzzle to naturalists, as they are 
 only seen at sea, and the natural question is, where do they 
 hatch? One of the old quartermasters told me that it was a 
 belief among sailors that they laid their eggs under their 
 wings and hatched them there! This is more poetical than 
 true, probably like many other conclusions of sailors. Noth- 
 ing is more attractive at sea than the sight of these gentle 
 wanderers, whose restless flight o'er the sea seems to subdue 
 and soften in some measure the effect of its lonely grandeur, 
 as well as recall our minds to summer field and "skimming 
 swallows." 
 
 My hands are so numb, that I write with difficulty in this 
 chilly air. 
 
 SATURDAY, January 9. 
 
 Our latitude is 54 degrees. We are now going by steam, 
 which was applied to the propeller on Thursday. We were 
 off against the Falkland Isles, Thursday night, but not in 
 sight of them. This morning before 5 o'clock I was called 
 by the officer of the deck to go up and see the land. Of 
 course I could not have obeyed an order with more alacrity, 
 and turning out of my berth, I ascended to the bridge over 
 the quarter deck, and saw far ahead the snow capped-sum- 
 mits of the mountains of Terra del Fuego glittering in the 
 sunlight of one of those clear frosty mornings that seem to 
 crystallize the very air. The green hills around Rio seen 
 through the tremulous air of a tropical summer were hardly
 
 30 
 
 more agreeable to the eyes, than this long chain of rounded 
 tops, white with eternal snow. A real Sierra Nevada, and 
 this in Terra del Fuego, the Land of Fire. The long mass of 
 fleecy cloud, tinted with the yellow sunlight that moved in 
 grand procession above their heads, and the bluish green wa- 
 ter below, contrasted finely with the deep, glistening snow. 
 The clouds had all the softness of summer; on the mountain 
 tops there was unmistakable winter: while the air had the 
 balmy coolness of spring. The water was very calm, and our 
 noble ship marked out a track which was visible as far as the 
 eye could reach. One of the large charts which we have 
 shows a very great indenture east of Terra del Fuego, and 
 north of Staten Island, formed by the curve of the southern 
 point of the continent, which, with the Falkland, Islands to 
 the northeast, makes this part of the ocean a good deal land- 
 locked, and in calm weather it is nearly as placid as a large 
 bay. 
 
 After breakfast I returned to the upper deck, and found the 
 water calmer than before, as quiet as a mountain lake, and 
 sparkling as if every ray of light that fell upon it was reflected 
 from a gem. The snowy mountain tops were fast retreat- 
 ing to the west, and the dark rock lowlands, which would 
 be called mountains by themselves, were in full view. Im- 
 mediately before us were the Straits of Le Maire, for which 
 we were steering. About fifteen miles off, east of the straits 
 was Staten Land, a long rocky island, whose rough, ragged, 
 angular mountains looked as if they had sustained an ele- 
 mental war through the long line of ages. As we approached 
 the land on the Terra del Fuego side, we could see distinctly 
 some signs of vegetation in the low, scrubby looking bushes, 
 that roughened the outlines which were so sharp in the dis- 
 tance. Here and there was a green spot which appeared 
 through the glass to be coarse grass or stunted shrubs, show- 
 ing that summer had shed her gentle influences even in this 
 forsaken region. 
 
 A species of wild duck, and flocks of that strange compound 
 of bird and fish, the penguin, that fluttered through the water
 
 31 
 
 with their little wings or fins, astonished to see such a mon- 
 ster invade their wild, watery home, were the only or chief 
 indications of animal life to be seen. As we approached the 
 straits, the volcanic character of the rocks was very percep- 
 tible. Their seams, rents, scars and fissures were clear to 
 the eye. The fires of earth here spent their rage, and left 
 this volcanic ruin and rocky desolation. About one o'clock 
 we passed through the straits, which are about twelve miles 
 wide, being driven by a fresh north breeze, that came along 
 to the aid of our steam at the rate of ten miles an hour. We 
 were now fairly out in the great southern ocean whose winds 
 encircle the globe. Cape Horn was about ninety miles from 
 the straits, which distance is somewhat reduced now, as I 
 write, but our course is so southerly, that we shall go far 
 away from it. Mere curiosity would prompt a desire to see 
 this much dreaded point, but we have seen several other 
 rocky capes that will answer quite as well. The general ten- 
 dency of public opinion in these parts is to get away from it 
 as fast and as far as possible. Our old geography school- 
 boy ideas would perhaps lead us to think that the great South 
 American continent here came to a sharp angular point, and 
 that there was great danger of vessels being cut in two, if 
 they came very near it! But, like many other points, the 
 difficulty lies more in disposing of the circumstances around 
 it than in the point itself. In other words, it is surrounded 
 by doubts and perplexities, and given over to wind. You 
 have probably seen some individuals in the same predica- 
 ment. The more some things are reduced to a point, the 
 more they spread themselves; and all over the ocean here, 
 from the Falkland Islands in the Atlantic to the fiftieth de- 
 gree of latitude in the Pacific, one is very apt to hear and 
 breathe nothing but Cape Horn gas! I would not speak dis- 
 respectfully of it behind its back, and therefore I deliver my 
 sentiments right in its face! I don't know why it should have 
 the credit of raising all this wind, when it is only one of a 
 thousand volcanic islands into which the southern part of 
 Patagonia is broken. It comes by its "bad eminence" from
 
 32 
 
 being a little farther south than the main cluster, but there are 
 a few islands, more removed, still south of it. It was named, 
 if I recollect aright, after a town in Holland. Holland should 
 have the honor of naming it, I think, as it would be a fine 
 place for a windmill. 
 
 After getting through the straits there was a change in the 
 temperature, from the bright, beautiful morn to this cold, 
 raw evening, I cannot call it night. Although about 10 
 o'clock, it is nearly light enough to read on the upper deck. 
 Our passage has been a very favored one thus far, but we have 
 all the difficult part of the field to go over yet. I did not ex- 
 pect to find myself writing down here, and shall not take up 
 the quill again till we get higher up into more genial lati- 
 tudes. We may have the fate of many other vessels, and be 
 detained here several days, or driven farther south. It is 
 considered necessary by most navigators, to go west as far 
 as the eightieth degree of longitude in order to take advan- 
 tage of the winds and avoid the danger of a lee shore. But 
 I doubt if our enterprising Yankee clipper ships always re- 
 gard this. If they did, they never would have made the quick 
 passages that have distinguished them. 
 
 I sit writing here bundled up in an overcoat, and with a 
 hand too cold to write further. 
 
 WEDNESDAY, January 20. 
 
 Gape Horn and all its terrors are now far behind us, and 
 it has become mild enough to write with comfort. ~ If I were 
 to judge of most cruises around this point by ours, I should 
 doubtless do the cape great injustice. I was a good deal dis- 
 appointed in the reception it gave us, after all our prepara- 
 tion to meet its attentions. Our formidable appearance may 
 have induced it to give us a wide berth, or perhaps it had 
 spent all its wind on some one else. Our passage is called by 
 the wise ones a very remarkable one. For a week after I
 
 COMMODORE JOHN C. LONG
 
 33 
 
 last wrote the weather was cold and disagreeable. We had 
 hail and rain nearly every day, and although the winds were 
 not always propitious, they were never violent. It was im- 
 possible to keep comfortable except by going to bed, and the 
 long daylight seemed to disagree with that. Saturday night, 
 January 16, when we were near latitude 50 degrees and longi- 
 tude 83 degrees, we had what I thought was worthy of being 
 called a gale, but it hardly had that reputation in the ship. 
 How much it takes to make a gale I have not yet ascertained. 
 I am inclined to think, however, that with sailors they are 
 somewhat affected by time, and blow a little harder in the 
 past than they get credit for in the present. Whether this 
 was a gale or not, the scenery outside the ship was quite 
 mountainous, and our large proportions must have been con- 
 siderably diminished to the eye as we were tossed about like 
 a chip on the sea. We were under steam, and as we could 
 not well set our mainsail on account of the smoke stack, we 
 were rolled about in all directions. We had got so far from 
 the cape that we did not use as much care as was necessary 
 in our mess room below, and the rolling of the ship very soon 
 made known to us what was not securely fastened. Before 
 I arose from my berth, or rather rolled out of it, I heard such 
 a tumbling of chairs and tables, and such a smashing of 
 crockery that I expected to find nothing whole when I went 
 down to breakfast. 
 
 On entering the ward room I was told that the mess table 
 had been lifted by the spirits without, and one end of it car- 
 ried with divers loud raps into the room of the second lieu- 
 tenant. The surgeon, on seeing the said lieutenant crawling 
 out over this "wreck of matter" with a good deal of gravity, 
 peeped out of his state-room and inquired if the table was 
 hurt! After order was in some measure restored, an attempt 
 was made to eat breakfast, but it was nearly fruitless. The 
 table was made fast, sand bags stretched across it, and chairs 
 lashed, but our breakfast flew away in all directions. You 
 would have been amused if you could have looked in upon 
 us and witnessed our attempts to balance ourselves on our
 
 34 
 
 chairs or feet, and at the same time to keep our coffee cups 
 horizontal. Some of us found our level on the floor, and the 
 table cloth drank up no small portion of our coffee; while 
 the bread and vegetables amused themselves by chasing each 
 other off the table. Notwithstanding a good deal of our 
 breakfast had taken wings, it seemed to be impossible to re- 
 sist the impulse to laughter. Our worthy chaplain looked 
 very much as if he was deeply impressed with the instability 
 of all earthly possessions in general and of the breakfast be- 
 fore him in particular. It was Sunday, and in the absence 
 of the usual services, we had a very good practical sermon 
 all around us on the vanity of human wishes, and the un- 
 certainty of always getting a breakfast when we expect it. 
 The heavy sea nauseated me somewhat, but the laughable 
 incidents below seemed to have a buoyant effect. The break- 
 ing of the crockery, however, had nothing very laughable 
 about it, as we shall probably ascertain when the next mess 
 bill is to be paid. The ship rolled so much that it was im- 
 possible to walk the decks without the aid of a rope. I went 
 on the spar deck in the afternoon and saw the grandest sea 
 that I ever witnessed. It was sublimity, however, a little 
 too near. We are not exactly in a condition to admire the 
 power, where we so plainly feel its supremacy. 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 
 SATURDAY, January 23, 1858. 
 
 The weather has been delightfully mild the past few days, 
 and we are rapidly approaching the bay of Concepcion, where 
 we are to put in to refit the ship. This morning we are about 
 one hundred and eighty miles from Talcahuano, and shall 
 anchor there to-morrow without much doubt. Talcahuano 
 is the seaport of Concepcion, which is the chief town of one 
 of the southern districts of Chili of that name. Concepcion
 
 35 
 
 is a little in the interior, about nine or ten miles from Talca- 
 huano. Old Concepcion was situated on the bay not far 
 from Talcahuano, and entirely destroyed by the last great 
 earthquake in Chili, of 1836. Talcahuano is a small place 
 that derives its importance principally from being one of the 
 few places in the Pacific where our American whale ships re- 
 fit. Not far to the south of it is the country of the celebrated 
 Araucanian Indians, whom the Spaniards never could con- 
 quer. 
 
 TALCAHUANO, CHILI, 
 WEDNESDAY, January 27. 
 
 Last Sunday morning we made the first land on the Pacific 
 coast, and about two o'clock entered this large bay of Con- 
 cepcion, dropping our anchor two or three hours after, some 
 two miles from this little, low, one-story town of Talcahuano. 
 All that is attractive here is the bay, which is a fine sheet of 
 water, completely surrounded by hills of moderate elevation; 
 and, I ought to add, the climate. This is the Chilian sum- 
 mer, and everything is dried up. Hardly a green spot is 
 visible throughout the whole amphitheatre of hills that sur- 
 round the bay. The year is pretty equally divided here into 
 summer and winter, the dry and wet seasons. The temper- 
 ature is very pleasant. The heat of the day, which has not 
 been excessive thus far, is tempered by the cool southerly 
 winds, which blow almost constantly at this season. The 
 nights are damp and cool. This little town is rendered quite 
 agreeable by the few Americans who reside and do business 
 here, as well as by the captains of the American whale ships. 
 I would almost beg to be excused from a description of the 
 place, fearing that I might do it injustice. If it is a repre- 
 sentative of other Spanish towns of South America, and I am 
 told it is, I think that I shall not devote much ink and paper
 
 36 
 
 to them. The natives appear to be a polite, harmless people, 
 who have not quite caught up with the "times," according 
 to the North American clock, but manifest the best disposi- 
 tion, if the "times" will only not be in such a hurry. Rail- 
 roads, telegraphs and steamboats are exceedingly scarce; 
 and the wooden trucks, which answer for wheels on their 
 boyish looking ox-carts, only supply one of the uses of the 
 locomotive, in the hideous noise which their unlubricated 
 axles continually send out. The best of the private resi- 
 dences here have no attractiveness about them. The earth- 
 quakes compel the people to be satisfied with one story, and 
 even that they do not care to adorn. Whatever of flower 
 and shrub there may be is enclosed by the walls of the houses. 
 The streets are without trees, to temper the dazzling sunlight 
 reflected from the whitewashed walls. The lodgings of the 
 poor are made of sticks interlaced, plastered with mud, and 
 with thatched roofs. 
 
 Why should I say poor, for I observed that the more lowly 
 the hovel is, the more it is blessed with children. The na- 
 tives are nearly all strongly marked with the Indian features. 
 Most of them have hardly Spanish blood enough to swear by. 
 There are a few families of Spanish extraction here, and they 
 are certainly, so far as one can judge who has but a slight 
 knowledge of their language, quite intelligent, and very agree- 
 able people. We are not in the best season for fruit. The 
 strawberries, which are very large, are gone, and the grapes 
 not yet come. There are plums here which are not so good 
 as our best, and pears that are only ordinary. The climate 
 is an admirable one for pears and apples, but no attention 
 is paid to introducing the best varieties. What they have 
 are shaken from the trees and brought to market in a bruised 
 state. All the fruits of the temperate zone, and many of the 
 tropical, would flourish under this favorable clime, but they 
 find no encouragement from the indolent people. The earth- 
 quakes seem to have shaken all energy out of them, if they 
 ever had any. The fleas are the only things that display any 
 activity about them!
 
 37 
 
 FRIDAY, February 5. 
 
 We are still in Concepcion bay off Talcahuano; but, having 
 finished cleaning and painting the ship, we have cast anchor 
 a little nearer town. Yesterday, we were visited by a large 
 company of people from Concepcion and Talcahuano, who 
 have been impatient to see the ship. More than one-half of 
 them .were ladies, and some of them quite attractive. The 
 Chilian ladies are certainly far ahead of the Brazilian in 
 beauty. Of course there was a hop, which consumed the 
 greater part of the day. Our fair visitors seemed to enjoy 
 the occasion much and took a very early and reluctant de- 
 parture. Last week I went with three of my messmates to 
 Concepcion, in a Concord coach, which, while it carried us 
 to Concepcion, carried me back over a much more interesting 
 road, that conducted me through the pleasant memories of 
 the past. There was nothing very noteworthy to be seen on 
 our route. The road, which the selectmen of these parts have 
 probably not inspected since it was laid out (if it ever was 
 laid out) and which would soon ruin anything but a Concord 
 coach, passes over an alluvial district, which, I was informed, 
 was covered with water after the last great earthquake of 
 1836. Hardly a green spot was visible, and only an occa- 
 sional tree. I saw a few of the wild flowers that we see in 
 New England in the latter part of summer, among others, 
 the wild aster. The principal objects of interest were scat- 
 tered along the road, the mud cottages full of a dense popu- 
 lation of Indian looking natives, and I dare say a complete 
 assortment of fleas; dark looking Chilanos dashing by on gal- 
 loping horses (they seem to have no trotting ones); little, 
 low carts, which, like the houses, seem to be of the one-story 
 kind, but not at all deficient in the quality of noise, all of 
 which, together with some costume peculiarities, certainly 
 presented some novelty. Of Concepcion itself, there is but 
 little to be said. With the exception of a few public build- 
 ings, it seemed to be only a little larger edition of Talcahuano. 
 
 It being summer, many of the more favored class were in 
 the country, we were told. Had we taken letters and been
 
 38 
 
 familiar with the language of the country, we could have 
 doubtless been better pleased, but a more monotonous, un- 
 interesting place, so far as appearance goes, I never wish to 
 see. Almost the only thing that looks like vegetation is in 
 what is called the Alameda, which consists of two walks 
 shaded by Lombardy poplars. Can you conceive of a Lom- 
 bardy poplar being attractive anywhere? I thought it was 
 impossible till I went to Concepcion. Such is the dearth of 
 greenness there, that this tree really has a contrasted beauty. 
 If comparisons are generally odious, contrasts are certainly, 
 sometimes, delightful. We walked through the Alameda sev- 
 eral times without meeting anyone but a Catholic priest in 
 black gown and shovel hat, whose appearance rather added 
 to the desolate silence that reigned around. We passed the 
 night at one of the hotels, and being strangers, furnished a 
 fresh bite for the fleas. They certainly improved their op- 
 portunity, and made altogether the strongest impressions that 
 we the next morning carried away from Concepcion. 
 
 VALPARAISO, SATURDAY EVE., February. 
 
 Last Tuesday morning we left the bay of Concepcion with 
 a fair south wind and anchored before this place Wednesday 
 afternoon. I hoped to have a view of the Andes as we ap- 
 proached the land, but the air was not clear. Outside of the 
 harbor we returned the salute of a Chilian brig-of-war; and 
 before we reached the bay we were saluted by the English, 
 French and Chilian men-of-war at anchor in the harbor as 
 soon as they made out our colors, so that we had to postpone 
 an answer to some of them till we had moored our ship, 
 which required a good deal of care, from the great depth of 
 water, the number of vessels around us, and limited extent 
 of the harbor. Valparaiso is not fortunate in its harbor. It 
 is not well land-locked and very much exposed to the north 
 winds, which in the winter sometimes blow with great se- 
 verity. 
 
 As our arrival had been expected for several days and anx-
 
 39 
 
 iously awaited, the nearest shore was crowded with specta- 
 tors to see the largest vessel that had ever visited 'the place. 
 The city presents a very good appearance from the bay, as- 
 cending, as it does, from the water's edge up the surrounding 
 hills. There is an almost entire absence of vegetation, how- 
 ever, to relieve the eyes and soften the scenery. The deep 
 red soil is enough to give one the impression that it is sun- 
 burnt clay. A hasty visit on shore is all that I have had time 
 to make, but it was an agreeable one. The style of architec- 
 ture resembles that of Rio, but the streets are much wider 
 and cleaner. The city has improyed very much the last ten 
 years, and is still progressing. Here, as elsewhere in South 
 America, English and American energy are the chief motive 
 powers. Of three portraits in the reading room of the Ex- 
 change, one is that of a native of Newburyport, Mass., Wil- 
 liam Wheelwright, a son of old Eben. Wheelwright, I think. 
 Mr. Wheelwright was the proprietor of the line of steamers 
 to Panama from this place, of a railroad farther north, from 
 one of the seaports to the principal mining district, and of 
 one from this city to Santiago, only partially constructed. 
 
 I am cut short off here by some necessary demands on my 
 time. If I can have an opportunity to become more ac- 
 quainted with this place, I will extend this glimpse a little in 
 my next. 
 
 U. S. STEAM FRIGATE MEKEIMAC, AT SEA, 
 
 April 4, 1858. 
 
 BURIAL MOUNDS IN PERU. 
 
 These old burial mounds or "huacas," as they are called in 
 Peruvian, are very large and numerous. From those that re- 
 main in the best state of preservation, they appear to have 
 been built up in terraces, and one that we saw must be from 
 four to five hundred feet long by two hundred broad. They 
 are constructed of loose clay with adobe brick, and in some
 
 40 
 
 cases terraced with large square blocks of clay, moulded with 
 cobble stones. Their height is about two hundred feet. Of 
 course they could never have been so well preserved in any 
 but a rainless country, like Peru. Around the burial mounds 
 there is a large area more or less covered with the remains of 
 walls built of the same moulded square blocks of clay and 
 stones, and indicating what seemed to be streets, although, 
 from their unbroken surface in some instances, I was at a 
 loss to know how they could have been thoroughfares in a 
 large community. It seemed much more probable that they 
 were roads leading to and from the mounds. We wanted very 
 much the services of a trustworthy antiquarian, but I could 
 not hear of such a remnant of the past, and I doubt if Peru 
 furnishes such a class of living fossils, notwithstanding its 
 climate is so admirably adapted to drying up. There was 
 nothing to speak to us but the towering graves themselves, 
 where thousands upon thousands literally are buried, where 
 Indian clay for unknown ages found its kindred earth; no 
 monumental stone or rude inscription to speak to us of these 
 dead "children of the Sun," lying beneath us in silence and 
 dusty oblivion, while the great luminary, to which the ador- 
 ing eyes of so many generations of them had been turned, 
 still careered along the heavens in glory and power, and as 
 we felt the full force of his noontide beam, I could but think 
 that that beneficent goodness of his rays, which the living so 
 long reverenced, was still continued with preserving and al- 
 most embalming care over the clayey sepulchres of his now 
 silent worshippers. 
 
 The road to the mounds took us through only one green 
 spot, which was covered with bushes and a coarse gfass. Of 
 course there was no lack of dust. In some places it was near- 
 ly over our shoes. Much of our way was through the paths 
 marked out by the walls, before alluded to, and with their 
 bare surfaces on both sides, as well as the light dust beneath 
 us, to reflect the heat, we had the full effect of the direct and 
 reflected rays of the unclouded sun. After reaching the 
 ground our guide was of no further use to us. He knew no
 
 41 
 
 more of the mounds than the dead themselves. We had 
 heard in Callao that some of the huacas were being exca- 
 vated, but after wandering through them and over them for 
 an hour or two, we were unable to find the excavators, so we 
 ascended one which we saw in the distance, where a mud hut 
 was visible, to procure a digger, if possible. Arriving at the 
 summit, we found two or three of the hybrid natives with 
 their mules, and obtained about as much information from 
 them, regarding the graves on which they were living with 
 all possible unconcern, as we previously had from our negro 
 guide. They were ready, however, to dig for us, and told us 
 that we might as well dig there as anywhere, which indicated 
 that they were about as lazy as ignorant. After one of them 
 dug in the intensely heated and compact clay for some time, 
 a talkative, barefooted negro came up, and seemed by his 
 manner and language to be very wise in regard to what we 
 wanted to ascertain. We soon discovered, however, that he 
 was a poor crazy black; but, as he seemed willing, we set him 
 to digging, which he did with more zeal than discretion, as he 
 stirred up the dry bones with his shovel. His garrulity re- 
 minded us of the grave digger in Hamlet, without his wis- 
 dom. We found a few skulls and bones near the surface, to- 
 gether with several articles of domestic use made of clay. 
 The appearance of the skulls led us to doubt their genuine- 
 ness as Peruvian, and the earthen vessels, which were of very 
 common workmanship, were more or less broken by the jab- 
 bering negro in digging. Our desire was to procure some of 
 these, if we could find any worth having, bearing the genuine 
 stamp of antiquity. Those remains which we dug out were 
 undoubtedly very old, but there were traces that reminded 
 us of the conquest of Peru as it is, rather than Peru as it was. 
 The bones were all well preserved in the dry earth, and in 
 some instances the skin with the hair was still loosely adher- 
 ing to the skulls. A coarse cotton or linen cloth in a decayed 
 state was found around some of the bones. The bodies seem 
 to have been deposited very near together, with nothing but 
 the coarse wrapper and a little earth to keep them distinct.
 
 42 
 
 As our researches did not seem likely to develop anything of 
 special interest, we gave the Peruvian, who appeared to be 
 the proprietor of the hut, a compensation for his services, 
 leaving him to pay the diggers, and departed with our boys, 
 who came with us from the ship to carry the water and pro- 
 visions, and lazy guide, who probably never dreamed of such 
 a day's work before. We still had half of the day before us, 
 and spent two or three hours in walking over several others 
 of these immense mounds, and hired another man and boy 
 to make some further researches with the shovel, but we could 
 find nothing worth bringing away. It was evident that the 
 tops of most of these artificial hills had been dug over more 
 or less, and that the better way to examine internally, would 
 be to dig into their sides, but we had no time for this, and 
 came away without any of their relics, but abundantly satis- 
 fied in having seen these vast gathering places of the dead, 
 the mountain cemeteries of Peru. 
 
 We estimated that we walked during the day quite twenty 
 miles, and as we were exposed to the hot sun and were 
 obliged almost to wade in the dust through a part of the route, 
 you can imagine that we gladly planted our feet again on the 
 quarter deck of the Merrimac at half-past ten o'clock. Sev- 
 eral of the officers came up to receive us, expecting to see us 
 bearing a dead Inca along on our shoulders. We thought we 
 were fortunate enough in bringing ourselves back. We had 
 been advised to take revolvers along with us, which we did, 
 but had no occasion to use them; and fortunate it was that 
 we had not, as we found on trial that most of them would 
 not discharge till the caps were better fitted. 
 
 A few years since a party of naval officers, who -made an 
 excursion into the country, were robbed of everything, and 
 came back to Callao in their shirts! It was either very con- 
 siderate in the robbers to let the poor fellows keep their 
 shirts, or else they knew nothing about such a garment, and 
 consequently it had no appreciable value with them. I in- 
 cline to think the latter was the fact, judging from appear- 
 ances here. If they do not appreciate shirts, they appreciate
 
 43 
 
 washing them for those who are in the habit of wearing them, 
 as they charge three dollars a dozen! It is keeping clean that 
 is appreciated here, not cleanliness. 
 
 There are many other burial mounds in Peru. Those at a 
 place called Truxillo (Truheel-yo) further up the coast are 
 said to be among the most important. Valuable treasure, it 
 is said, has been taken from them. But the place of chief 
 interest is Cuzco, some four or five hundred miles southeast 
 of Lima, where the Incas resided, and where there are still 
 some remains of the old "Temple of the Sun." There is no 
 such thing as travelling in Peru, except over mule paths, and 
 there is but little intercourse between the different places, ex- 
 cept what is made necessary by traffic in the means of living. 
 I hoped to find someone in Lima who had visited the old 
 city of Cuzco, but my stay there was so short, that I had no 
 time to devote to other places. The old ruins at Cuzco con- 
 sist principally of massive stones, I believe, which indicate a 
 knowledge of the mechanical powers, which their descendants 
 certainly do not possess. It is quite as much as the moderns 
 can do, to move themselves. Earthquakes, fleas and jack- 
 asses seem to be the great moving spirits of the age in these 
 parts. There is nothing like a due combination of the sub- 
 lime and ridiculous to produce an effect, and these controlling 
 powers in Peru have marked the country all over with their 
 tracks. 
 
 U. S. STEAM FRIGATE MERBIMAC, AT SEA, 
 
 April 7th, 1858. 
 
 LIMA PIZARRO'S BRIDGE. 
 
 We still go along slowly with a light breeze that blows di- 
 rectly from behind, which makes the ship feel the rolling 
 swells. The weather is delightful, and the air much drier
 
 44 
 
 than at Callao, where, notwithstanding it never rains, there 
 seems to be perpetual moisture. The climate seems to be 
 one of contradictions. In the winter nature deals out her 
 moisture in the shape of dense and drizzling fogs. These 
 commenced while we were there, and prevailed nearly every 
 day in the morning or afternoon. It is rather hard for a 
 North American to conceive of an inhabited country where 
 it never rains, and where umbrellas are never lost! The ship 
 is still quite damp from the effects of the moist air of Callao. 
 Our clothes, boots and shoes are covered with mould, which 
 the dry air of Paytas, a small place in North Peru, that we 
 are now approaching, will counteract, I trust, as well as im- 
 prove the health of the ship, which suffered considerably at 
 Callao, where we buried one of our men. 
 
 The first week that we lay at Callao, I did not visit Lima, 
 thinking it better to defer it until sometime in "passion week," 
 so that I could see the churches favorably, besides which there 
 is but little in the way of "sights." I regretted afterwards 
 that I did not go earlier, to make a few hasty observations, 
 and then, before going away take sufficient time to enlarge 
 them. I was there a day and two nights, going up Wednesday 
 evening before Holy Thursday, and returning on the morn- 
 ing of Good Friday. This I found quite long enough, partic- 
 ularly as I felt indisposed through heat, sleepless nights at 
 the hotel, or other causes; and, after visiting the prominent 
 churches, and one or two other places of interest, I felt as 
 if Lima had done me, whether I had "done" Lima or not. 
 I can give you, therefore, but a most meagre sketch of the 
 old royal city of Lima, or "city of the kings," as it was for- 
 merly called, before the revolution, and the "city of the free," 
 after it. Names are very pretty things sometimes, but Lima, 
 as well as the rest of unhappy Peru, knew quite as much about 
 substantial freedom, under the rule of the viceroys of Spain, 
 as now, under a nominally Republican form of government. 
 The country has been in what is called a revolutionary state 
 so often that settled peace seems to be the exception and not 
 the rule. The contending forces at present are led by Cas-
 
 45 
 
 tilla (Casteelya), the President, who drove his predecessor 
 from the chair of state, and Vivanco, the leader of the revo- 
 lutionary forces. The latter has within a few days been de- 
 feated at Arequipa. It would hardly be worth the ink and 
 paper to give the details of these selfish quarrels, which have 
 so long cursed this wretched country. The poor, ignorant, 
 common people are impressed into the service of some dis- 
 appointed man, some general or governor, perhaps, from the 
 numerous and ruinous army of officials, and made to fight 
 for somebody, they know not and care not whom, who wishes 
 to reward himself first and then his friends. Such are what 
 are called the revolutions of Peru; mere robberies, or in other 
 words, a fight for the Guano Islands, the great source of rev- 
 enue of the country. 
 
 The public money, instead of being legitimately spent for 
 useful, national purposes, is stolen from the treasury by the 
 higher officers, or exhausted by a worthless army of vaga- 
 bonds. Such things as a constitution and laws hardly have 
 an existence, so far as I could ascertain, except such ones as 
 a successful President may dictate. So much for the govern- 
 ment of Peru. She has about as much politics, so far as I 
 could hear, as a highwayman. It is take on one side and 
 give on the other, while the priests look on to see that it is 
 all done in "decency and in order." I do not much wonder 
 that Providence withholds rain from such a country. 
 
 There is but little in Lima to attract a stranger, except 
 what is associated with the old Spaniards. The city is situ- 
 ated on both sides of the river Rimac, which is quite a moun- 
 tain torrent of muddy snow-water when swollen, but ordin- 
 arily quite an insignificant stream. It runs through an am- 
 phitheatre of hills that surrounds the city to some extent, 
 but the mountains were so enveloped hi fog that I could 
 hardly see their exact bearing. The city was founded by 
 Pizarro, some three hundred and twenty years ago, and he 
 has left behind him a few monuments of his energy and sa- 
 gacity which, perhaps, with some, would help to redeem his 
 fame, but deeds of cruelty and treachery, like those which
 
 46 
 
 history records against him, can hardly be atoned for by 
 earth-erected monuments. The bridge that spans the Rimac 
 is perhaps the most enduring, if not the most memorable of 
 these. It has but little of the elaborate finish of architec- 
 ture to attract the eye. Its chief glory is its six strong arch- 
 es, with the solid masonry around them, and stone parapets 
 above, over which you look down into the river, divided into 
 three or four muddy mountain streams. As I lingered on 
 the bridge, leaning on the parapet of stone, made smooth by 
 the wear of years, it was interesting to watch the numerous 
 passers, and the sauntering idlers. It was Holy Thursday 
 morning (in the calendar, at least, if not in Lima), and there 
 were the early devotees, in black gowns and with the black 
 manto thrown over the head; the swarthy, broad featured In- 
 dians going to and from market, with summer hats on, the 
 usual bonnet of the women; the numerous half and quarter 
 breeds, reconciling in harmonious blendings Spanish, Indian 
 and African differences without any sort of trouble, perfect 
 diplomatists in their way; now and then a negro riding on 
 the haunches of a jackass, a combination of long ears and 
 long heels not often met with, but a bridge is very good com- 
 mon ground for extremes to meet; over on the islands in the 
 river, as well as in the air overhead, were flocks of innumer- 
 able buzzards, the street inspectors and scavengers of our 
 American tropical towns, self-elected and never turned out of 
 office; so much for being fond of garbage! But standing on 
 these stones of more than two centuries, it was impossible 
 that the fleeting scenes of the present should wholly repress 
 the memories of the past, above all the recollection that the 
 bridge had itself so long withstood the earthquake's shock, 
 which had overthrown nearly everything around it, reminding 
 one forcibly of what Spain was in her palmy days, in the midst 
 of so much that is significant of what it now is; and then the 
 daring adventure of the perfidious Pizarro and his handful 
 of followers, bearing the sword in one hand and the cross in 
 the other, the one to do violence, the other to sanctify it; 
 the interview at the Spanish camp with the unfortunate
 
 47 
 
 Atahualpa; the insolent demand of surrender of the Romish 
 priest, in the name of the Pope and by the authority of the 
 breviary; the natural and expressive answer of the simple- 
 hearted Inca, who threw the breviary, that could "tell noth- 
 ing" to his ears, to the ground; the Spanish cry "to arms;" 
 the imprisonment of Atahualpa and massacre of his helpless 
 followers; the quarrels over the plundered wealth; the In- 
 ca's offer for his ransom, that was accepted, and then the 
 Inca strangled; the civil broils of the Spaniards, and the 
 righteous retribution of Heaven, in the assassination of Pi- 
 zarro; the unholy farce that opened the chapter, the solemn 
 tragedy that closed it! 
 
 As I lingered on this interesting bridge, as a connecting 
 span between the past and present, a well remembered line 
 In a book of history of my schoolboy days came back vividly 
 to my mind, 
 
 "Pizarro, too, in rich Peru a mighty empire crushed." 
 
 Never, however, did it come within the bounds of my boyish 
 fancy, that I should, at some future day, stand on Pizarro's 
 bridge in the old royal city of Lima. But the false glory of 
 successful conquest, which may have dazzled my youthful 
 vision, could not there blind my eyes to a lesson realized from 
 the dark shadows around me, and rendered all the more im- 
 pressive from the brilliant lights of history. The contrast 
 between the civilization of the old Peruvians and the degen- 
 erated Spaniards was too striking. Here I saw a govern- 
 ment weak, unstable, illiberal, whose agents, for the most 
 part, are selfish, unpatriotic, or corrupt, whose laws are un- 
 certain or unknown, whose justice is bought and sold. There 
 was the mild and beneficent sway of the Incas, their well or- 
 dered communities, and the obedience of their subjects; here, 
 a defiled religion, that darkens the understanding to cheat 
 the eyes, there, a simple worship, which, if it had not ob- 
 tained Divine illumination, seemed to struggle after it in the 
 adoration of the Sun, that appeared to the rational minds of 
 the honest natives as the Father of Light; here, a social con-
 
 48 
 
 dition, which, in its highest grade, has rather been refined in 
 borrowed graces, than elevated by intelligence or strength- 
 ened in virtue, there, was a society whose virtues, if history 
 has not exaggerated them, almost stand alone in Indian story, 
 and that were all their own, so well as their peaceful arts, 
 which, even in the imperfect state that they have come down 
 to us, have left the world much to admire, and something 
 perhaps to learn. As I thought of these things, and looked 
 upon the poor Indians who passed along, heedless of the mem- 
 ories of other days, careless of the present or future, it seemed 
 to me that the weakness of a tear of pity for them, for the 
 fate of their fathers and the royal race who ruled over them 
 in wisdom, was as much in keeping with the place as the 
 strength of its stones. If there is anything in the character 
 of the Spanish conquest, any lustre of heroism, or glory of 
 achievement to constitute this pile of stones a monument of 
 triumphant power as well as of skill, then the recollection of 
 the Incas, of the calm and manly dignity of the last one, go- 
 ing serenely to his peace, the setting "Sun" of his race and 
 of his country; of the simple minded people, of their worship, 
 thoughtful and generous, if not Christianized, of their virtues 
 and their arts, of their tortures and heart rending massacres 
 by the Romish robbers of Spain, is enough, yes, far more than 
 enough to make it indeed a "bridge of sighs." 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 September 8, 1858. Lat., 9 deg, 56 min. 
 
 Long., 95 deg., 15 min. W. 
 
 One week ago to-day we sailed from the bay of Callao, leav- 
 ing behind us the South American coast, and now are steering 
 nearly due west on our passage to the Sandwich Islands. 
 We have progressed you see, as far as the 95th degree of 
 longitude, and although we have been out a week, we have
 
 49 
 
 not yet got as far west as the California ships go in crossing 
 the Equator. It is pleasant thus to get away from the coast 
 for awhile, and change the scene from the desert shores of 
 Peru to the livelier drapery of earth and sky in the Hawaiian 
 group of Polynesian Isles. This change, however, is coupled 
 with the disagreeable necessity of leaving the region of regu- 
 lar mails for three months, at least, and in the dreary waste 
 of Pacific loneliness and degradation this is quite a depriva- 
 tion. It requires but a short residence on the South Ameri- 
 can coast for one to have, in the fullest extent, an apprecia- 
 tion of the good uses of the post office department. The deep 
 interest touching the mail bag, freighted with its loves, its 
 hopes, its fears, its joys and sorrows, is not at all lessened by 
 what we see of the animate and inanimate existences of this 
 part of the world, all of which but serve to "bind us to our 
 native country more." 
 
 My last lines for home were dated Sept. 1st, or rather they 
 should have been, but from carelessness and the few min- 
 utes I had to write, they were antedated Aug. 1, I believe. 
 I had just returned with several of the officers from Lima, 
 where we went the day previous to attend the ball given by 
 President Castilla, and as the ship was all ready for sea, and 
 the mail bag to be left behind for the next steamer north, 
 about to be closed, there was, of course, but little time for 
 postscripts to our letters, and the hurry of the occasion, com- 
 bined with the stupor arising from the sleeplessness of the 
 night, seemed to have the effect of putting me back a month 
 in thought, which as a reality I would not object to in some 
 places, but in Callao I should much prefer to be placed a 
 month ahead. I hoped to have done with Lima forever in 
 my last letter, and should, had not a few incidents of some 
 interest which I wished to include in my jottings been crowd- 
 ed into the last few days of our Peruvian sojourn. Out once 
 more on this vast watery realm, I had much rather talk of 
 its winds and waves, than go back to the filth, fleas and fol- 
 lies of Lima. But then there is some advantage gained, per- 
 haps, by taking the subject to sea with me, as I am enabled 
 to give it an airing, which I am sure it very much needs.
 
 50 
 
 Of the President's ball I do not know that it is necessary 
 to say much, as I have already, in my last letter, given a 
 short account of a private one, which on a small scale was 
 exactly similar. It was a social jam, as such public enter- 
 tainments usually are; so much so that Castilla, notwith- 
 standing his success at revolutions, could hardly set the ball 
 in motion. About a dozen officers from the Merrimac and 
 two or three from the U. S. ship Decatur in their full dress 
 uniforms were presented by our minister, Mr. Clay, to the 
 President at the old palace, which occupies one side of the 
 plaza. This edifice has nothing very palatial about it, ex- 
 cept perhaps its extent. It is a flat, dingy-looking yellow 
 building, mostly occupied by public offices, and having a 
 suite of private parlors, with smaller rooms adjoining, for 
 state occasions. The large reception room, which was plainly 
 furnished, was the principal place for dancing; another served 
 as a bar-room, and was well supplied with bottles and decan- 
 ters; while three or four others were supplied with well pa- 
 tronized gambling tables. 
 
 The President I had before seen on board the ship, which 
 he visited with his suite a few weeks before on Sunday, and, 
 as it is not customary for our ships to salute on that day, 
 the usual honors of manning the yards and firing twenty-one 
 guns were paid the next day. He is upwards of seventy 
 years old, rather small in stature and insignificant in appear- 
 ance, though he has a rough look of brute energy in his face. 
 He is a coarse and illiterate man, having about an equal share 
 of Indian and Spanish blood in his veins, I should think. 
 Personally, he not preferred, I believe, by the more intelli- 
 gent Peruvians, but he is recommended to them by the fact 
 of being President de facto, though not de jure, by his com- 
 mand of the army, and his energy in keeping the peace by 
 deterring others, who are perhaps more worthy, from getting 
 his place. 
 
 What a comment on Peru is it that her best citizens prefer 
 an ignorant usurper, solely because he has the physical force 
 to maintain the usurpation; that an honest government is
 
 51 
 
 of less importance to them than the process of obtaining it. 
 This subject of Peruvian politics is a disgusting one, and I 
 will endeavor not to mention it again, unless I should happen 
 to stumble on to the Price Current and naturally connect the 
 two things together. 
 
 The officers of state, army and navy, and foreign ambassa- 
 dors in their various uniforms, were present at the ball, and, 
 with the ladies gayly attired, made the assembly a brilliant 
 one. I was rather disappointed in the beauty of the ladies, 
 after what I had heard of their charms; but perhaps I went 
 expecting too much. Bringing high expectations around Cape 
 Horn is rather a dangerous experiment. Unless one intends 
 climbing the Cordilleras, I would advise him to leave them at 
 home, as they will always keep well. But I ought not to 
 underrate the attractions of the Limanean fair. Without 
 being so strikingly beautiful as some of our own country- 
 women, perhaps, through a want of radiant expression, they 
 have a great degree of the passive beauty of features and 
 complexion, with generally very good forms, and are some- 
 what acquainted with the poetry of motion. They have not 
 a healthy look, however, and they lack animation. They 
 soon reach their meridian and lose their attractions in a 
 speedy old age, and not unfrequently in corpulency. There 
 is nothing green in the old age of the men or women of Lima; 
 it is decidedly a dry time of life with them. Why should it 
 not be? What can they know of the mellow autumn of life's 
 decline, when, having tried to do nothing through livelong 
 years, age brings a burden to indolence rather than a rest 
 from toil? The men have no look of intelligent manhood 
 about them. They seem to prefer gambling and cock-fight- 
 ing, both as a business and a diversion, while foreigners keep 
 the shops and do most of the important work of the city.
 
 52 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 SUNDAY, September 12, 1858. Lat., 9 deg., 56 min. 
 Long., 108 deg., 15 min. W. 
 
 THE PRESIDENT'S BALL THE LADIES OF LIMA THEIR DRESS 
 VEILED FACES, ETC. 
 
 Our longitude is a little over 108 degrees to-day, I think, 
 and latitude about the same as before given. Although we 
 have been out a week and a half, the space which we have 
 sailed over seems to be an insignificant line on the chart. But 
 this is the vast Pacific, and to appreciate its vastness it is nec- 
 essary to see it and above all to feel it. This you have done 
 quite thoroughly, and under circumstances not a little calcu- 
 lated to impress you with these realities, that are sufficiently 
 solemn in the hour of trust and repose, and terrible in the 
 midst of alarm. You have been through these same watery 
 latitudes and felt the delightful fanning of this soft and 
 steady southeast trade. What a pleasure and what a power 
 it is! Not fickle and fretful, it blows us evenly along to our 
 destiny, at from six to nine knots the hour, with nothing to 
 keep us company but the waves, which its own spirit hath 
 raised into glad freedom, and the delicate little stormy petrel 
 with untiring wing flitting o'er the deep, a creature of unrest, 
 without a home, hovering o'er eternity. 
 
 But hoping that these kind breezes may follow us over the 
 Line, and urge us onward clear through the region of the 
 variables, I will go back with you to the President's ball, 
 only to get away from it, however, as soon as possible, for, 
 if I have not said enough about it already, I doubt if I can 
 do it justice, not feeling myself to be altogether impartial, 
 such was the discomfort of standing up several consecutive 
 hours and being swayed about with the multitude in hot 
 rooms, with now and then two or three fleas taking a hop 
 over me on their own account, and biting as if they were 
 conscious that it was their last chance. So far as the dancing 
 is concerned, I suppose it differed but little from balls else- 
 where. It was made up, for the most part, of the modern
 
 53 
 
 fancy polkas and waltzes with an occasional quadrille and 
 contra-dance, which latter differed considerably from those in 
 common use in the United States, so far as I observed it, 
 which was not very far I confess, as in moving about in the 
 crowd it required not a little care to look out for my own 
 steps. You will wonder how in such a state of things there 
 could be any dancing at all. I hardly know myself how it 
 was, except on the principle of high pressure, which was close- 
 ly adhered to, I thought, by both spectators and dancers. 
 I know not how it is, but, fill a room as you will, the ladies 
 will always find space for dancing. It is a sort of mathe- 
 matical paradox, and belongs to unnatural philosophy. If 
 the ladies never arrive at the quadrature of the circle, they 
 can quadrille one at any time. Each lady, of course, now-a- 
 days, is a circle in herself, or rather herself in a circle, and 
 not a small one either, and this tends all the more to com- 
 plicate the question. The matter is a good deal involved, 
 and I leave it. One unfortunate lady, whom I saw, had suf- 
 fered somewhat in her periphery. The sphere in which she 
 moved was either more than she could fill, or else she moved 
 in it so rapidly that the centrifugal entirely overcame the 
 centripetal forces; at all events a portion of one of her hoops 
 projected in a straight line and described an exact tangent 
 to the circle. 
 
 But enough and more than enough of the President's ball. 
 I suppose it had an end, but I did not see it, on the following 
 morning. I think these entertainments are with some pro- 
 priety termed balls, for they rarely have any well ascertained 
 end. Being in the land of earthquakes and civil turmoils, 
 I thought it not improbable that the present affair would have 
 a dramatic conclusion, particularly as the excitement of the 
 presidential election was not over. But neither the rum- 
 bling earth disturbed the light steps of the "fair women," nor 
 did the cry "to arms" assault the ears of the "brave men" 
 of Lima. I suppose, like other assemblies of the kind, it 
 wore itself out with returning day, carrying the revelry of 
 night into the foggy twilight hours of a Peruvian morn; that
 
 54 
 
 most graceless time of drooping charms when the sober, lead- 
 en dawn dispels all the loveliness of the night. 
 
 About two o'clock the flag lieutenant and myself, not wait- 
 ing for supper, quietly withdrew. I should have done so be- 
 fore, but former experience had taught me that sleep in Lima 
 hotels was something that required practice to secure, and 
 I thought it quite as well to tire out by standing up as by 
 lying down. As we left the long reception room and passed 
 out through the rough looking entry with its brick tiled floor, 
 I noticed in the crowd of spectators, who had gained admis- 
 sion there to struggle for a peep through the doors and win- 
 dows into the ball rooms, quite a large number of the tapa- 
 das, as they are called, or veiled women dressed in black, 
 with nothing of their faces visible but their dark eyes. 
 
 The saya y manta, which I spoke of in a former letter, is 
 now quite out of use. The manta, or head dress, was con- 
 nected with the saya, or gown, for the purpose of being drawn 
 over the head and concealing the face with the exception of 
 one eye, and is said to have been a very becoming dress to a 
 good form. The purpose of the old manta is now answered 
 by an ordinary black mantilla, which leaves the whole face, 
 or one or two eyes, exposed as the wearer may fancy. It is 
 worn by all classes of women in some way, particularly in 
 church and on feast days, and always for concealment, by 
 those who desire to advertise themselves as fallen from grace, 
 which I incline to think is not high enough in Lima to render it 
 altogether a breakneck affair. But in that dark clouded group 
 of gazers there were probably others besides prostitutes. There 
 were, I dare say, some of the uninvited ladies, who, without 
 doubt, thought themselves worthy of and expected an invitation 
 to the President's ball, taking sweet revenge with their dagger 
 eyes, and notwithstanding the crowded state of the rooms, look- 
 ing intently at the vacancies. And there were, it may be, some of 
 the invited who did not go because they thought it would be a 
 little too public and mixed, and therefore determined to keep 
 their privacy sacred by staying at home. And then, too, per- 
 haps, there were some of those who had worked hard to com-
 
 55 
 
 plete their arrangements for the distinguished occasion, but 
 through some mishap or defect in the toilet, or some other 
 of those casualties that betide the "best laid plans of men 
 and mice," they were unavoidably compelled to be absent 
 bodily, though present spiritually. There were, I suppose, 
 those also who were at home for other reasons, but their faces 
 were so much in the dark that I could not well discriminate 
 so as to classify them. If there were any there who were 
 prevented by ill health from going out to the ball, I could 
 not distinguish them. 
 
 A fine arrangement certainly, is this tapada habit for those 
 ladies who wish to go to an evening entertainment, but can- 
 not for the want of an invitation or some other reason; and 
 for those invited who don't know what to do, but want to 
 go and to stay at home at the same time. It is particularly 
 well adapted to those who seem to be very indifferent about 
 going, and do not, but after the event, spend a week in ask- 
 ing questions about it. It is a very convenient way of tak- 
 ing the veil, too; retiring from the world and yet seeing a 
 great deal more of it. This may account for there being so 
 few nuns in the convents of Lima. This manner of dress 
 gives the ladies a great many privileges, but it compels them 
 to submit to some sacrifices. Their object seems to be to 
 make themselves nobodies in particular, and the gentlemen 
 claim the right of talking to them as nobodies, and saying 
 very much what they choose, without being responsible. As 
 they conceal everything but their eyes, I suppose that they 
 are not presumed to have any ears. If the ladies of Lima 
 will "love darkness rather than light," I do not know why 
 the other sex have not the right to think that it is because 
 "their deeds are evil." Most of the beauty of their faces is 
 generally in the eyes, and this custom enables them to make 
 it more conspicuous by veiling the other features if they do 
 not harmonize. I doubt if these clouds often obscure the 
 more attractive faces. 
 
 Having passed by the Indian looking soldiers on guard near 
 the door, and the tapadas, also on the watch with their masked
 
 56 
 
 battery of eyes, we pressed our way along through the crowd, 
 among whom were several Indian women, whose dark faces, 
 in connection with the tapadas, made quite a contrast with 
 the bright, joyous scene within. These women were probably 
 the wives of some of the soldiers, by whom they were per- 
 mitted to stand near the threshold to witness a pageant 
 strange and unusual to them. Their sombre, expressionless 
 faces needed no veil to darken them; they were tapadas by 
 nature. But their faces were not darker than seems to be 
 their destiny. Gazing sullenly with rayless eyes, they looked 
 just as they should look, who have but little in this world to 
 look for, except its unwelcome necessities, and have already 
 entered the shadow of an impending doom. 
 
 We returned to the hotel, and after knocking for a quarter 
 of an hour at the closed gate, were admitted by the drowsy 
 porter to our room. For about four or five hours the fleas 
 and myself waged war, which was desperate enough for a 
 war of extermination, but I incline to think that I did myself 
 more damage than the enemy. They certainly succeeded in 
 conquering sleep, if it had not already been effectually ban- 
 ished by the previous excitement of the night. Morning be- 
 gan to peep into the window, and found both parties still in 
 possession of the field, but as my forces were somewhat weak- 
 ened, I concluded to draw them off, the foe all the time in 
 hot pursuit. 
 
 After breakfasting and bidding farewell to friends who had 
 been very kind to us, we took the cars about nine o'clock for 
 Callao, soon leaving behind us the old city with its venerable 
 towers, and the burial mounds a few miles out on our left, 
 looking sombre in the cloudy light that shone upon them, 
 and dusty as ever in their long labor of decay. 
 
 We reached the ship, as I have said before, in time to add 
 a hasty line to our letters, and in a few minutes were sur- 
 rounded by the dancing waves. 
 
 I designed to make some allusion to the bull fight which I 
 saw in Lima, but the spectacle was such a disgusting one, 
 that the mere mention of it is enough for me, this evening at 
 all events.
 
 57 
 
 This is a most beautiful Sabbath night. The weather is 
 delightful, every day growing a little warmer as we approach 
 the Equator. To-night the increasing moon lights up the sea, 
 which answers to the sky in glory. The chaplain has preached 
 earnestly to-day, and the choir have chanted well; but what 
 a sermon and anthem are around and above us! The calm 
 and beauty of this Pacific Sabbath night, who here so dead 
 that he cannot feel; the unlabored discourse of the sky and 
 moon and stars; the low swelling hymn of the sea touched 
 by the melodious winds, who so deaf that he cannot hear 
 them, who so lost as to heed them not! 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 WEDNESDAY, Sept. 15, 1858. Lat. 9 deg., 56 min. 
 Long. 117 deg., 15 min. W. 
 
 WEATHER ON THE PACIFIC. 
 
 This is the night, and the nights are now so attractive that 
 I can hardly resist the temptation to be on the upper deck. 
 The days are no less delightful than the nights. The sun's 
 red radiance scarcely illuminates the western waters, ere the 
 moon's mellow light pales the eastern waves. This is truly 
 the perfection of climate; the poetry of sailing. We have 
 experienced nothing like it in our cruising. Fine weather we 
 have had generally at sea in the Pacific, both in the tropical 
 and temperate latitudes, but this belongs to the superlative 
 degree. Here are the brightest days of earth shining, and 
 shining on forever to the satiate sea, with only here and there 
 a mariner. We have now been out a fortnight, sailing from 
 one hundred and fifty to two hundred miles a day, and yet 
 have seen but one ship, an American clipper, bound probably 
 for California. A selfish morality perhaps would question the 
 wisdom of this apparent waste of sunshine, and mildly tern-
 
 58 
 
 pered breeze. But weather morality is everywhere rather a 
 subject of feeling than of thought. And it is for this reason 
 perhaps that the weather is such a commonplace theme; 
 commonplace, because we regard it as a settled result more 
 than a process still going on; because our nerves of sensation 
 have a great deal to do with it, and they are very common- 
 place things; because we are not apt enough to look down 
 upon it from the upper air of contemplation higher than the 
 clouds of prejudice and feeling, where we can behold the 
 noiseless energies above that make the storm, while we hear 
 its voice below. Does it oftener occur to us, that foul weath- 
 er and fair are complements of each other in the eternal round 
 of nature, that the brightest summer day is working out per- 
 haps her darkest night, and the most cloudy curtain hangs 
 beneath the clearest sky? While we sail so pleasantly through 
 these bright, genial Pacific latitudes, the spirit of these rest- 
 less waters is being constantly raised from its tossing, trou- 
 bled bed by the sunbeam into the calmer regions above, thence 
 to be borne along to the west by these winds that move around 
 the globe; and after being whirled, it may be, by the fierce 
 typhoon, and wafted o'er Chinese and Indian plains, it may 
 descend again to quench the rude African's thirst or water 
 European ruins, or be caught within the Atlantic's sphere, 
 and transported to Columbia's shores to strengthen our north- 
 ern blasts or gently fall in summer showers. Could we de- 
 tect this interesting process with the eye, and enlarge our 
 vision to something like its entire comprehension, we should 
 learn a little better, aside from their great abilities to see in 
 the leaden clouds, that sometimes so sadly interrupt our busi- 
 ness and deaden our pleasures, not so much foul as fair weath- 
 er creations, representative of the bright glories of various 
 climes; and find in the raindrop a little ocean gem of con- 
 centrated sunshine, falling like a tear that comes from the 
 warmth of the soul, while it partially obscures the light of 
 the eye. 
 
 But this may be fair weather philosophy and perhaps I 
 had better wait until we get into the variables or "doldroms,"
 
 59 
 
 as they are called, and see if my practice and theory coincide. 
 It would be rather hard, it must be confessed, in one of our 
 cold northeasters, while it was trying the whalebone of our 
 umbrellas and penetrating with its chills to our very marrow, 
 to look up to the clouds and think of them as the emanations 
 from sunny climes, except as being a part of the original sin 
 from Paradise, derived for the purpose of calling the atten- 
 tion of Adam and Eve to the fact that they were sadly in 
 want of clothes! But however it may be with clouds, our 
 sunshine requires no philosophy, no stretch of the imagina- 
 tion. And it is well for us that we do not have to work as 
 hard to appreciate a fine day as the elements do to make one. 
 If we did, it is not improbable that our prayers for rain would 
 go up much oftener than they do. If we were obliged to ex- 
 tract our sunshine out of cucumbers, we should praise a little 
 more the clouds that nourish them. 
 
 From the weather in general, let us come down to the 
 weather in particular. Last night was the most attractive 
 one that I have yet seen at sea. It was not what would 
 usually be called perfect, perhaps, for it had its clouds; but 
 such clouds as seem to arise not so much to hide the moon as to 
 drape the skies; morning panoramas of fleecy light themselves, 
 as they careered through the heavens before night's silvery orb; 
 beings of life, as they almost seemed, passing along in grand 
 procession before the bright queen enthroned among the stars. 
 They may add a little gloom to the night shadows of the land; 
 but the solemnity of the sea, though illumined rather than 
 darkened by the night, I think appears more kindly in their 
 presence. 
 
 In the intense longing to see anything that has life at sea, 
 what wonder is there that the eye should follow the flying 
 clouds, voyagers to the West, like ourselves, with all their 
 white sails rounded out in the winds that waft them through 
 the blue heights above; bright mariners of the skies, lighted 
 by heaven's million lamps, but finding no harbor of undis- 
 turbed repose? 
 
 But quite enough to-day of the weather, which you be-
 
 60 
 
 come fully acquainted with at home. Outside of this floating 
 prison-house of ours, it is all I have to talk about, and where 
 the weather is so delightful as it is now, I do not like to con- 
 fine my thoughts to the dull, artificial routine of a man-of- 
 war. This is another blessed night, and twelve o'clock. The 
 boatswain's mates are arousing the drowsy sailors from their 
 sound and sonorous sleep, with the harsh, guttural call of 
 "all the starboard watch," the tone of which would lead one 
 to think that it was intended to summon them from the 
 sleep that knows no waking. It is a sort of "knell of part- 
 ing day," which the sailors have gratis, with the additional 
 satisfaction of going up on deck to see or feel the coming of 
 another. I will come down from the clouds and bid you 
 good night, which is far spent with you 'ere this, and passed 
 away before the glorious light of a mild, sweet scented au- 
 tumnal morning. 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 SUNDAY, September 19, 1858. 
 
 BULL FIGHT IN LIMA THE TAP ADAS CITY OF LIMA, ETC. 
 
 Our longitude yesterday was upwards of 124 degrees; lati- 
 tude, 2 degrees, 42 seconds. What our position is to-day I 
 have not seen. We are approaching the Equator again, you 
 see, and shall probably cross it day after to-morrow for the 
 fourth time. The weather is quite warm; the mercury rang- 
 ing about 80 degrees. The southeast trade continues fresh 
 generally, the days bright, the nights beautiful. 
 
 In my last notice of Lima, a few days since, I spoke of at- 
 tending a bull fight, and, before going further with this long 
 letter, I will here make a passing allusion to it. I do so re- 
 luctantly, for we take quite as little pleasure in writing about 
 disagreeable things as we do in seeing them. This is the 
 most exciting diversion which the Limanians have, but it is
 
 61 
 
 now of rare occurrence. This would seem to indicate an ad- 
 vance of refinement, but as a result rather than a cause of 
 the disuse of bull fights, I am inclined to think. They are 
 patronized by the state, and the quiet or anxious state of 
 mind of public functionaries has much to do with their ex- 
 hibition. As a national sport of Old Spain, I desired to see 
 one once, although I anticipated all the disgust, which was so 
 abundantly realized. We have all of us heard of Spanish 
 bull fights from our infancy, and not to see one when an op- 
 portunity offers would hardly be treating our recollections 
 fairly. We may regret very much that Spain could not in- 
 corporate among her national institutions a more humane 
 and elevated custom, but she has consulted her own tastes, 
 not ours, and we accept the custom not for its own sake, but 
 for the sake of Spain. It is well that our associations act in- 
 dependently of our judgments, which are wise counsellors for 
 to-day and excellent providers for to-morrow, but cannot 
 measure all the delicate wisdom and power of yesterday. I 
 went to the bull fight, not to see the living and dying tor- 
 tures of poor dumb beasts, but to see Lima, and more than 
 all, perhaps, from respect to associated feelings, which had 
 their impulse originally in the picture of a bull fight in old 
 Olney's geography. The picture was not distinguished as a 
 work of art, but it made its impression; and was in a book 
 over which, like other school boys, I studied and played, 
 wept and laughed. If I had seen the bull fight before study- 
 ing Olney, and had time to condemn the thing itself before 
 time had consecrated its picture, I should have been differ- 
 ently disposed. 
 
 The bull ring of Lima is located not far from the old ala- 
 meda, or public place for walking and driving in the city, 
 and has a large capacity. It is a rough looking, yellow, cir- 
 cular wall, about twenty feet high perhaps, made of coarse 
 bricks and plastered, I think, divided on the inside into small 
 apartments that project a few feet from the wall, or the up- 
 per portion of it, like the boxes in a theatre, with a roof over- 
 head. These boxes extend around the ring, and in front and
 
 62 
 
 beneath them are the more common seats, which extend 
 quite to the ring. A portion of the boxes are reserved for 
 the public officers, foreign ministers, etc. Guard posts are 
 erected in the centre of the ring, and in several places around 
 it, to protect the combatants from the fury of the bulls. At 
 the invitation of the American minister, some of the officers 
 of the ship, including myself, occupied his box. The weather 
 was not sufficiently warm to stimulate the blood of the ani- 
 mals to the utmost, but some of them were altogether too 
 fierce for the matadores. Some eight or ten of them were 
 successively brought into the ring, and about half of them 
 were killed. The matadores, or bull killers, of whom there 
 were four or five, were on foot. In Spain, I think, they usu- 
 ally fight on horses. There were several other combatants to 
 run before the beasts and flaunt red and other colored flags 
 in their faces, as well as torture them by hanging streaming 
 bunches of high colored strips of paper, attached to sharp 
 hooks, in their necks, and by throwing loaded spears, that ex- 
 ploded in the flesh while adhering, and by other studied 
 cruelties, equally revolting. Paper caricatures of men or 
 women, loaded with explosive combustibles, were placed in 
 the ring for the beasts to attack with their horns. 
 
 One unfortunate dame went off in a spontaneous combus- 
 tion before she encountered the bull's horns. It was obvious 
 that, goaded by so many tortures and fretted by so many 
 annoyances within the ring, with the excitement of the im- 
 mense throng surrounding it, the bulls were confused and 
 unable to concentrate their eyes long on one individual, which 
 gave their enemies every advantage over them. After the 
 animal was considerably exhausted, the matadore presented 
 himself with a long dagger to stab him through the neck and 
 spine. If skilfully done, it brought him at once to the ground, 
 but in only one instance was this effected, I think. One furi- 
 ous bull was struck nearly a dozen times before he fell. It 
 was all a butchery, and a very bungling one, certainly. It 
 was too gross and murderous to admit of any more detailed 
 description. As a display of skill, it failed altogether; as a
 
 63 
 
 display of daring, the advantage was entirely on the side of 
 the bulls; but, instead of having their horns crowned with 
 garlands, they were ignominiously dragged about the ring 
 weltering in their gore, while some poor wretch picked up the 
 money and received the huzzas of the multitude. One man 
 was chased and run down by a bull, and then tossed in the 
 air, but not injured otherwise than having a good shaking, 
 which I thought he very much deserved. In the centre of 
 the ring, above a small platform elevated on the posts, there 
 was a portrait of the present French emperor, to whom the 
 grand function, as it was called, was dedicated. There were, 
 I should think, not far from ten thousand people to witness 
 the spectacle, a few of whom were well dressed women, and 
 there were a large number of the latter, I was told, concealed 
 behind the ring and peeping out below the lower platform, 
 which was elevated a little above it. Most of these were 
 tapadas, I suppose, with their eyes stabbing in the dark. A 
 short time before dusk the exhibition ended, and the giddy 
 throng withdrew, leaving the arena with the poor brutes who 
 lay there mingled -with its dust, in which they breathed out 
 the last of their long agony. 
 
 Outside of the walls an animated scene was presented in 
 the alameda by the multitude and the carriages with ladies, 
 some of whom had attended the bloody work of the ring, 
 others had come to see the crowd disperse. And along the 
 sidewalk, drawn up in a row, were the tapadas, some of them 
 quite elegantly dressed, all in black, leaving the passers by to 
 infer who and what they were as best they could, from pairs 
 of eyes and arms, whose light only made the surrounding 
 darkness more visible. Where so much was left to inference, 
 there was certainly some room for doubt. Some of them, 
 from their laughing familiarity with the gentlemen, appeared 
 to be ladies who were recognized by their friends and could 
 no longer screen themselves, or their designs to enjoy a little 
 coquetry and light hearted fun. Others looked darkly des- 
 olate, unrecognized, uncared for, abandoned! 
 
 Their darkness was a fitting emblem of their condition.
 
 64 
 
 They stood alone, mantled in blackness; not so much as ex- 
 posing themselves to the world's charity; living without any 
 day; wearing about them continuous night, from which their 
 eyes wandered forth, not bright and beaming with starlight 
 faith, but wild and wanton as the light that flickers from a 
 sinking wreck! 
 
 I heard that the bull fights have degenerated very much 
 from what they formerly were. Whether this can be true 
 of such a cruel and depraved show, or not, I was inclined 
 rather to attribute the degeneracy to the race who patronize 
 them. 
 
 Now that I am back again in Lima, I will add a few lines 
 further in regard to the place. Lima is not a city of many 
 public amusements. I think that it has but one theatre, and 
 that a very indifferent one, where I found, as elsewhere, the 
 principal actors were the fleas, and I can testify, all over me, 
 as to the tragic effects which they produced. They do not 
 seem to care much for the severe dignity of the classic school, 
 but jump through all restraints, so carried away are they by 
 their passion for penetrating human nature! During the 
 Vice-royalty, I was told, the city was far more attractive in 
 her amusements, as well as in her social life generally, than 
 now. The numerous quarrels, factions and cliques of latter 
 days have brought mourning and all kinds of embittered 
 feeling into those circles, that ought to be centres of every 
 good influence in the State; and this condition of affairs, as 
 it is enough to account for her unhappy political and moral 
 society, will furnish sufficient reason for the poverty of her 
 lighter graces and arts. 
 
 Lima, is on the whole, a grave looking city. Aside from 
 what has just been stated, this may be due in part to the 
 native Spanish temperament, and perhaps to the physical 
 convulsions, which so constantly threatened her security. 
 It is the gravity, however, which proceeds in a great measure 
 from her appearances, manners and amusements even, not 
 from her convictions. Her principles are all vain and shal- 
 low. Her religion is a dumb, empty show; her morality
 
 NATHANIEL OILMAN PERRY
 
 65 
 
 loose; her politics conceited and childish, even when honest; 
 her justice, like her veiled women, always having one eye open. 
 Her great amusement, if amusement it can be called, is 
 gambling, as of her worn out mother Spain; or rather I should 
 say, it is more her business than her pleasure. 
 
 Lima, of course, must have her household joys; but very 
 few, if any, for the open air. There is no bounding, light 
 hearted, buoyant childhood running in her streets; no in- 
 vigorating, generous sports animating her out door life. Her 
 girls look like prim young dames nicely padded and hooped, 
 to keep their girlhood fast. Her women look like over 
 grown girls. Her boys look like little men. Her men act 
 like little boys. Seeing her citizens in the cockpit or over 
 the gaming table, you would say they were hard at work, 
 intent and in earnest. Seeing them in the real business of 
 life, public or private, you would say they were at play. 
 Being generally too lazy to work, their pleasures naturally 
 assume the air of business. 
 
 Such is Lima: a city of "strenuous idleness;" having no 
 zeal for earnest work; no out-springing, joyous heart for real 
 play. Her pleasures never seem to wear a laugh, or her 
 work to have the strength of a sober purpose. But the wis- 
 dom of life admits of no such interchanged and contrasted 
 conditions in her most useful and necessary instrumentali- 
 ties. Lima seems not to have learned that work and play 
 cannot wear each other's livery and preserve their proper 
 uses, any more than the joyful vine and honorable column, 
 that support each other, can change places, without turning 
 a design of harmony and beauty into a disorder of folly. 
 It is evident that the energy of the old Spaniards has died 
 out from Peru. They did their bad work of conquest effec- 
 tually. They conquered everything but ignominy, and per- 
 petuated that, by leaving behind them a race to quarrel and 
 dance over their graves)
 
 66 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 TUESDAY, September 21, 1858. 
 
 PASSING THE EQUATOR. 
 
 Our longitude to-day at 12 was upwards of 130 degrees, 
 and our latitude about 0, or equatorial. We crossed the line 
 about seven o'clock in the morning. I did not go above to 
 witness the important event, but believe that we got over 
 safely. Old Neptune sometimes exacts toll, but in consid- 
 eration of our guns he gave us a free passage. The venerable 
 gentleman is becoming quite liberal. This is the fourth time 
 we have crossed his great mark without being stopped, or 
 without his coming aboard to receive our homage. I believe, 
 however, that he did make a short visit to the forecastle dur- 
 ing our first passage in the Atlantic. As I did not see him, I 
 cannot describe him to you, but I think that you have had 
 an introduction. It was owing to peculiar circumstances, 
 you know, that I did not then see him. I felt his presence 
 very perceptibly. While we are passing the Equator in one 
 direction, the sun is just about to go over in the opposite. 
 Of course he is exactly over head. It's a pity that two such 
 influential characters cannot remain together in the same 
 hemisphere. We cheerfully acknowledge his Solar Highness, 
 but he assumes an air of distance, looks down upon us and 
 then gives us the go-by. While he is so useful to us in throw- 
 ing so much light on our ocean pathway and its whereabout, 
 we wish, now that he is over head, he would let us have a 
 drop letter, giving us later news from the North, the where- 
 abouts and whatabouts of our friends. As it is, we have to 
 take Solomon's word for it, that there is no news under the 
 sun. 
 
 No news is very good news, as far as it goes, and we ought 
 to be thankful that it is no worse, but, in these over stimu- 
 lated times, as it doesn't break any body's neck or set fire 
 to anything, it is apt to be treated with indifference. I 
 doubt, however, whether Solomon would ever have said that 
 there is no new thing under the sun, if he had gone to sea,
 
 67 
 
 and been anxious to hear from his large and growing family! 
 News, like many other things, is exceedingly relative in its 
 character, and a man's latitude and longitude have a good 
 deal to do with it. 
 
 We have not yet had the equinoctial storm, but, as the 
 almanacs say, I suppose it may be expected about this time. 
 To one acquainted with the Southern half of our globe, it 
 doesn't seem so strange that the sun should make such a 
 sensation and shed such floods of tears in leaving the northern 
 hemisphere, so poorly is his light appreciated, and so few 
 of the just are there down in these parts for him to shine on. 
 If meteorologists would let morality help their physics, now 
 and then, perhaps they would get a little new light. But, 
 soberly, if there is novelty in the fact of having the sun di- 
 rectly over our heads to-day, certainly there ought to be 
 sublimity enough to awaken, at least, a transient emotion. 
 We gaze, however, as idly as ever into the air and call it va- 
 cancy, and look out upon these waters and call them a waste. 
 If the sun were to drop pearls at our feet, we should think 
 more of the pearls than of the sun. To-day he appears to 
 us in the midst of this vast ocean as he probably will never 
 appear again. To-day he shines in mid heaven upon us in 
 mid ocean! To-day he takes his longest look at us, but 
 after a moment's curiosity is indulged, we think no more of 
 him. 
 
 For many years we have felt the impress of his seasons, 
 each so pleasant and fitting in its turn. To-day we seem to 
 see them all above us, but think as little of their gathered as of 
 their parted gifts. Clear into the southern hemisphere shoot 
 the glad rays of life restoring spring; just behind falls the 
 gorgeous summer; while genial autumn mellows the temper- 
 ate north, and fast behind comes on stern but honest winter. 
 
 Here, too, mingle the two great winds that flow around 
 the world, sweeping both hemispheres; here the great Pacific 
 equatorial current runs, coming out of the south, and flowing 
 to the west and then the north. Around this imaginary line, 
 which we have just crossed, cluster all the sublimities of sun,
 
 68 
 
 air, ocean, and our own base indifference! The vast heaving 
 waters are laboring unceasingly to join the ocean hemi- 
 spheres, but weary voyagers that we are, how little do our 
 minds move with their unending flow; the swift winds are 
 flying with the sun, but how feebly do our thoughts take 
 wing, how fearfully they hold back from these immensities; 
 in the blue firmament above the orb of day, with spring and 
 summer in the van, leads on autumn and winter in the grand 
 march of the seasons; but how faintly do our hearts beat 
 time to its celestial harmony! 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MEERIMAC, AT SEA, 
 SUNDAY, September 26, 1858. 
 
 THE SHARK AND PILOT PISH. 
 
 To-day at 12 o'clock, our longitude was about 135 degrees, 
 latitude 10 degrees. We are now fairly in the "doldrums." 
 The wind blows lightly all around the compass, and the men 
 are kept constantly at the braces. Every quarter or half 
 hour a rain squall passes over with but little wind, and the 
 sea and sky are dark with clouds and rain. What a con- 
 trast with the bright heavens of a few days since! But we 
 are in the stormy north! All the past week has been as pleas- 
 ant as the elements could make it. The nights have been 
 beautiful. Tuesday night in particular, was one to be re- 
 membered. Such purity of air I have hardly ever before 
 noticed. The full round moon, that dazzled with light, 
 seemed to stand out from the clear blue sky, so that you 
 could see behind it. We generally see it in the heavens, but 
 on Tuesday night it acknowledged its allegiance to earth. 
 It came down from the infinite above, and took its place as a 
 satellite. Notwithstanding the light of the moon, some of 
 the very stars and planets seemed to reveal their distances to
 
 69 
 
 our telescopic eyes, and rival the Queen of Night in brilliancy. 
 I call it night, but it seemed as if the planets had left their 
 places and come down to be suns, and the heavens were 
 projected forward by the vast convex firmament of air, such 
 was its clearness. Venus shone with power and beauty in 
 the western sky, and, long ere the day went down, stood 
 ready to catch the light from her sinking soul. A little fur- 
 ther to the north, Arcturus rose sparkling from the wave. 
 More to the south, looked forth Mars, shining with a some- 
 what lesser light, his warlike front subdued, and crimson fire 
 purged away by the all pervading purity. Jupiter and 
 Sirius came tardily into the east, where the Pleiades were 
 shedding their "sweet influences," and glory encircling the 
 band of Orion. Every thing had precision and distinctness, 
 and the dark blue horizon of waters stood out from the sky 
 to divide the wonders above from the wonders below. It 
 was honor enough for the sea to be the mirror for such a 
 scene, but the glory which it reflected back seemed only to 
 have come down to light up its own sublimity. Looking 
 up into the spangled dome of such a night, contemplation 
 could well fancy that space itself revealed something of its 
 depths and heights in the clear burning of the thousand lamps 
 that illumined its eternity! 
 
 During the last week we have seen nothing scarcely, that 
 has life beyond our own walls. Only one fellow voyager has 
 given us evidence that we are not alone on the world of 
 waters, and he appeared but for a few short hours. Even 
 the birds have gone, and their buoyant wings no longer en- 
 liven the desolation of the deep. The little petrel, that 
 never before has forsaken us, refuses to follow now. He 
 no more flits over the waves behind us, half flying, half run- 
 ning with his light, airy step. We have passed the limits 
 of even their almost boundless, wild wave home. 
 
 I have looked day after day for the spouting of the huge 
 leviathans of the deep, but have seen nothing that looks like 
 it, save the dashing spray of the billows as they roll their 
 huge bulks towards the west. The whales are evidently all
 
 70 
 
 driven north or south from these regions of the ocean, or 
 they are more probably killed. Our enterprising country- 
 men from New England have hunted them in every sea, till 
 at last a sperm whale is rarely met with. I am sorry to be 
 informed that sometimes the "men of Massachusetts" are 
 not select in their attacks, but kill the young as well as the 
 old. 
 
 If this be so, it is not surprising that these interesting 
 mammalia of the deep are so scarce. So long as money 
 getting selfishness is as boundless as these waters, remon- 
 strance will probably be vain, or it would be well for the 
 whales to hold an indignation meeting, and vote to present 
 the New Bedford whalers with some of the modern essays 
 on the art of preserving fish, coupled with a few extracts 
 from the "Best way to get rich." We were sent out here in 
 part, to protect the whaling interest, but who will come to 
 protect the whales from indiscriminate slaughter? We have 
 seen but very few fish of any kind on our way. Several days 
 since I saw a school of young porpoises frisking and jumping 
 along by us. They looked very much like a school of boys 
 just let loose for vacation, and giving vent to their bounding 
 emotions in a game of "leap frog." 
 
 Now and then the dorsal fin of a stealthy shark is seen 
 behind us cutting through the waves. They always come 
 near enough to smell and find out what we have to eat, but, 
 probably on account of the shortness of our provisions, they 
 have not presented themselves much for a week or two. Last 
 Wednesday, however, one of the round nosed species paid 
 his respects to our most worthy Commander-in-Chief, by 
 coming close up to the rudder and looking into the- stern 
 port of the cabin. The sea was quite composed, and I never 
 before had so fair a view of the shark afloat, although I have 
 seen him ashore. He was not of the largest kind, being about 
 seven or eight feet long, I should think. But the great at- 
 tractions were the two little striped pilot fish, apparently not 
 more than four or five inches long, which he brought along 
 with him. They seemed to be striped similar to the perch,
 
 71 
 
 but much more distinctly. I never saw them before, and 
 was surprised to see them so small, but their usual size, I 
 believe, is larger. 
 
 This remarkable association of the shark and pilot fish is 
 one of the most interesting facts of natural history, and one 
 that has very much puzzled her votaries. There evidently 
 is a good understanding of some kind between the two, but 
 the difficulty is to know what its purpose is, and what are 
 the terms of the agreement existing between fish of such 
 unequal power and different natures. Does the hungry shark 
 engage the valuable services of the pilot fish to find his prey, 
 and pay him as the lion does the jackal, or does the latter 
 seek the protection of the former on condition of such ser- 
 vices rendered? Or is the understanding like some of the 
 friendly alliances of recent times, where each of the high con- 
 tracting parties undertakes to render to the other all the 
 assistance in his power, doing as little injury as is consistent 
 with circumstances? This is certainly an important question 
 in the jurisprudence of natural history, and, were it agi- 
 tated, might rival another fish controversy, which once shook 
 all Holland, "Whether the fish take the hook, or the hook 
 the fish." 
 
 But it is much to be doubted whether so craving an appe- 
 tite as that of the shark would let him enter into an honest 
 alliance with anybody. It is particularly worthy of notice 
 that the pilot fish has a round mouth made on the suction 
 principle. The shark, like other tricky, fangry politicians, 
 wants a certain amount of dirty work done, and employs 
 other fish, who want a living (honest, of course,) to do it, 
 and gives them harbor just so long as they are valuable to 
 him, and when they are not they are either kicked away or 
 find themselves taken in. They select their proper tool in 
 the pilot fish, whose suction mouth exactly fits him for the 
 office of stool pigeon. Low politicians everywhere employ 
 the same kind of agents, who have precisely similar mouths. 
 The politicians have large mouths, like the shark, with a glib, 
 grand-flowing, outspoken tongue, that let out little speeches
 
 72 
 
 X 
 
 and narrow policy on great occasions, and blow out great 
 principles on small ones; their pilot fish, on the other hand, 
 have the close, compressed mouth, with a still, whispering, 
 juicy, sucking in style of speech, that makes only a little noise, 
 but presents altogether the most weighty arguments. 
 
 This demagogue of the deep, who thus visited us with the 
 tools of his trade around him, was strongly suspected of hav- 
 ing some dishonest designs on the ship. A line, with a hook 
 and piece of salt pork, was thrown out to him, which he very 
 greedily took in, but declined being taken in himself, and 
 went off with both hook and bait to chew at his leisure, think- 
 ing perhaps, with some other disappointed victims, very well 
 of the inducement held out, but not so favorably of the result 
 realized. We saw no more of the shark. As for the pilot 
 fish, they doubtless found out that they had paid their re- 
 spects to the wrong cabin, and were "gone suckers." Un- 
 fortunately for them and their employer, they came into the 
 presence of an admiral, who has an abhorrence for sneaking 
 politicians, who, as a man and an officer, is distinguished for 
 the practical and comprehensive patriotism of always doing 
 his own duty faithfully and ably, and expecting all who are 
 under him to do theirs. 
 
 Another week has gone around, and again it is Sunday 
 night. The sea is dark and forbidding, and preaches to-day 
 a most solemn discourse. 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 THURSDAY, September 30, 1858. 
 
 LIFE ON SHIP BOARD THE COMET. 
 
 This is the last day of the month, on the first of which we 
 sailed, and still we have a long sea journey before us. Our 
 longitude to-day is about 138 degrees, and latitude about 14
 
 73 
 
 degrees. The rain squalls of Sunday last continued more fre- 
 quently through Monday. On Tuesday we lost the wind, and 
 applied steam, which was withdrawn yesterday, when we 
 were favored with a good breeze. The wind, however, in op- 
 position to the current I suppose, made a kind of cross-sea, 
 the effects of which on the body are rather hard to describe, 
 but very easy to feel, as my experience yesterday can testify. 
 The jerking sensation is the most obvious one, as if the ship 
 were struggling between two conflicting forces. Whenever 
 we have them I feel somewhat nauseated, and yesterday old 
 Neptune made me feel slightly the force of his trident, in an 
 uneasy fullness of the head, not at all adapted, however, to 
 the expansion of ideas. The uppermost idea of seasickness 
 is to be left alone, which ashore is usually regarded as selfish 
 or foolish, when it is not heroic or godlike. The desire of soli- 
 tude in seasickness may be attributed to despair as well as 
 anything, I should think, or perhaps to that morbid mental 
 state, when it desires most that which it can least get, and 
 solitude in a ship is rather a dubious thing, such is the com- 
 pression of life. But a searching seasickness and its emo- 
 tions are very different from the slight visitation that I had 
 yesterday. I trust that Neptune has given up his "right of 
 search" in my case, although he will indulge in an occasional 
 "visitation." 
 
 The fresh breeze of yesterday has abated a good deal, and 
 we are not going more than four knots. There is no news 
 aboard, that is none to us, though I dare say you could find 
 some, could you peep into one of the ports and read the daily 
 bulletin of events; see the sights and hear the sounds; the 
 officers discharging their various functions or, when not im- 
 mediately employed with other duties, reading, talking, some 
 sitting forward and through the curling smoke of cigars look- 
 ing ahead into the future, making the next port or, what is 
 quite probable, the last port of all, the snug harbor of home; 
 the boatswain's mates bellowing from the pits of their stom- 
 achs; the gunners continually brushing and cleaning their 
 guns; the carpenters hammering, planing, making, repairing;
 
 the sailmakers overhauling the canvas, stitching, mending; 
 the crew half on duty above, half below, making or shorten- 
 ing sail, scrubbing, rubbing, tarring, painting, eating pork 
 and beans, or salt junk and sea biscuit, or drinking their 
 grog, lying down to sleep or stretched over the decks listlessly 
 idle, one jolly sailor "climbing up aloft," another unfortunate 
 dragging the chains of punishment below; the noisy gather- 
 ing of the ship at general quarters for a few minutes' war; 
 the quiet muster of religious peace and the chaplain's morn- 
 ing and evening voice of earnest prayer. 
 
 All this and much more, we call hum-drum monotony, 
 and such it is, but still it is the monotony of life, and the 
 monotony of life is very much the same thing all the world 
 over, only at sea it is more concentrated and apparent, and 
 you cannot escape from it. The consciousness that we can- 
 not escape from it will make anything monotonous, whether 
 it be the cell of the convict or the whole world of the misan- 
 thrope, if we let such a passive state of the mind control us. 
 It would hardly do for those who are always in jail ashore to 
 go to sea unless they wished to adopt a slow method of sui- 
 cide. The vast freedom of the ocean instills into man's very 
 blood the wholesome theory and practice of restraint. If he 
 is wise, he will be taught its virtue, and love the restraint 
 for the sake of the freedom; if he is foolish, he will hate both. 
 
 For several days past, the men, in their various divisions, 
 have been drilled in the practice of small arms, firing at tar- 
 gets, etc. In two or three instances, through careless man- 
 agement, muskets have been accidentally discharged in the 
 ranks. One ball went into the lower mizzen spar. Fortu- 
 nately nobody was wounded. It is hard work to jnake a 
 soldier out of a sailor. Jack will fight very well himself and 
 in his own way, but he is too careless and independent to 
 think much of forming lines and turning square corners. 
 The ocean rolls in all his movements, and he requires plenty 
 of room to swing. As they do not always see to having their 
 guns half cocked, the front rank stands in a little danger of 
 a fire in the rear, so that they are ordered to load facing in
 
 75 
 
 different directions. Jack's fighting element is not the land, 
 and in a close encounter there would be some fear of his be- 
 ing as dangerous to friends as enemies. But he has done 
 good service in many trying situations where regular troops 
 have effected but little. His bow legs are not quite so well 
 fitted to surrounding difficulties ashore as at sea, but the 
 ocean, which has crooked his legs, has also, if he be a genu- 
 ine sailor, given him a heedless daring, which is sometimes 
 the best discipline. 
 
 SUNDAY, October 3. 
 
 Our longitude at 12 was a little more than 142 degrees, and 
 latitude above 170 degrees. This is 'indeed a Sabbath of rest 
 to us, and a Sabbath to the ocean! We are surrounded by a 
 calm. The Almighty fiat of "peace, be still," moves over 
 the waters, and they cease their trouble. If the sea can be 
 said to have any beauty at any time, it is in the calm and 
 sunshine of a day like this. Ten million rays of light fall on 
 the vast sheet of water, and every ray seems to bring down a 
 little sun. The day looks pale that hangs o'er such a sea. 
 Nothing disturbs this boundless mirror of the deep, but the 
 long round, heavy swells that move noiselessly along, richly 
 burdened with gems of sparkling light. The horizon breaks 
 not the eternal round of blue expanse; the sea prolongs the 
 arching sky, and her placid depths repeat its glory a thou- 
 sand, thousand times to light up the calm for this gentle, 
 Sabbath peace! 
 
 But the great celestial event of the cruise is the comet, 
 whose appearance, I have now for the first time to record. 
 It came flaming along into our system last Friday evening, 
 when our latitude was about 15 degrees, and longitude 140 
 degrees. We are puzzled a good deal to know what comet it 
 is, but suppose it to be the one which was expected the last 
 year. It is undoubtedly apparent to you as to us, and ere 
 this the astronomers have told its story as much as mortals
 
 76 
 
 can. It first startled us a little to the right of Arcturus north 
 of west; but has since been travelling with lightning speed 
 towards the sun. Its bright, beautifully curved tail and well 
 defined nucleus make it far more conspicuous than the comet 
 of 1843, as I recollect it. It appeared at a very fortunate 
 time for us, as we were sadly in want of some striking inci- 
 dent to relieve this tedious voyage, which the officers say is 
 less eventful than any that they have made. We only wish 
 that this erratic wanderer would give us a little of his super- 
 fluous speed. The loss of ten knots an hour would not trou- 
 ble him at all, and be of great service to us. But the majestic 
 traveller of the sky not only gives us no aid, but, in the minds 
 of the sailors, will undoubtedly be the cause of all our calms 
 and whatever bad luck may betide us. 
 
 These light winds are to be regretted, as the long passage 
 will have a tendency to shorten our stay at the Islands, which 
 we look forward to as presenting more attractions than any 
 of the South American countries on the Pacific coast. Their 
 very name awakens an interest in the breast of every lover 
 of religion and science. The cross of Christ has there been 
 carried with world renowned success; navigation points to 
 them as the place where Cook fell, and began the last great 
 voyage to eternity; and earth's central fires find there their 
 grand outlet in the immense crater of Kilauea. This last 
 great wonder some of us are looking forward to as the one 
 which will most attract our interest, and we hope to visit it. 
 Our stay will be so short that we fear a disappointment. 
 
 I must make a short story to-day. I begin to feel the 
 length of the voyage, the want of exercise, and perhaps the 
 want of fresh, wholesome, invigorating food. My strength is 
 getting short, as well as the stock of provisions, and I must 
 shorten my talks with you accordingly. I regret that I can- 
 not or do not write more feelingly to-day, but neither the 
 glory of the comet nor craters of burning lava, I fear, can 
 impart new elasticity and fresh zeal to a body so thoroughly 
 salted; so I will throw myself on your forbearance, knowing 
 full well, that you can sympathize with me from your own 
 Pacific experience.
 
 77 
 
 SUNDAY, October 10. 
 
 Another week has gone with its light breezes, and still we are 
 over two hundred miles northeast of Honolulu. The mountain 
 slopes of Hawaii (or Owyhee), however, were first dimly seen 
 through the clouds yesterday, and to-day their outlines are 
 much better defined. We have been sailing by this island 
 all day, about thirty or forty miles off from it. The distance it 
 is difficult to estimate, from the great obscurity of the island. 
 In the morning the summit of Mauna Kea was partially visible, 
 towering above the trade wind clouds, but very indistinct. 
 We have now been out forty days in this wilderness of waters, 
 which within two or three days was the length of our passage 
 to Rio. This must be one of the longest passages on record 
 from Callao to the Islands, and will not help the reputation 
 of the Merrimac, although the trades this side of the line have 
 been remarkably light. During the last week I doubt if we 
 have averaged a speed of three knots. To-morrow we shall 
 probably raise the steam, as we cannot invoke the winds, and 
 arrive at Honolulu on Tuesday. I would gladly enlarge, but 
 do not feel like sitting at the desk longer than is absolutely 
 necessary; so I can only state facts in closing this long jour- 
 nal letter. 
 
 TUESDAY, October 12. 
 We anchored off Honolulu this morning. 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 
 THURSDAY, November 4, 1858. 
 
 As I stated in my last long letter, which I sent from Hono- 
 lulu by way of the ship John Marshall, bound for San Fran- 
 cisco, we arrived at that port the twelfth of October, after a 
 tedious passage of 42 days from Callao. We approached the
 
 78 
 
 Islands in pleasant weather, but they were so obscured by 
 clouds that we could see only portions of them, and generally 
 at too great a distance to distinguish much. While passing 
 Owyhee, the largest of the group, by arising earlier than usual, 
 I had a distant view of the summit of the Mauna Kea, its 
 highest land, towering above the clouds, that covered nearly 
 all its base, about fourteen thousand feet. Through the glass 
 I could distinctly see the volcanic rocks, that surround its 
 crater, not now in an active state. Further to the south in the 
 dim distance, was the rounded, dome-like summit of Mauna 
 Loa, which seemed like a gentle elevation compared with 
 Mauna Kea, and yet it falls below it only one or two hundred 
 feet. Its top, or rather a large part of its surface, is an im- 
 mense dome of bare volcanic rock and lava. Not far from 
 this volcano is the great crater of Kilauea, at the compara- 
 tively moderate elevation of four thousand feet. These moun- 
 tains are usually more or less covered with snow, but I could 
 see none on Mauna Kea. 
 
 Passing Owyhee, we came opposite Maui, which we saw 
 with more distinctness, and then Molokai, with its dark basal- 
 tic rocks, which, in a part of the island, rose in steep cliffs 
 from the sea. We passed along near enough to see with the 
 naked eye a beautiful cascade, whose silvery stream con- 
 trasted finely with the black rock, and seemed to fall from 
 the clouds that hung above and along the brow of the preci- 
 pice. 
 
 The islands did not present that tropical appearance, which 
 I might have been led to expect from their location had I 
 not been informed of their character before seeing them. This 
 is partly due, I suppose, to their volcanic origin. In some 
 places the aspects were very similar to those of Terra del 
 Fuego. But in other places, which we did not see, the eternal 
 summer has spread her glories. As we approached Oahu, on 
 which Honolulu is situated, the first impression was not favor- 
 able to its fertility, having before us, as we did, a rather deso- 
 late outline of elevated coast, and particularly Point Diamond, 
 with its immense crater, long since extinct, shaped like a
 
 79 
 
 truncated cone with furrowed sides entirely destitute of vege- 
 tation. But as we came nearer, the distant mountains and 
 hills began to give some indications of greenness, so refresh- 
 ing to eyes tired with the infinite blue. After rounding Point 
 Diamond, Honolulu, with its little fleet of whale ships, came 
 into view. Although the bright sunshine was somewhat too 
 dazzling to designate forms and colors, both high and low- 
 land assumed a greener hue and along the beach on our right, 
 several rows of the color palm were visible with their nod- 
 ding crests. The town itself appeared a good deal embowered 
 in trees, and aside from the native huts, that were scarcely 
 seen in the distance, looked like some of our smaller American 
 cities. It is very pleasantly located along the shore and, for 
 little more than a mile, through a delightful valley, that leads 
 up among the mountains. Although we were too far off to 
 get anything more than a general impression of the place, 
 yet long before we let go our anchors, there were two or three 
 objects standing out so boldly from the landscape, that it 
 was impossible to mistake their character. These were the 
 churches and their spires chiefly attractive above all things 
 else, its white walls shining in the sun, was the large native 
 church. In everything save size, perhaps, it looked as if it 
 might have taken its flight from one of our New England 
 villages. Like too many of its prototypes at home, it did 
 not appear to be distinguished by architectural beauty; its 
 little pointed spire was not quite in harmony with the large 
 proportions of the building, and in other respects a regard for 
 a great first want, rather than an after coming taste, was ap- 
 parent even at that distance. But it was no time nor place 
 for criticism. 
 
 Only a few weeks before we left behind us the more costly 
 and elaborate structures of Lima; temples not of religion, 
 except as they hide it from the world rather than manifest 
 it, where there is a "visible presence" of everything that re- 
 lates to the eye, and a visible absence of the soul. How dif- 
 ferent appeared that bright, ample edifice before us in the 
 distance! It was just the object that the stranger would ex-
 
 80 
 
 pect to see prominent in a place, that better than any other 
 illustrates the power and worth of missionary labor. To our 
 eyes it embodied a history as well as a faith. It suggested 
 not merely the zeal and patience of pious missionaries, but 
 the social and political blessings gathered around it. It arose 
 before us in the distance both a temple to God and a pillar 
 in the Hawaiian state, which its redeeming virtues created. 
 But it also had an interest more personal to ourselves. As- 
 sociation touched it with the first glance of the eye, and it 
 consecrated itself anew by reminding us of home! 
 
 Unfortunately we could not anchor in the harbor proper, 
 such is the draught of the Merrimac. The harbor is deep 
 enough in itself, but the passage through the reef, that en- 
 closes it, is not. This reef is composed of a coarse species of 
 coral more or less mixed with shells, and with its passageway, 
 which is deep enough for ordinary vessels, is very conven- 
 iently located to form a quiet and well protected harbor with- 
 in. Outside we lay exposed to the sea, with its heavy swells, 
 which rolled grandly over the reef and then found their level 
 in the calm waters within. Not far from our anchorage was 
 a floating buoy projecting from the sea, with a bell attached 
 to its top, swaying with the waves, and ringing forth its 
 somewhat doleful alarm to warn the mariner of the dangerous 
 reef. Under other circumstances its tone might have had 
 the quiet soothing sweetness of a tinkling cow bell in an even- 
 ing of June; but mingled with the deep under note of the 
 rolling surf, it sank quite below a lullaby of rest into a sol- 
 emnity of a wakeful lament issuing from the disturbed spirit 
 of the dangerous waters. 
 
 SUNDAY, November 7. 
 
 I have not seen the chart to-day, but we are so much be- 
 calmed that I presume our position does not vary much from 
 that of yesterday, when our latitude was about 34 degrees 
 north, longitude 136 degrees west. The winds were light
 
 81 
 
 through most of last week, and for a few days past we have 
 been almost forsaken by them. The weather has been cool 
 and bracing; the sky continually heavy with sluggish, leaden 
 clouds giving a sombre cast to the sea. Although we are 
 about eight degrees south of Boston latitude, our weather is 
 very similar to that of New England at this season. The 
 cool air, although a little uncomfortable at times, has a good 
 effect on the bodily condition of all on board, and I regret 
 that we are to leave it so soon for the heat of Mexico and 
 Central America. Its good effects are particularly percepti- 
 ble at the mess table. Fortunately we were able to lay in a 
 good supply of stores of all kinds at Honolulu, particularly 
 of fowl and sheep, which will keep us from the famine as- 
 pects of the table in our last forty-two days' voyage in the 
 wilderness of waters. Among other stores, we have a good 
 stock of the old-fashioned, striped, crooked-neck squashes. 
 They hang in a graceful festoon by the side of the ship, over 
 one of the boats. Their appearance is certainly not alto- 
 gether man-of-war-like, and forms quite a singular contrast 
 to the black, threatening iron mouths of thunder beneath 
 them. But still I suppose some of the American boys would 
 think this quite within our line of duty, as it is nothing more 
 or less than showing the world that the United States, in 
 their vulgar parlance, are "some pumpkins." I fear, how- 
 ever, that the world will not be much the wiser for such peace- 
 ful thunder, as they will have to go below on entering port. 
 
 These plain, familiar, wholesome vegetables, as they hang 
 like victories of peace over the port of grim-visaged war, nat- 
 urally remind me at this season of the fragrant autumnal 
 harvests, frosty mornings and the gorgeous drapery of the 
 forests, as well as of Thanksgivings and pumpkin pies. The 
 pies are usually squash, I think, but pumpkin seems to be 
 the generic name of common use. I am more reminded of 
 the last New England luxury, as I have not often seen a 
 genuine pie of any sort out of New England or her influences 
 and associations. If it was associated with Christmas in the 
 jealous eyes of our Puritan forefathers, it was doubtless con-
 
 82 
 
 sidered by them too good to be banished. Perhaps there 
 was something in the peaceful and happy disposition of its 
 upper and lower crusts that was significant of that true basis 
 of civil and religious freedom which they came over to estab- 
 lish. It certainly seems to be true, that where you see the 
 strongest love for freedom you see the best pies! They have 
 none at all in Spanish America and you may judge from this 
 what sort of freedom they have! But whither is my pen 
 carrying me? I have not yet landed you in Honolulu, and 
 surely I did not sit down to-night to give you a disquisition 
 on pie crust, particularly as at this season you are enjoying a 
 much more improving discussion of the subject at home. 
 
 The day after our arrival at Honolulu, notwithstanding it 
 rained, I went ashore to call on friends, and engage lodgings 
 during the few days we were to stay. As I approached the 
 town and landed on the coral built wharf, I was more struck 
 with the American look of the place and of the people, with 
 the exception of the natives, until a closer familiarity made 
 known several foreign accents. As it was raining, I did not 
 stop on my way, but proceeded directly to visit my friends, 
 whom I found pleasantly located in the north part of the 
 town in a house that had all the characteristics of a well-kept 
 American home, and which commanded a fine view of the 
 valley and mountains towards the north. 
 
 As it continued raining, and suffering somewhat as I did 
 from our long voyage over, I remained in the house the great- 
 er part of the day, stopping to dine and making the acquaint- 
 ance of all its very pleasant and agreeable inmates. The ad- 
 miral passed a week at this house, and as he has quite a large 
 number of old friends and acquaintances in Honolulu who 
 called on him, it was the centre of happy, informal, social 
 gatherings. Mr. Ladd, the proprietor, and his wife are na- 
 tives of Maine. It is due to them to say that their hospi- 
 tality, which brought many of the officers around such a table 
 as they have seen nowhere else in the Pacific, and introduced 
 them to the kind-hearted, intelligent circle of Americans that 
 met there, did very much to make us feel that at Honolulu
 
 83 
 
 we had got home again among relations and friends, from the 
 discomforts of a South American cruise. I arranged with 
 Mr. Ladd to take my meals as a boarder at his table; but I 
 found afterwards that my friends were before me and made 
 me their guest. 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MEERIMAC, AT SEA, 
 THURSDAY, November 4 (concluded). 
 
 DESCRIPTION OP HONOLULU, ETC., ETC. 
 
 Having engaged a large, airy, comfortable room in a pleas- 
 ant mansion near by, adorned with neatness, that rare furni- 
 ture in the Pacific world; with no pitching or rolling motion 
 on it; with a spacious hall and verandas on two sides, look- 
 ing on pleasant, home-like scenes around, or up to the moun- 
 tains or off to sea (where I didn't trouble myself about look- 
 ing) ; with a bed large enough to turn over in and find a fresh 
 place; with windows that looked out on nature rather than 
 nine-inch shell guns, and that let in her sounds and balmy 
 odors, rather than bilge water and cursing; with a nice, good- 
 hearted landlady beneath from the Emerald Isle and a young 
 daughter, herself quite a gem; having done all this, and I 
 thought it something of an achievement, I returned with one 
 of the officers to the wharf, where we found that we were too 
 late for the sunset boat, and hired a couple of Kanaekas, as 
 the male natives are called, to row us alongside. 
 
 MONDAY, November 8. 
 
 We are still becalmed. Latitude 33 degrees north, longi- 
 tude 132 degrees west. Weather cool and cloudy. 
 
 When I returned to the ship after my first visit on shore, 
 I intended to go back the next morning and take possession
 
 84 
 
 of my room; but unfortunately a change of air and diet, the 
 sudden transition from pork and beans to an extraordinary 
 consumption of watermelon, with some other imprudences 
 perhaps, produced a violent reaction, keeping me afloat all 
 day when I thought that I was going to get rid of the sea. 
 The next morning, however, although quite weak from this 
 visitation as well as from the voyage, with the passed assistant 
 surgeon, who went to take a room opposite mine, I went 
 ashore again and located myself in my pleasant quarters. 
 Before our arrival in Honolulu there had been an absence of 
 rain for a long time, which I suppose accounted for the dry 
 appearance of the country on our approach. But from the 
 day after our arrival till our departure there was a constant 
 succession of sunshine and showers that were doubtless very 
 necessary for vegetation, although not so convenient for some 
 of us who desired to take a closer view of its picturesque 
 valley, mountains and volcanic ruins; so that during our stay 
 of a few days we saw almost everything in the distance ex- 
 cept Honolulu itself, and that certainly came very near to us, 
 and gained rather than lost enchantment by its familiarity. 
 But if we could not conveniently visit the points of interest 
 around Honolulu, it was certainly a source of pleasure to 
 gaze upon the varied landscape spread out before us; the 
 beautiful valley of the Nunanu, gradually ascending among 
 the mountains, with its smooth, firm, graded road marked, 
 till it loses itself among the hills, by tasteful residences sur- 
 rounded by ample grounds; the mountains themselves with 
 their sharp outlines and different shades of green and gather- 
 ing clouds, now darkening both hill and vale with their storms, 
 now touched by the rainbow pencils of the sun; nearer to the 
 town and overlooking it, the "Punch Bowl" crater, its earthly 
 fires long since gone out, but now faintly imitated by its little 
 battery that occasionally blazes forth an Hawaiian salutation. 
 The valley of Nunanu, I think it is called, leads up to the 
 Pali or precipice, which is the great, and almost the only 
 point of interest in the vicinity. It is about eight or nine 
 miles from town, I think, and terminates the valley road.
 
 85 
 
 Nothing but the incessant rains prevented me from visiting 
 it. The valley ends abruptly at the precipice, which is ele- 
 vated about eleven hundred feet above the level of the sea, 
 and overlooks a large valley called Palikoolau, I believe, that 
 is walled in by a vast amphitheatre of hills and bounded in 
 the distance by the boundless ocean. On each side of the 
 precipice arise two mountains very near it about three thou- 
 sand feet; the Konahuaneic (if my spelling is correct) on the 
 right, and the more rough, rocky precipitous Nunanu on the 
 left, with its vast basaltic front to the north, forming a part 
 of the stupendous wall of the valley. 
 
 There is a tradition connected with the place that many 
 years ago a portion of the forces of two chiefs who were fly- 
 ing from the victorious warriors of Kamehameha, the founder 
 of the present dynasty, in the haste of their retreat were pre- 
 cipitated down this steep, and, it is needless to say, destroyed. 
 This seems wonderful indeed, but such places generally have 
 some wonderful story connected with them, as if they were 
 not sufficiently marvelous in themselves. Some minds seem 
 to be able to mount up to the wonders of the Divine hand 
 only by the aid of some strange, startling human association; 
 and for such it is necessary that the towering precipice should 
 become a little more towering by somebody tumbling down 
 from it, or, if this is not convenient, by some Sam Patch vol- 
 unteering his services to distinguish both himself and the 
 place. I would say nothing to discredit the Hawaiian tradi- 
 tion, for authentic tradition is entitled to great respect, but 
 I would detract from that morbid appetite, which makes such 
 tradition necessary to give its air of doubt and mystery to 
 those places that are so boldly stamped with the power and 
 truth of God. 
 
 The view from this precipice is said to be one of peculiar 
 grandeur. I regret that I could not visit it, so violent were 
 the trade winds that blew through the gorge, and so constant 
 were the rains. Had I felt as well in the hot air of Honolulu 
 as I do now in this cool invigorating temperature, neither 
 rain, heat or wind, I think, would have kept me back.
 
 86 
 
 So American is the appearance of Honolulu itself that I 
 need say but little of it. It has a foreign and native popu- 
 lation of about eight or nine thousand, I should think, al- 
 though I am writing without any statistics before me. From 
 its transient character I infer that it is not easily determined. 
 The foreigners consist principally of Americans, most of whom 
 are from New England and New York I was informed. They 
 certainly, as a general thing, are of a superior character to 
 many of our countrymen in South America who have gone 
 there from the over stimulated growth of California, and in 
 some instances, perhaps, from her overawing justice. 
 
 The streets of Honolulu are sufficiently wide and regular, 
 and as far as I saw, clean. The dwellings are about as vari- 
 ous in style as in towns of similar size in New England. They 
 are generally adorned with spacious verandas, and the better 
 class surrounded by ample grounds, dark with the shade of 
 the tamarind and other tropical trees, or decorated with 
 flowers, among which the geranium, I noticed, has a very 
 luxuriant growth. The public buildings are generally neat 
 and substantial, and many of them, as well as some of the 
 private, are mainly constructed of coral, which is taken from 
 the flats in a soft state and hardened by exposure. Con- 
 spicuous among these are the Bethel and Sailors' home, pre- 
 sided over by the Rev. Mr. Damon from Massachusetts, a 
 man zealous in doing good to the sailor, and whose little semi- 
 monthly paper is a welcome seaman's "Friend" in the cabin 
 of every whaler, circulating with every Pacific wind and cur- 
 rent the missionary zeal and practical philanthropy of its 
 editor, who not only watches after and prays for the sailor 
 while in port, but sends him forth with a plain little chart to 
 guide him in all his wanderings. The churches are made on 
 the New England model. I saw but one old mission church, 
 whose high thatched roof, after the native style, looked rather 
 disproportioned in size, if not in weight, to the rest of the 
 edifice; but it belongs to a time of vastly disproportioned 
 means and ends, and, if it does not rise in harmony, beauty 
 and strength, it towers clear above the reach of the critic's 
 eye in the region of lofty faith and enduring purpose.
 
 87 
 
 The grass huts of the natives are more or less scattered 
 through the town, although they are chiefly in the suburban 
 parts. Their Malayan features seem to be a sort of compro- 
 mise between the negro and Indian, some of them approaching 
 the one, and some the other. Many of them have received 
 a good common education in the missionary schools, and re- 
 side in well-built houses. Under missionary instruction their 
 costume has undergone an entire change. Formerly they 
 did not trouble themselves about the revolutions of fashion, 
 or, making a literal application of scripture, give themselves 
 any anxiety as to wherewithal they should be clothed. In 
 regard to the women, the tight fitting covering of nature, 
 which was once nearly all their costume, has not been changed 
 exactly, but has been made the basis of additional improve- 
 ments. They now go to the opposite extreme, and wear 
 loose, flowing gowns, tight at the neck and enlarging down- 
 ward. If they have any symmetrical beauty of form, this 
 style of dress is not well calculated to show it off; but I sup- 
 pose the missionaries thought that they had made exposition 
 enough under the old style to last through all coming genera- 
 tions. The dress is well adapted to the climate, and carries 
 with it a sweeping denunciation of tight lacing. 
 
 The men are generally properly clad. Now and then you 
 may see a fellow going along who hasn't had his faith fully 
 established in the modern and usually received doctrine of 
 pantaloons. Such, however, are probably in a hopeful way, 
 and while not wholly confirmed in belief, prefer to keep their 
 understandings open to conviction. The natives have a harm- 
 less, good-natured look, and the results of the missionary la- 
 bors clearly show their susceptibility of improvement. There 
 are educated men among them possessing business habits, 
 good sense and character. Living easily and cheaply, they, 
 of course, have a strong passion for sport. Formerly they 
 spent much of their time in the water, but are not quite so 
 amphibious now. Horse riding seems to be the principal 
 out-door amusement, particularly with the women; and it is 
 no one-sided matter with them, as they have ther long calico
 
 88 
 
 dresses so arranged that they can use their legs in the most 
 natural way. They race and ride furiously, and with their 
 high colored drapery, and sometimes with chaplets of flowers, 
 they make the streets and plains of Honolulu quite animated. 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MEBBIMAC, AT SEA, 
 WEDNESDAY, November 17. 
 
 THE MISSIONARIES OP THE SANDWICH ISLANDS, ETC., ETC. 
 
 Latitude 23 degrees, 58 north longitude, about 113 degrees 
 west. Since Saturday we have had a fair fresh wind from the 
 north and have advanced rapidly on our course. On Mon- 
 day the cool and agreeable, though cloudy weather, left us, 
 and we are again having a foretaste of the tropics. We are 
 fast approaching Cape St. Lucas in Southern California. But 
 before going farther I will go back for a moment and take 
 affectionate leave of the Sandwich Islands. I regret that 
 Honolulu is the only part of them of which I can speak, and 
 our flying visit does not permit me to speak of that except 
 very vaguely. In visiting a place under such circumstances, 
 nothing is easier than to be mistaken, and a longer residence 
 would perhaps correct or qualify some of my impressions. 
 Where men and things are so essentially American, of course 
 we expect to see an American civilization with its virtues, its 
 vices and its frivolities. If we see such a place attired some- 
 what in its holiday garb, we certainly do not wish rudely to 
 tear away the outer folds of its attractive drapery, and ex- 
 pose faults, which, if they are studiously kept concealed, are 
 to that extent acknowledged and sacred from our scrutiny. 
 We would not look into the corners and byways of the social 
 state and seek to get a peep at all its scandals, jealousies, 
 trifles and small concerns, which we might or might not pre- 
 sume to exist, as a part of civilized weakness, as we were in- 
 clined, but rather would we go into the front doors that are
 
 89 
 
 thrown widely open to us, and see the civil virtues and man- 
 ners that make the state, whose very light may reveal to us 
 blemishes enough, without our going into the darkness to 
 find them. 
 
 Without any further comments in particular, I can hardly 
 close this long and broken letter without a word in general as 
 to the results of the missionary labors. These are too well 
 known in the United States for me to do anything more than 
 simply to bear my testimony as an eye-witness for a brief 
 day or two, in an important part of their field of operations. 
 Many of the missionaries, who were sent from the United 
 States several years since, are now quite independent of the 
 home society, and either preach to societies that wholly or 
 partially sustain themselves, or are engaged in teaching or 
 business more or less identified with the missionary enter- 
 prise. 
 
 It requires but little observation and reflection to be con- 
 vinced that the Hawaiian state with its young but strength- 
 ening civilization, weak and humble though it be, is founded 
 on the works and has been upheld by the hands of these pious, 
 self-sacrificing Christians. The strength of its corner-stone 
 and the simplicity of the edifice come from their depth and 
 plainness of purpose. That little mission church of twelve or 
 fourteen men and women, organized in the vestry of Park 
 street church in Boston, in the autumn of 1819, to be trans- 
 planted to these then barbaric isles, went forth, like the Pil- 
 grims of old, with the noiselessness of principle and power, 
 with only the quiet melody of hymn and peace of prayer, 
 too lowly to catch the lofty ear of earth, but trumpet tongued 
 to the condescending Heavens, and established itself in the 
 isles of the sea, to start the work of Christian revolution. Be- 
 fore the retarded but steady progress of that little band the 
 idols fell, and heathens turned from stones to God. Guided 
 by their hands and springing up in their pathway arose an 
 Earthly State, while their lips were yet teaching the simple 
 natives of that kingdom which is not of this world. Watch- 
 ing over its growth, they gave it a just and benevolent policy,
 
 90 
 
 and educated the rulers to execute it. Not only have they 
 enlightened these waste places with Christianity, but made 
 them nurseries of its teachers, from which more than one 
 dark skinned missionary has gone forth to labor. 
 
 But all this is common knowledge. It is not, however, so 
 generally known that, great as were the obstacles, that the 
 low condition of native heathen placed before the mission- 
 aries, the fire in the rear by the heathen of civilization was 
 far more formidable. For every missionary of light we have 
 sent out a thousand missionaries of darkness. The same 
 vessel that takes out the humble teacher of God may have 
 enough of the essence of the devil in it to overturn the work 
 of his life. It is not so much to be wondered at that Chris- 
 tianity has made the heathen what it has in one place, as 
 that civilized wickedness has made them no worse than it 
 has in all. "The heathen," as Channing says, "abhor our 
 religion, because we are such unhappy specimens of it." The 
 American missionaries and their labors in the Sandwich Islands 
 have suffered not only from the brutal lusts and passions of 
 common sailors and those who control them, but from the 
 jealous interference and hostility of foreign officials high in 
 authority; sometimes from Englishmen who have either gone 
 beyond their power, or taken advantage of their position to 
 act for themselves; always from Frenchmen, who from the 
 first, have been uniform in their insolence, by dictating to 
 the Hawaiian government the terms of admission to their 
 two missionaries, Jesuitism and rum; from so-called Ameri- 
 can citizens; on one occasion at least, from an American naval 
 officer, who, by his conduct, showed that he carried with 
 him the brute force of his country and nothing else. But, 
 fortunately for the English and American naval services, 
 there are instances of an opposite character; and our recent 
 visit there made it clear that there is one American officer, 
 who, as captain of the Sloop-of-war Boston, visited the is- 
 lands in 1843 in a critical juncture of their affairs and who 
 now as admiral was welcomed back again not only by mis- 
 sionaries, but by all who knew his name and cherished his 
 virtues.
 
 91 
 
 Doubtless there is another side to this picture, but almost 
 too obscure for notice. The missionaries are quite human, 
 and it is not to be supposed that in carrying the virtues of 
 Christians before them they have left the faults of men be- 
 hind them. Unacquainted with civil affairs, as in a great 
 measure they are, and having a large influence over both 
 rulers and people whom they have reared up, it is not to be 
 wondered at that they should sometimes err by pressing a 
 point too far; that they should fail in trying to adapt the 
 various and shifting policy of men and of states to the too 
 rigid requirements of their principles, which they can better 
 shape into politics by beginning at the foundation in shaping 
 men; that in the manners and minor morals of the people 
 they should in some respects lose sight of time, place and 
 circumstances in placing their own old habits and associa- 
 tions as Americans on the same level with their convictions 
 as Christians, and in bringing them along as stiff and formal 
 guides among the smaller, yet important matters of partial 
 tastes and innocent customs. 
 
 Now all this and much more is not to be wondered at. 
 The missionaries from their education are not, perhaps, in 
 the common acceptation of that much abused term, practical 
 men; but in its higher use none are more so. That term 
 "practical" seems to swing in some undefined region between 
 heaven and earth. It may not be out of place to remark 
 that no duly authorized convention has yet determined what 
 sort of a creature the "practical man" is. There seems to 
 be such an animal running at large and yet nobody can ex- 
 actly describe it. Until the question is settled it will be a 
 matter of grave doubt in some minds, whether the man who 
 saws off his neighbor's leg with an unprofessional handsaw, 
 or the surgeon who is running after his professional tools, has 
 the most practical turn. Handsaw would probably get a 
 good many votes. In the meantime it may be observed that 
 a man's blunders in doing anything are not apt to prevent 
 his being called practical, so long as he does not profess to 
 do it. But let him take up the profession and then blunder 
 a little, see how quick his practical head will come off.
 
 92 
 
 The missionary professes to do good, and occasionally 
 blunders, think some in too much or too little zeal, or mis- 
 directed zeal, or, what is often really meant, in being a mis- 
 sionary at all. Such will give him no credit for the good he 
 does, but on the contrary, let his blunders stand as a balance 
 against him. Such men are practical in their folly. A good 
 deed is the most practical of all things; and doing it is the 
 most practical action of life. It is the most practical, if for 
 no other reason than that which so reflects upon us all, be- 
 cause to be done habitually it requires so much practice. 
 Not familiar with it, as too many of us are, it is not sur- 
 prising that we should be reluctant to attribute it as a prac- 
 tice to those who make it a profession. We are such poor 
 missionaries at home that it becomes natural to mistrust 
 those who go abroad. It is this professing, this public ad- 
 vertising to do good where we cannot see it, and will not take 
 the trouble to hear of it, that, with some individuals, destroys 
 all its practical value. We talk of "the heathen at our doors." 
 Who and what made them so? If the vices of civilization 
 makes its tens of heathen at home are its virtues so weak 
 that they cannot spare here and there one to convert mil- 
 lions of heathen abroad? We lack confidence in our mis- 
 sionaries for professing to do good abroad, too much because 
 they profess it, forgetting that organized action must be ac- 
 companied by some profession; but when will our own un- 
 organized individual efforts teach us that faith in the pro- 
 fessed goodness of others best comes from acted goodness in 
 ourselves? 
 
 But without regards to the limits of this letter I am run- 
 ning fast and far into disquisition. We should think a little 
 more of the practical value of missionaries to the world, if we 
 could only get rid of their practical wants. 
 
 These cursory observations are prompted more particu- 
 larly by what I saw in the Sandwich Islands, and, however 
 general may be their application, I am the more induced to 
 make them in connection with the missionaries there, as I 
 can speak of their labors there from witnessing their results.
 
 I seek not to defend the whole class in all regions, some of 
 whom perhaps, from personal unfitness or other cause, have 
 not been true to their high calling in Christ, and made their 
 works manifest. I would defend only the good from the in- 
 discriminate attacks of fault finding men, who will be more 
 able to judge correctly of the missionary zeal of others when 
 they learn better what a thing it is to bear the cross themselves. 
 The devoted missionary has a reward for his virtues in heaven, 
 if not on earth; as for his errors of judgment, God requires 
 no apology; man deserves none. 
 
 U. S. STEAMER MERRIMAC, AT SEA, 
 
 SUNDAY, November 21. 
 
 Latitude about 18 degrees north, longitude 103 degrees 
 west. There was one thing in leaving the Sandwich Islands 
 which I ought to describe if I could, and that is, my most 
 magnificent disappointment in not seeing the great crater of 
 Kilauea, in the island Owhyhee. In the height and depth 
 of that disappointment there is a sublimity which, for ought I 
 know, would surpass that of the crater itself, with its immense 
 lake of liquid fire. It was the great natural phenomenon that 
 I desired above all things to see in the Pacific; but I am not 
 suffered to get at the climax of my aspirations. As it is, 
 however, it is the Great Tremendous Unseen; the Immense 
 Hole in my Pacific experience, which cannot be filled, and, 
 certainly, such wonders as these are worth anybody's con- 
 templation. Besides it will furnish an excellent dark ground 
 in memory to throw into relief the bright, pleasant associa- 
 tions of Honolulu. And then there is a practical view of the 
 disappointment that makes its awfulness appear more favor- 
 able, and that is, I have not got my feet or my nose burnt, 
 or something worse perhaps, and you are saved the trouble 
 of reading two or three more sheets of letter.
 
 94 
 
 We are gliding along pleasantly this beautiful Sabbath, as 
 we have been for the last week. The weather is fair and fills 
 every sense with pleasure. The nights are brilliant with 
 moonlighted glory, and Jupiter and Venus look luminously 
 forth from the eastern and western heavens. We have been 
 in sight of the mountainous Mexican coast all day, but it is 
 too far off to be seen with any distinctness. The great vol- 
 cano of Colima, twelve thousand feet high, I have taken a 
 long look at to-day with the eye and glass, but its great dis- 
 tance and the hazy atmostphere do not favor my researches. 
 Colima is said to be an active volcano, and I desire as far as 
 possible to fill up that great gulf of disappointment; but 
 Colima doesn't seem inclined to get into any such hole at 
 that! 
 
 Several birds have come off from the coast to greet us. 
 They are most welcome visitors; but the mischievous sailor 
 boys give the little wanderers no peace. There is one con- 
 stantly climbing the rigging to catch them, and I have come 
 to the conclusion, that it is well that boy came to sea, or he 
 would have robbed all the birds' nests in his township. That 
 delicate little thing, not so beautiful as interesting, the com- 
 mon sparrow that jumps about our doors flits around us for 
 harbor and protection after his rash venture at sea in an un- 
 favorable wind. And what is more remarkable, that wise 
 bird of Minerva, the owl, last evening made us one of his 
 nightly visits. To-night, or rather this evening, two or three 
 of them appeared on our ropes and spars, looking down with 
 their grave visages on our sublunary life and progress. I do 
 not wonder that these oracular looking guests of ours should 
 fly from miserable, wretched Mexico, if they have any of their 
 old reputed wisdom left, and come under the stars and stripes, 
 notwithstanding the formidable talons of the American eagle. 
 But the poor creatures will find the exchange not altogether 
 an agreeable one, as Young America is after them too. A 
 few of us have what we call an "Owl Club," keeping rather 
 a late watch, such pleasant nights as this, on the little stem 
 deck; and of course we feel quite honored by this visit of
 
 95 
 
 our Patron Saints. No sooner did the president of the club 
 make his appearance between eleven and twelve o'clock last 
 night than two pairs of big eyes were hovering over us to wit- 
 ness the organization of the club and see if we had our eyes 
 open wide enough to take in all the important matters of the 
 day! 
 
 We had an excellent discourse to-day from the chaplain. 
 As he stood among the heavy guns preaching his earnest 
 words of truth and soberness, I could but wish that, as they 
 left his mouth, they might be thundered forth from those 
 black, iron mouths of war over the length and breadth of 
 priest-ruined Mexico, whose richly gifted land was dimly 
 visible. 
 
 The weather is becoming quite warm, and, as it is rather 
 uncomfortable sitting here at my desk I think that I will go 
 up on deck with the moon and the moon-eyed owls. 
 
 We are about three hundred miles from Acapulco. 
 
 TUESDAY, November 23. 
 
 The latitude and longitude I have not seen to-day, but we 
 are about fifty miles north of Acapulco, running along under 
 steam within three and four miles of the shore. It is really 
 delightful to sit at the port and look upon the mountain 
 coast of Mexico, covered everywhere with green forest down 
 to the rocks or the beach sand that line the shore. But be- 
 yond those misty, green hills what deeds of cowardice, treach- 
 ery and wrong are probably on this day done! With the 
 glass we can easily see the principal features of the land- 
 scape, the finely modeled palms; the rocks jutting out here 
 and there from the dark green woods; now and then the 
 light, filmy smoke curling up above the trees from some In- 
 dian huts; a light yellow streak occasionally in the midst of 
 the rich masses of green, indicating a land-slide; and some- 
 times a blue, misty summit in the interior, that overlooks 
 this land of beauty and sorrow, which, like Peru, is paying
 
 the penalty for the past and avenging the blood of the mur- 
 dered Montezumas. 
 
 I have other writing to do and must forbear. We shall 
 probably come to our anchorage in Acapulco harbor to-mor- 
 row morning, lying outside to-night. Acapulco is a small 
 place, and like all the rest of the places on the coast, is un- 
 interesting as possible. The harbor is a fine one, and the 
 scenery around is said to be attractive; very much like what 
 we see to-day. It formerly had quite a commerce with the 
 East, which gave it some importance. But there are prob- 
 ably five, if not six, mail bags there from the United States 
 waiting for us! This important fact gives it a great present 
 importance in our eyes, particularly as we have been without 
 mails for three months. If Acapulco has lost her commerce 
 of merchandise, she certainly enjoys just now a magnificent 
 commerce of the affections! We go there for our mails, and 
 to communicate with the United States. We shall remain 
 but a few days, and then probably go to Central America 
 where we have been ordered. I will leave a space to announce 
 our arrival.
 
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