her black mass within the bright line of the horizon. "There she comes !" ran in quick whispers through the ship. As she neared us, the all-absorbing question was, whether the secretary of the commodore was in her. On this depended our last and only hope of letters from home. She passed us at no great distance; but we tried in vain to discover, through our glasses, the individual for whom we were looking. No sign of such a person appeared among the few passengers who paced her deck. I went below; I had seen enough of steamers, and never desired to see another. The third cutter was called away, and directed to proceed to the steamer ; but that seemed only blotting out the last ray of possibility. In twenty minutes, an officer rushed below with the surprising intelligence that the secretary of the commodore was in the boat alongside. I was not long in reaching the deck, and could hardly credit. my own eyes when I saw him come over the gangway; and still less when he placed in my hands some twenty letters from my family and friends. Our advices were within about thirty days from the United States. The commodore received a large mail; Capt. Du Pont, and nearly all the officers, got letters from home. For this intelligence, with files of papers from the press, we were indebted to the arrangement of Commodore Stockton, carried through at his pri vate expense. We spent the greater part of the night in reading our letters and penning answers to them, as we were to sail the next day for the Sandwich Islands. These details may not be interesting to some, especially those who have not been absent from home a week without intelligence; but let more than half a year of their brief life circle round without any information, and they will appreciate the significance of such seeming trifles. The surest source of sympathy is found in an experience of the same calamity. The Incas of Peru, who invested their imperial sway with the mandates and sanctions of a supreme theocracy, are in their graves. Their palaces and temples remain; and in these vast monuments are shrined the evidences of their departed grandeur and power. The solid blocks of porphyry which pave the great public way from Quito to Cuzco, and the table-land of Desaguadero, still invite the footsteps of the moving masses, and still roll back the sunbeams in showering gold. The dominion of the usurper who entered this peaceful realm with the cross and chain, has at length been. broken. It lies in ruins, amid penitent tokens of guilt and sorrow, around the sacred ashes of the Incas. The fiery deluge of revolution which has swept this fair land since, has also passed away. The calm hearts of two millions of freemen remain. They bend the knee to no iron despotism, no consecrated pageant of power. They have rights which they assert in the unrestricted freedom of the elective franchise. Their progress to constitutional freedom and repose has been tumultuous and wild, but they are within sight of their goal, and will reach it as assuredly as the wave of the rolling deep its destined strand. But our anchors are up, our courses set, and we are away for other shores. Land of the Incas, fare thee well! For thee my fancy twines A rarer, richer coronel Than glitters in thy mines,— A ray that blasts the hope of kings. 299 CHAPTER X. PASSAGE FROM CALLAO TO HONOLULU. DEPARTURE FROM CALLAO.—THE RUM SMUGGLER.-SUNSET.-SEA-BIRDS. "Huzza! for Otaheite! was the cry, As stately swept the gallant vessel by, The breeze springs up, the lately flapping sail SATURDAY, MAY 9. We rousted our anchors this afternoon from the bed in which they have slumbered for the last six weeks, and stood out to sea from the bay of Callao. The breeze freshened as the sun set, and before our mid-watch was out, only the rock of San Lorenzo was seen lifting its naked peaks into the light of the moon. Farewell, Callao! I have seen quite enough of your destitution and dirt, your pickpockets and parrots, your fish and your fleas, your brats and your buzzards. I wonder not that nature in sore disgust sunk your progenitor from the light of the sun; and unless you reform, you may expect to share the same fate. Through your chambers the dolphins will sport; your forsaken harps will thrill beneath the wild fingers of the mermaid, while, far above, the hoarse wave pours on the rocks your death-dirge. The sea-gull only will know the place of your rest, and only the poor pelican mourn that you are not. SUNDAY, MAY 10. crew all present. Subject of the sermon, the temptations of the sailor. A chaplain in the navy has one advantage over his brethren on land. He has his parishioners in the most compact of all possible forms, and every one present when he officiates. In making his official visits he has not to ride around among five hundred families located at all points of the compass. He cannot stir without coming in contact with them. But he has this disadvantage; in the vicissitudes of a sea life they are extremely apt to break away from his constraining influence. They may be brought back again, but it is too often through the deepest self-inflicted humiliation. Divine service: officers and I was called down from Lima to see a sailor who was supposed to be dying. As I came to the hammock in which he was lying, he told me he did not think he should live, and that he felt unfit to die. He made a free and frank confession of the errors of his life, and desired me to pray that he might be forgiven. I tried to lead his thoughts to the cross and to the fountain of Christ's blood. To these his con |