board a ship to work my passage to my native land! And this was done by the orders and authority of a man who was bound by his official duties to render all necessary and reasonable relief to Americans in distress!

Were this a solitary instance of the kind I should hardly indulge in a passing remark. But I have reason to believe that such cases, caused by the inhumanity or culpable neglect of American consuls in foreign ports, are not uncommon. If such proceedings take place under the eye and authority and apparent sanction of a man of high character and acknowledged worth, what may we not expect from consuls of a different character;—from men who never knew a noble impulse; whose bosoms never throbbed with one generous feeling?

Our government is not sufficiently circumspect in the appointment of consuls. The office is an important one, and should be given to men capable of faithfully executing the duties. It cannot be properly filled by persons whose time is engrossed by business of their own, by political partisans, or men who have no practical knowledge of mercantile affairs. American consuls should also be supposed to have some sympathy with every class of American citizens, and capable of enjoying satisfaction in relieving the sufferings of a fellow-creature. All consular fees should be abolished, and the consul should receive from the government a yearly compensation, graduated on the importance of his duties.

The Lady Madison was considered a large ship,- being four hundred and fifty tons burden. She belonged to Jacob Barker, now a resident of New Orleans, but who was at that time in the zenith of his mercantile prosperity, and the owner of ships trading to all parts of the globe. Captain Swain was a native and resident of Nantucket, an excellent sailor and a worthy man; and the ship was navigated by a crew composed mostly of young and active Americans. The Lady Madison had sailed from Cronstadt

bound to New York, but met with disasters which compelled her to put into Liverpool for repairs.

On joining the Lady Madison I found there was a very natural but unjust prejudice existing against me on the part of the officers, which it would be difficult to overcome. I was thrust on board by the consul against their wishes, and was entitled to ship room and ship's fare, which was reluctantly granted. I must, however, admit that my appearance, with a costume of the "Persian" cut, pale and sickly visage and a halting gait, an air of dejection caused by misfortune and diffidence, was not prepossessing, but verged strongly on the vagabond order. It is, therefore, not surprising that when I stepped on deck I was looked upon as an intruder, and instead of being greeted with smiles and words of encouragement, of which I was greatly in need, received looks which would have chilled an icicle, and frowns which made me feel all my insignifi

cance.

I should probably have found little sympathy among the sailors had I not met among them an old acquaintance. A young man named Giddings, on hearing my name mentioned, regarded me with a degree of interest that surprised me. After staring at me a few minutes, he inquired if I had not once lived in Rockingham county, New Hampshire. On my replying in the affirmative, he introduced himself as an old schoolmate, a native of Exeter, from which, having chosen a sailor's life, he had been absent for years.

I rejoiced at finding a friend, and soon realized the truth of the good old proverb, "a friend in need is a friend indeed." Through his influence and representations the crew were disposed to look upon me in a favorable light. He gave me the privilege of using his berth and his blankets during my watch below; he loaned me a monkey jacket in stormy weather, and shared with me his "small stores," of which he had a good supply. More than all this, he encouraged

me to keep a stout heart and "stiff upper lip," assuring me that all would come right in the end. Had it not been for that kind-hearted young man, my condition on board the ship must have been wretched. I have often witnessed the disgraceful fact, that when a man is down every one seems determined to keep him down! If a poor fellow receives a kick from fortune, every man he meets with will give him another kick for that very reason!

Captain Swain never deigned to notice me in any way, and the chief mate followed his example so far as was practicable. The second mate's name was Cathcart. He was a man of inferior capacity, ignorant, and coarse. As I was looked upon as a sort of "black sheep" in the flock, and was in the second mate's watch, that officer imagined he could, with impunity, make me a target for his vulgar jokes, and practised on me a line of conduct which he dared not practise on others. A day or two after we left Liverpool, he took occasion, when several of the crew were standing by, to make my rather quaint name the subject of some offensive remarks. My indignation was roused at such ungentlemanly conduct, and I retorted with a degree of bitterness as well as imprudence that surprised myself as well as others.

"My name?" said I: "you object to my name! Look at home! My name is a quiet name, a sensible name, surrounded with pleasant associations, and easily spoken, which is more than can be said of yours. Ca-a-th-ca-r-r-t! There is neither sense, meaning, nor beauty in that name. Why," continued I, making strange grimaces, "one cannot speak it without twisting the mouth into kinks and cuckold's necks without number. Ca-a-th-c-a-a-rt! I would sooner be called Tantarabogus."

This turned the laugh against him. He made no reply, but no longer annoyed me with his coarse jokes, and the respectable epithet of "Tantarabogus" stuck to him until our arrival in New York.

The ship Lady Madison left Liverpool about the 17th of March, 1812. The wind had been blowing a long time from the westward, with occasional gales which prevented vessels from getting to sea; and we sailed in company with a large fleet of merchant ships at the commencement of a change of wind. We left the Mersey with a fine breeze and soon passed the headmost vessels in the fleet. Our ship was large, a fine model, newly coppered, well provided with sails, and having left part of her cargo in Liverpool was in good ballast trim, and slipped through the water like a fish.

For eight days this easterly wind continued, the ship sometimes carrying top-gallant sails and a fore-topmast studding sail, and sometimes running directly before the wind under double-reefed topsails and foresail, progressing at the rate of ten, eleven, and eleven and a half knots. Chronometers were unknown in those days, and lunar observations, owing to the cloudy weather and other causes, could not be taken during the passage. It is, therefore, not remarkable that under the circumstances, and with a heavy sea following the ship, the judgment of the navigators was at fault and the ship overran her reckoning.

On the eighth day after the Lady Madison left the dock, the atmosphere being hazy and the temperature unusually cool, I was standing on the lee side of the forecastle when something afar off on the bow caught my eye. It looked like a massive fortress on a mountain rock of crystal. Its appearance, different from any thing I had ever seen on the ocean, excited my wonder. Could it be a cloud? I pointed it out to one of my watchmates, who, being familiar with such appearances, instantly called out, "Ice, ho!"

There was a commotion throughout the ship. "Ice!" exclaimed the captain, rushing up the companion-way, spyglass in hand. "Ice! where-away? "Tis impossible!

We cannot be near the Grand Bank!"

The ice island was now clearly perceptible, looming up through the thin fog, "a fixed fact," which could not be shaken. We were on the eastern edge of the Bank of Newfoundland. In eight days the ship had run nearly two thousand miles. Although this may not be considered a remarkable feat for a modern clipper of giant proportions, it was an instance of fast sailing and favorable breezes seldom exceeded in those days.

Had the wind continued unchanged in strength or direction after we reached the Bank, we should have made the passage to New York in twelve days. But its force was spent. Instead of feeling grateful and expressing satisfaction at such a noble run, the captain, and I believe every man on board, as is usual in such cases, grumbled intolerably when the change took place! Head winds and calms prevailed, and ten days elapsed before we greeted the Highlands of Neversink. We passed inside of Sandy Hook on the 4th of April, 1812, having made a passage of eighteen days from Liverpool to anchorage off the Battery!

While beating through the Narrows we passed the ship Honestus, which sailed from Liverpool about forty days before the Lady Madison left that port, and had been battling with head winds the whole distance across the Atlantic.

CHAPTER XVII.

ADRIFT IN NEW YORK.

WHEN the ship Lady Madison arrived in New York there was quite a stir among the mercantile community. Congress was engaged in important deliberations, and it was whispered, that in secret session, an em