‘dear Sir:— I have received your several letters from Philadelphia. As a rebel privateer has burned several American ships, it may be as well if you can have your bills of lading indorsed as English property; and have your cargo certified to by the British Consul.’Such nice little missives as these, written from one city of ‘grand moral ideas,’ to another city, whose ideas were no less grand or moral, quietly instructing ship-masters to commit perjury, were of great assistance to me, when, in the classical words of the New York Commercial Advertiser, I had a ‘Yankee hash’ to deal with. On the 29th of March we crossed the equator. The event is thus recorded in my journal: ‘Crossed the equator at five P. M. in the midst of a dense rain-squall, with lowering, black clouds, and the wind from the south-west. We were in chase of a sail at the time, but lost her in the gloom. It rained all night, with light airs and calms. We have experienced a southeasterly current, setting at the rate of a knot and a half the hour, for the last twenty-four-hours.’ We made our crossing a little farther to the eastward than usual—26°—on purpose
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