altering level of the tug. The ladder got broken--two or three ropes snapped--a deal of profane swearing took place--but it got over, too. "The tug brought the news--the Confederates had defeated the Federal forces at Manasses Junction--three thousand killed and wounded-- prisoners taken--artillery captured, &c., &c. I went up to one of the Misses Preston and hoped the news was happy--for she seemed delighted at what she had heard, and which then I had not. She said she 'did not quite know--it was for the South.' I replied that such news hardly could be happy for both sides, and, unless the news were _peace_, was unhappy for all the world. She did not quite agree--and then told me the tidings. But what a strange effect in such a little ship- confined community! "The Southern people collected together in delight--the Northern in anger and disgust. The former predicted an early possession of Washington for the Palmetto flag; the latter talked of raising half-a- million of men, and 'crushing out' the South, right amain; while, as in any disaster, there is always someone to be blamed, many of the Northern men laid all the responsibility upon the 'lawyer-generals' and 'store-keeping-colonels,' who had assumed commands for which they were never fit. It is a sad, unhappy quarrel! "But I must describe our circle to you. First, I should tell you that I have the honor to sit at the Captain's table, and on his left hand--a Miss Ewart sitting on his right. Our set consists of the Captain, Judkins--the right and left-hand passengers as aforesaid--Col. Preston, Mrs. Preston and the three Misses Preston. Mr. Stone, Col. Stewart, Miss Warde, Mr. Still, and Mr. Hutton, of Sheffield, and his daughter. We have 134 passengers, _only_, on board--a slack muster, caused by the evil times in America--and all were at dinner on Saturday, the day we sailed, but the wind, rain, mist, and misery of the next three days sent many of them below, and for those days we had plenty of elbow-room. The weather, however, improved, the sun got now and then out, though it has, so far, been anything but warm, and out came the sick people again in renovated appetite--some epicurean and dainty, many others with a ravenous, all- devouring maw, reminding one of the 'worm that never dieth.' "Now, Col. Preston is the late U.S. Ambassador to Madrid, where he has resided officially, and with his family, for the four years of the Buchanan Presidency. He is now replaced, I think, by a Mr. Falkner. He is a tall, stout, gentlemanly man, but, while a perfect gentleman in his conversation, and having less of the American accent than most Americans, his manner is somewhat ungainly--perhaps owing to his make, which is large and a little inclining to the unwieldy.