There was so much in blockade-running that was attractive to the adventurous, that we are hardly surprised to learn that officers of our navy engaged in the work, wholly forgetful of the neutral position to which their country’s policy bound them. The remonstrances, however, which were made to our government on that subject, and the Gazette Order which they elicited, would probably prevent those who had an official status from taking their capture so phlegmatically as the youth who took his passage out in a blockade-runner with the intention of enjoying a tour through the Southern States, and who, when the vessel was captured, wrote home saying that he would now explore the Northern States, ‘which would do quite as well.’ One can well imagine the tiptoe of expectation to which every one on board would rise as the Bermudas sank into the distance, and the time drew near which was to decide the fortune of their enterprise. How warily they lie off until the evening favours their approach, and then, with every light but the engine-fires extinguished, speed quietly but rapidly past the large looming hulls of the outer blockaders. But they have yet to run the gantlet of the inner cordon of gunboats, and now comes the real crisis of their venture. Shall they steam with cunning effrontery slowly and ostentatiously close past a gunboat? The plan offers a chance of success, for some of their watchers have once been blockade-runners themselves, and in the darkness the similarity of build might deceive. No; they perceive what seems to be a practicable gap in the line, and driving their engines to their utmost pitch, they rest their fate upon their speed. Yet they are detected: there goes a heavy swivel gun; the alarm is raised, and now a perfect fusillade rages round the intruder. But everything is against good practice; only one shot takes effect in her hull, that going clean through the bow; and with little other damage, the daring vessel steams into Wilmington with a valuable cargo of liquors, leather, and iron.