This circumstance often brought Johnson in contact with Mr. Adams, who knew that he was one of the crew of Captain Jones, and consequently must have been in the conflict of the _Serapis_ and _Richard_, which having occurred so recently, was a subject of general conversation. Many of the sailors frequented the hall of Congress, and Johnson became interested in listening and observing what was so new to him that he was a daily visiter. When the members found that the sailors were part of the crew of Captain Jones, they frequently left their seats, and came over to them to inquire the particulars of the recent engagement. Mr. Adams particularly engaged the attention of Johnson; to use the veteran’s own words, he says, “a nervous sensation seemed to pervade the patriot as he listened to the description of the battle given by the sailors, fire flashed from his eyes, and his hair seemed perfectly erect;” he would clasp his hands, and exclaim, “What a scene!” During the time they remained in Philadelphia, General Washington arrived, and was presented to Congress; Johnson was present and listened to the introduction by President Hancock, and the reply by the general. Some days after, when the sailors were in the hall, Mr. Adams brought General Washington to them, who kindly shook each by the hand, calling them “Our gallant tars!” and asking them questions relative to the many successful adventures they had recently achieved. Johnson soon after left the navy, and engaged in the merchant service for some years, but eventually returned to it again, where he remained till, near the end of his life’s voyage, age obliged him to ask repose and protection in that asylum provided for the grateful and worn-out mariner. * * * * * THE MAIDEN’S LAMENT FOR HER SHIPWRECKED LOVER. BY WM. ALBERT SUTLIFFE. I heard a maiden by the tumid ocean— The day had gone and night came on apace— Chanting a hymn to the spray’s chiming motion, Starlight and moonlight, and the sea’s dim face. And, as the moon looked down, her song up-stealing Fell thus upon my ear: “Hope of my hope, Gone o’er the swelling waters, whence this feeling That thou art dead? I give my fancy scope, And see thee hideous, with Death’s image o’er Those features I have loved, but know no more. Hope of my hope, gone o’er the swelling ocean, What cavern holds thy form— Cast by the furious storm?