While at Payta, the United States sloop-of-war Vincennes, Commander Hudson, arrived in port. The officers frequently dined with Mr. Ruden. By invitation of Captain Hudson, we all dined on board the Vincennes. We were welcomed alongside by a salute of twenty-one guns—a compliment usually conferred upon a consul when he visits ships of the line. We spent the afternoon most agreeably; and the refined hospitality, courteous manners, intelligent and interesting conversation of our host, made us regret the rapidly fleeing moments. It was a beautiful moonlight eve when we left the Vincennes in the captain’s barge, rowed by those men-of-war sailors, dressed with such uniform neatness. Not a ripple disturbed the placid and glossy surface of the water. At night so pure is the atmosphere, that the moon gives a light{79} sufficiently powerful for the purposes of the reader or student who has good eyesight. There is no necessity of burning the “midnight oil;” nature here lights the lamp for the bookworm. So phosphorescent is the water, that every dip of the oars is followed by a stream of light resembling fire. When we were at Payta, we were informed that no rain had fallen during the preceding seven years. We met there a friend from whom we had parted on the broad Pacific, never expecting to meet again—Captain McKenzie. Yes! the pleasant Scotch captain we left on board the Symmetry. Captain Thompson had faithfully fulfilled the stipulation to leave them near the port of Valparaiso. From thence he had taken passage in an English steamer bound to Panama, and from there he would cross the isthmus, proceed to New York, and from there to England. The steamer touched at Payta to remain an hour, and Captain McKenzie stepped on shore to have a view of the town. Nearly the first persons he saw were Captain Lunt and my husband. When he parted from us last, we were bound to San Francisco. Judge, then, of his astonishment at meeting them there. He knew at once some unforeseen calamity had driven them from their course. From previous events his{80} thoughts naturally reverted to fire; and his first exclamation was, “My God! you have been burnt out again!” Too true. All was then explained. There they met, at a port neither of them intended to visit—the three captains who had lost their ships by fire. He paid me a passing visit at the house, then departed on his way to his distant home, to gladden the anxious hearts of wife and children. I have never seen or heard from him since. But, whenever my thoughts revert to him, the recollection is always flavored with old Scotch whiskey.