I suppose that it was from a part of the returns from this profitable shipment that the owners of the goods founded the Soldiers' Home at Noroton, Conn., during the civil war. I must record here a curious incident. It was in this home that a soldier carved a most elaborate design upon a cane which he gave to me, showing in brief outline the whole of my history. It was a wonderful piece of work, and I have kept it as a souvenir of the regard of this soldier in the home that was probably founded in part with the proceeds of the first great shipment of canned goods into Australia, and of my part in introducing this new trade into the South Seas. I had the opportunity of meeting some famous and curious people in Australia. On one of the celebrations of the 17th of March, I met a great many Irish patriots, among them Smith O'Brien, John Martin, and Donohue. I was an invited guest, and sat down with more than two hundred of the most prominent Irishmen of the Australasian colonies. When Smith O'Brien was in an Irish jail in '48, I asked him for his autograph. I have made it a point to collect the autographs of all the famous men and women I have met, and now have, perhaps, the finest collection of autographs to be seen in this country. O'Brien immediately wrote on a card the following verse: "Whether on a gallows high, Or in the battle's van, The fittest place for man to die, Is where he dies for man." This sentiment of the Irish poet was peculiarly appropriate for men, who, like the patriots and "rebels" about me, were facing prison or death at every hour. I shall bring together here some incidents of my life in Australia that are not closely connected with other events there. We made some tremendous profits in Melbourne, the sort that makes one's blood tingle, and transforms cool men into wild speculators. I have already mentioned the profit of 200 per cent on the cargo of canned goods. On a cargo of flour from Boston, 7,000 barrels, we made a profit of 200 per cent, the flour selling for £4 sterling the barrel. This flour had been shipped to us through John M. Forbes, of Boston, for Philo Shelton and Moses Taylor, the millionaire of New York. When I returned to New York in '57, during the panic, I met Taylor in Wall Street. He must have been in terrible need of money to keep his head above water, and he at once said to me: "Why did you charge me 7-1/2 per cent commission for handling that cargo of flour in Melbourne?" I looked at him in astonishment. He had forgotten the enormous profit he had made on the shipment, and remembered now only the small matter of the commission he had been compelled to pay.