A light westerly breeze blew all the next day. We beat up the bay with fine weather and off Boston light took the steam-tug "R.B. Forbes," which towed us quickly up to Lewis' Wharf, just as the day had ended. I heard a familiar voice through the darkness, and the ship was no sooner fast, than I went over the rail and for two days abandoning myself to the joys of home I tried to forget that there ever was a "Ship Dublin." Then I visited the ship, and the captain at once inquired "Did you notice how it blew last night? I knew it was coming; I'm not often deceived about the weather." I received the compliment of being asked to make another voyage in the ship and the black eyes snapped at my rather peremptory refusal. The owner was offended with me for leaving, and finding that I had suffered in his good opinion by doing so, I ventured after some days, to excuse myself by saying just enough about Capt. Streeter to justify my conduct. He was very indignant, wouldn't allow such a man to sail for him, but didn't see how he could discharge him just then. He would tell him to do differently though. One of the partners remarked, "Oh, they all swear and fight, and Capt. Streeter is the smartest commander we have ever had." He sailed again on another Russia voyage with the old instructions to "use his best efforts to suppress all vice and immorality on board and promote the welfare of his crew." How he did it the following letter from Mr. Wright the mate, written from Cronstadt will tell: