The ships Thracian and Persian were built in a yard about where the foot of Brewster street now is, by James Collins, master carpenter, who had already built the ships Brenda and Dromo for Arthur French of Boston, a brother-in-law of Abraham Jackson. The Jackson fleet of ships was completed by the purchase in Maine of the Tyrian and the building of the Iconium. Of each of these ships I have something to say. Many a trenail turned out by me in a trenail machine on a Saturday afternoon was put into the bottoms of the Thracian and Persian, and many a cracker and slice of cheese have I eaten in the ship house at their launchings. Capt. Frederick Robbins was transferred from the brig Rhine to the Persian, Capt. Eleazer Stevens Turner from the brig Eurotas to the Thracian, and Capt. Daniel Lothrop Jackson, son of the senior partner of the house, was given the command of the Tyrian. Capt. Turner was eventually transferred to the Iconium, on which ship he was finally succeeded by Capt. William Davie. These ships were first class ships in every particular, and for one or each of them the schooner Capitol was bought in Maine and placed in command of Capt. Richard Rogers, who was sent to Virginia with wood choppers, teams and provisions and a gang of carpenters under Benjamin Bagnall, to get out frames on a tract of timber land, which the Jacksons had bought or leased for the purpose. In December, 1846, I was in Marseilles waiting for a steamer to take me to Genoa and Naples. Having been in Paris away from the sea six months or more, I have never before or since experienced the pleasure which a sight of the Mediterranean gave me. My first excursion from the hotel, after my arrival, was as it would have been at home—down among the shipping. The new harbor had not then been opened, and the ships were made fast with their sterns to the mole. Seeing an American flag at one mast head, I soon read on the stern of the ship, “Persian of Plymouth.” Inquiring of the ship keeper if Capt. Robbins, whom I knew was the captain, was on board, and learning that he was not, I walked along the mole, looking into the various stores, and soon saw him astride a chair, club house fashion, with his arms folded on the back, looking at me as I entered. During the three days I was obliged to wait for my steamer, I spent a half hour each day with him on board his ship. He was soon to sail for New Orleans, and as I afterwards learned he died while on the passage, or soon after his arrival. He was succeeded by Capt. Thomas Appling, who had commanded the Cyclops, who died at sea of yellow fever, and was succeeded by Capt. Lewis Robbins. After leaving Capt. Robbins I walked farther down the mole and read on the stern of a bark flying the stars and stripes, the familiar name, “Griffin of Boston.” I knew Capt. Charles Blake, her owner and commander, who lived directly opposite my grandmother’s house in Winthrop place. His vessel was