It happened that I had gone out for a walk on the morning when this good news reached Boston. On my return I found Dr. Dix waiting, his eyes full of tears, to tell me that the Tennessee had been heard from. The numerous congratulations which I now received showed how general had been the fear of the threatened mishap, and how great the public interest in Dr. Howe's safety. In later years, I made the acquaintance of Hon. Andrew D. White and his most charming wife. Though scarcely on the verge of middle age, her beautiful dark hair had turned completely white, in the unnecessary agony which she suffered in the interval between her husband's departure and the first authentic news received of the expedition. It was a year later than this that Dr. Howe was urged by parties interested to undertake a second visit to Santo Domingo, with the view of furthering the interests of the Samana Bay Company. He had been so much impressed with the beauty of the island that he wished me to share its enchantments with him. We accordingly set sail in a small steamer, the Tybee, in February of the year 1873. Our youngest daughter, Maud, went with us, and our party consisted of Maud's friend, Miss Derby, now Mrs. Samuel Richard Fuller, my husband's three nieces, and Miss Mary C. Paddock, a valued friend. Colonel Fabens, a man much interested in the prospects of the island, also embarked with us. The voyage was a stormy one, the seas being exceeding rough, and the steamer most uneasy in her action. After some weary days and nights, we cast anchor in the harbor of Puerta Plata, and my husband came to the door of my stateroom crying, "Come out and see the great glory!" I obeyed, and beheld a scene which amply justified his exclamation. Before us, sheer out of the water, rose Mount Isabel, clothed with tropical verdure. At its foot lay the picturesque little town. Small carts, drawn each by a single bullock, were already awaiting the unloading of the cargo. We were soon on shore, and within the shelter of a tolerable hotel, where fresh fruits and black coffee restored our sea-worn spirits. The day was Sunday, and I managed to attend a Methodist service held in a commodious chapel. The aspect of the little town was very cheerful and friendly. Negro women ran about the streets, with red turbaned heads and clad in trailing gowns of calico. The prancing little horses delighted me with their swift and easy motion. On the day subsequent to our landing, we accepted an invitation to breakfast at a sugar plantation, not very far from the town. A cart drawn by a bullock furnished the only vehicle to be had in the place. Our entertainers were a young Cuban and his American wife. They had embarked a good deal of capital in machinery; I regretted to learn later that their enterprise had not been altogether successful.