The most prominent individual of the native division of passengers, was Arif Effendi, a pious Moslem of the new school, who had a great horror of brandy; first, because it was made from wine; and secondly, because his own favourite beverage was Jamaica rum; for, as Peter Parley says, "Of late years, many improvements have taken place among the Mussulmans, who show a disposition to adopt the best things of their more enlightened neighbours." We had a great deal of conversation during the voyage, for he professed to have a great admiration of England, and a great dislike of France; probably all owing to the fact of rum coming from Jamaica, and brandy and wine from Cognac and Bordeaux. Another individual was a still richer character: an American Presbyterian clergyman, with furi-bond dilated nostril and a terrific frown. "You must lose Canada," said he to me one day, abruptly, "ay, and Bermuda into the bargain." "I think you had better round off your acquisitions with a few odd West India Islands." "We have stomach enough for that too." "I hear you have been to Jerusalem." "Yes; I went to recover my voice, which I lost; for I have one of the largest congregations in Boston." "But, my good friend, you breathe nothing but war and conquest." "The fact is, war is as unavoidable as thunder and lightning; the atmosphere must be cleared from time to time." "Were you ever a soldier?" "No; I was in the American navy. Many a day I was after John Bull on the shores of Newfoundland." "After John Bull?" "Yes, Sir, _sweating_ after him: I delight in energy; give me the man who will shoulder a millstone, if need be." "The capture of Canada, Bermuda, and a few odd West India Islands, would certainly give scope for your energy. This would be taking the bull by the horns." "Swinging him by the tail, say I." The burlesque vigour of his illustrations sometimes ran to anti-climax. One day, he talked of something (if I recollect right, the electric telegraph), moving with the rapidity of a flash of lightning, with a pair of spurs clapped into it. In spite of all this ultra-national bluster, we found him to be a very good sort of man, having nothing of the bear but the skin, and in the test of the quarantine arrangements, the least selfish of the party. Another passenger was an elderly Mexican senator, who was the essence of politeness of the good old school. Every morning he stood smiling, hat in hand, while he inquired how each of us had slept. I shall never forget the cholera-like contortion of horror he displayed, when the clerical militant (poking his fun at him), declared that Texas was within the natural boundary of the State, and that some morning they would make a breakfast of the whole question.