The colony of foreign diplomats and military officers, British, French, American, Spanish, and all the rest, accepted the entertainment of the American officers and sailors as a social responsibility. And they were quick to recognize the fact that in the war-time American Navy the “gob” was as likely to be a young gentleman of manners and education as the ensign or the lieutenant. Tactfully and easily the barriers of shipboard discipline and ceremony were ignored for the time, and the invitations to teas, garden parties, receptions, and theatres seldom raised lines of distinction between the youthful seaman with the flat cap and the rolling collar, and the gold-striper severely buttoned to the neck in his service blouse. This might have been awkward in some circumstances, but the crew of the _Corsair_ knew how to carry it off. They met the loveliest girls of Lisbon and were gallantly attentive, as was quite proper. The American Minister to Portugal, Colonel Thomas Birch, fairly adopted the whole ship’s company. They might have been so many long-lost sons and nephews. The Legation belonged to them as long as they stayed in port, and he appeared to enjoy it all as much as they did. Captain Ross, who was representing Gaston, Williams, and Wigmore of New York, was ready with help, advice, and hospitality, and as a host and friend the _Corsair_ found him true blue. The American Consul-General, Mr. W. L. Lowrie, was also most courteous and friendly and took particular pains to make these American exiles feel at home. In letters written home by one of the petty officers, you may read between the lines and conclude that there might have been worse fates than to be marooned in Lisbon for seven weeks: _December 24th._ You cannot imagine what a sensation it is to find yourself all of a sudden walking down fine, broad streets with rows of palm trees, and geraniums and other flowers in bloom. The leaves are falling now and the rainy season is beginning, but as they have had no rain in five months we ought not to complain. There are many picturesque street scenes, flocks of turkeys driven by small boys with long sticks, and if you want a turkey you halt the procession and pick out your bird and carry it home under your arm; little donkeys almost smothered in vegetables are led gingerly along;—everywhere women are selling fish which are carried in baskets upon their heads. Lottery tickets are shoved at you from every corner. A crowd gathers wherever we American sailors stop or loiter, and we are great curiosities. At the best hotel, the Avenida Palace, several of us ran into a bazaar for the benefit of the French and Portuguese war widows and orphans. The American Minister, Colonel Birch, a fine old boy, introduced us to all the girls, English, French, and Portuguese. There were some beauties among them, and although it is a long time since I talked to a girl I sailed right in and had no trouble.