On the 2d of July the squadron got under way for the bay of Yedo, Japan, the “Susquehanna” towing the “Saratoga,” and the “Mississippi” towing the “Plymouth.” The storeship “Supply” was left at the anchorage, no doubt greatly to the regret of the natives, who, gazing from the beach on our departure, hoped that they would not see us again. We rounded the southern end of the island with a heavy swell on, the southwest monsoon prevailing at the time, and were soon heading up the Pacific. Our patriotic remembrance of the return of our great national anniversary was ahead of the people of our own native land; or is it the “Fourth of July” to an American, until the sun of that day has illumined forest, stream, and home, in his own country? At mid-day then of our “Fourth,” when it was yet but eleven o’clock at night of the third, in the United States the large old steamers, and the sailing-vessels in their tow, going dead to windward, dressed with our national ensigns, in latitude 28° 36′ north, and longitude 130° 42′ east, running nearly abreast, fired seventeen guns each, in honor of the day; and the “main-brace” being ordered to be spliced, “Jack” had the opportunity of remembering it in a tot of grog. The next day, by signal from flag-ship, anchor-buoys were ordered to be made of empty casks, the men were exercised with small arms at target-firing, and ship’s company exercised at general and fire quarters, previous to arriving at our port of destination. A believer in omens would have had an opportunity of indulging his credulity, and interpreting, if he could, the meaning of a remarkable meteor which shot athwart the sky on the morning of the 6th of July, and was visible from the decks of the ships, when in two days’ run of the bay of Yedo. It appeared as large in circumference as the crown of a man’s hat. Its body was of the brilliancy and color of molten iron, and glowed as if heated by incandescence, emitting all the while sparks which trailed backward in its passage, like barbs of arrows. Its tail was of a bluish transparency, which extended into an emerald-green hue, terminating in a fiery, smoky bulb, resembling the flame of burning tar. When first noticed, it seemed to shoot upward from a line on a level with our quarter-hammock netting, in the southwest, and so near did it appear to the ship, that for an instant it was imagined to be a rocket from the sloop-of-war Plymouth—at the time in tow of us—and designed to attract our attention. In its passage through the heavens, which occupied the time in which one might count thirty, it described a parabolic curve, illuminating as it went our hurricane-deck and wheel-houses with astonishing clearness, and on reaching a point nearly due north, occupied by a bank of dull roseate cloud, it burst like a rocket and disappeared, leaving those who had the good fortune to see it uttering exclamations of admiration and wonderment, and a rather