There were on board sixteen officers of the English army who were expecting to debark at Cape Coast Castle and were bound for the Ashantee territory of the interior, which, as you probably know, has been for several mouths the scene of another great uprising of the natives almost as formidable as that of thirty years ago. When we reached Sierra Leone, we also took on board more than two hundred native soldiers, as deck-passengers. I am glad to testify that among these sixteen officers there were several real gentlemen, in the American sense; others were tolerable; and there were still others. They were not pleasant fellow passengers. We were looking forward with some dread to their last night on board; and they also were looking forward to it, but with feelings entirely different from ours. We were expecting to reach Cape Coast Castle on Thursday. But for the last sixty hours the captain, without telling anybody, used the reserve power of two knots an hour, increasing our full speed from ten to twelve knots. Accordingly, it was with astonishment and unmixed joy that on Wednesday morning, coming on deck, we read on the bulletin: “Cape Coast Castle this morning at eight o’clock!” They had not time to get drunk. But, in any case, the heartrending scene which we witnessed soon after we had anchored would probably have sobered them. Five missionaries of the Swiss _Basle Mission_ were brought on board in a most pitiful and awful condition. Among them was that great and widely-known veteran, Mr. Ramseyer, whom I had long wished to meet. Mrs. Ramseyer was also in the party, besides two other younger women and another man.