My official reminiscences are nearly terminated. The latter years of my magistracy were not marked by any important public events or political excitement. In 1861 my health became seriously impaired, and a medical commission of six members reported in favor of my superannuation. My dear friend, Marcus Costello, the attorney-general of Gibraltar, having been apprised that I had been greatly debilitated by bronchitis and pleurisy, sent me a brief note to go out at once, and to say by return of post when he might expect me. In compliance with his invitation, I sailed from Southampton on the 27th of April, in the Peninsular and Oriental Company's steamer, "Delta," and on the 29th we were crossing the Bay of Biscay. My memory reverted to a ballad which I had heard sung by Incledon, descriptive of the fearfully tempestuous state in which that bay is generally found. One of his verses is, I believe, as follows:-- "Loud roar'd the dreadful thunder, The rain a deluge show'rs, The clouds were rent asunder By lightning's vivid powers. The night all drear and dark, Closed round our wretched bark, As she lay, on that day, In the Bay of Biscay, O!" I presume to attempt a description of what I observed in crossing this estuary; and I can truly affirm, that whatever may be the defects of my composition, it does not contain the slightest exaggeration-- "The light-blue sky is o'er us, The dark-blue sea beneath, The wave scarce moves before us, As zephyrs gently breathe. The great unfathom'd deep, Calm as an infant's sleep, Cheers our way, on this day, Through the Bay of Biscay, O! "The mighty steam-ship cleaving The tide, displays her pow'r, The wondrous feat achieving Of fifteen knots an hour; We speedily shall gain A sight of sunny Spain. No delay checks our way Through the Bay of Biscay, O!" When we did attain sight of the Spanish coast, it afforded a very marked contrast to the picturesque views presented by the shores of Ireland and England. There were no towering and precipitous cliffs or verdant slopes to be seen, and almost the only indications of the country being inhabited were some watch-towers, from which in former days warning signals were exhibited to denote the approach of hostile or predatory vessels from Algiers or Barbary. Being totally unacquainted with Transatlantic and Mediterranean scenery, I can exercise a very limited judgment, but of all the marine views I have seen I consider the most beautiful to be the Bay of Dublin, and the ugliest to be the far-famed Trafalgar.