glow of the setting sun, and the flag descending though he were rushing along on a platform within the glorious light. Night had come, and another bugle call sounded. All hands marched to the "hammock nettings," on the hurricane deck, where the hammocks are stored during the daytime. Another blast of the bugle, and each man shouldered his hammock of canvas, made up with the blankets in a bundle six feet long, and marched in single file to the forward hatch of the main deck, leading to the forward compartment of the berth deck. As they entered the hatch I noticed that they represented almost every nationality in the world except the Chinese. The hammocks are swung from hooks placed only two feet apart in the iron deck beams. Thus some of the hammocks are closer to the deck than others, presenting a zigzag appearance as viewed from the ends. The bugle at nine o'clock is the signal for "turning in," and soon all below was quiet and still, with hammocks swinging from every conceivable nook and corner, around the base of the forward turret, near the dynamos and in the passageways. The vessel is well provided with blowers and exhausters, however, which keep the air below decks tolerably pure. The night was brilliant with starlight, and the lights on Sandy Hook, like a line of luminous sentinels, extended far out into the sea. At four bells (ten o'clock) the light in the wardroom, or officers' quarters, was turned out, and silence prevailed. On awakening, at six o'clock in the morning, the rolling of the ship and the thumping of the engines told that the anchor had been weighed and we were steaming southward. The sun shone brightly, and the waves were sweeping the deck from stem to stern. Going to sea in a monitor of the low, free-board type is an experience unique in itself, and differs essentially from a cruise in any other type of vessel. The berth deck was awash the moment we got outside Sandy Hook-the seas several feet in depth, breaking over the spar deck and throwing the spray high over the forward bridge, soon penetrating by tons through the turret chambers, battened hatches, hawse stoppers and battle plates, flooding the forward compartments and making a terrible mess in that part of the vessel. We continued to ship a heavy sea with every roll of the vessel, which dashed completely over the turrets, burying the nozzles of the great ten-inch guns, and clearly demonstrating the impossibility of firing them at sea. Owing to the intense heat below, the only place left for the men to stay was the hurricane deck, which is supported by stanchions about eight feet above the main deck. Indeed, at sea one feels as out any visible support, and beneath him the turbulent waters ever changing from a deep green to a sparkling white as they dash themselves against the various objects on the deck below. The entire cruise was replete with novel experiences. To the unaccustomed eye the ever-changing panorama of the sea and sky was one continual delight. As the day progressed the man on watch. above the pilot house, by use of the telescope, sighted a sail off our starboard bow. This was the flagship of the South Atlantic Squadron, the Chicago. As she passed us, about a mile distant. on our starboard beam, a salute of thirteen guns was fired, we receiving seven in return. For this purpose two of the four breech-loading rapid-fire guns, placed on the hurricane deck, consisting of two six-pound Driggs Schroeder guns and two three-pound Hotchkiss guns, were used. The white, square-rigged sails of the Chicago looked grandly beautiful as she gradually disappeared from view. In the afternoon the wind became more brisk and the sea more rough, the waves breaking over the deck with greater violence. The prow of the vessel, with the two large white anchors perched one on each bow, would bury itself in the side of an approaching wave, which, breaking over the forward decks into a sea of foam with patches of green, swept across the battened battle hatches, struck the great forward turret, and glancing off its top, splashed heavily against the windows of the pilot house at the forward end of the hurricane deck about fifteen feet above the water. Standing on the after bridge at the other end of the hurricane deck, we could see the after deck first submerged in seething foam, and then rise on the crest of the next wave with the snow-white after turret at its centre Trailing far astern, the two lines of white converging paths on the ocean's breast merge into one, then slowly fade away and lose themselves in the broad Atlantic. Late in the afternoon a Norfolk boat with a long line of black smoke streaming from the stack passed us and dipped its ensign, to which we replied with three blasts of our whistle, it being too moist on deck to get down to our flagstaff. down to our flagstaff. A little later the officers on duty in the pilot house sounded one bell to the engine room, and the engines were immediately. slowed down; as two bells followed, the engines stopped, and we drifted in the trough of the sea, the ship rolling heavily. An examination of the packing between the base of the forward turret and the deck was made. The continual submersion of the deck had caused the water to find its way below in such streams that all hands were kept busy at the pumps to prevent everything from being flooded. Ouly slight repairs could be made at sea, however, and as four bells sounded we were again going ahead rapidly. The pleasant breeze of the day developed into a stiff wind toward night that whistled above the roar of the water sweeping the decks. At night, by the electric masthead light and the lights in the pilot house, aided by the stars fitfully shedding their dim light, we could see the whitecapped rollers breaking on our bows and dissolving themselves into hissing white foam. As we were at sea in a ship practically untried before, and of a type never noted for its seaworthiness, the indications pointed to a bad night. We remembered the sad fate of the original Monitor off Cape Hatteras, and this, together with the liability of a storm at sea in our disabled condition, gave cause for painful anxiety. Watch is kept continually day and night on the bridge above the pilot house, and the helmsman is constantly informed of the positions of passing vessels, lighthouses, etc. The navigator carefully studies the chart of the waters through which he is sailing and lays out the course, the helmsman changing the course, and therefore the reading of the compass, as directed by the navigator. At five bells I left the pilot house and crawled down the engine-room hatch from the hurricane deck to the engine room, then passed around the base of the after turret on the berth deck to the wardroom country, and retired for the night. At three bells of the middle watch I was suddenly aroused from my slumber by a messenger from the officer of the deck requesting me to report immediately at the pilot house. I arose quickly, and found it a new experience to tumble into my clothes and rush on deck into the darkness and amid the roar of the ocean. The steering gear needed attention, and I hastened to the tiller room, the temperature of which was 140°. The trouble remedied, I returned to the hurricane deck for fresh air, and remained in the pilot house until eight bells, being recompensed by seeing a most beautiful sunrise at sea. As the ship was rolling heavily the forward turret commenced to work loose, and the situation became so serious that the captain decided to put in behind the Delaware Break water, for repairs. We were then off Cape May, and in a short time the lightship, with its two large spheres at its mastheads, was sighted. We soon anchored in the still waters behind the breakwater between it and Cape Henlopen-an immense sand bank strewn with wrecks. One large two-masted schooner that had not yet gone to pieces lay beached high and dry, a skeleton among skeletons that in their destruction had dragged many a poor soul down with them. One of the cutters was lowered, and with the flag flying from her stern was rowed to the lighthouse and up to the town of Lewes, with the mail and telegrams. The Miantonomoh carries on her davits one steam launch, one gig, one whaleboat, four cutters, a dingy and a skiff, in which are continually kept supplies of water and provisions to be ready for any emergency. It is a rule of the Health Department of the United States Navy that no vessel is allowed to take on board any fresh water after leaving United States territory, and that distilled water must be used as soon as the fresh water gives out. us. The darkness of night again descended upon The sky was illumined with vivid flashes of lightning, and we were surrounded by the red lights of the lighthouses appearing one by one on the horizon. The anchor was raised, and leaving the capes of the Delaware, the monitor again steamed down the coast. As it was necessary to pick up a wreck buoy which lay in our course, the forward search light, mounted on a tower above the pilot house, was brought into requisition. A beautiful white column of light, one end of which inclined upon the water about a quarter of a mile ahead, streamed from the reflector, and was slowly moved from port to starboard, from starboard to port. When standing by the search light, with my cap well secured and the collar of a lieutenant's storm coat turned up as a protection against the strong wind, all seemed to be under the rule of darkness save the bright spot on the waters ahead, where could be seen the savage-looking whitecaps of the rollers which we were soon to encounter. The passage of Assateague Beach next morning, which dawned bright and clear, brought out the sad story of the wreck of the President's dispatch boat Despatch from some of the sailors who had been aboard the unfortunate boat at the time. Indeed, the tales of the sailors were one of the interesting features of the trip, especially the ones of old Jack Norris, the coxswain of the second cutter and a veritable "old tar." The capes of Virginia, Charles and Henry, were passed about two o'clock, and we entered the mouth of the famous Chesapeake. As we passed Cape Henry's lighthouse we hoisted from our yard the four flags of the International Code, G, Q, T, M, reading Miantonomoh. Proceeding up the bay, the breaking of the seas over our bows became less and less frequent, and the sailors, one by one, ventured on the forward deck, as the heat of the sun was drying it rapidly. But suddenly the sky became clouded, a few drops of rain fell, and the calm of a few moments before gave way to a violent windstorm. The rain descended in torrents, and we could barely distinguish the outlines of a three-masted schooner on our port quarter with her jib and fore gaff topsail blown away. The squall left as rapidly as it came, and when we passed that world-renowned resort, Old Point Comfort, the hills of "Old Virginia" could be plainly seen in the sunlight. After steaming up opposite the mouth of the Rappahannock, where so many important events during the struggle for the Union occurred, we came to anchor. The beauty of the night was enhanced by the peaceful light of a new moon. Toward midnight, how ever, the wind freshened, the ship began to take As we drew near we saluted the flagship Philadelphia and the admiral's flag with thirteen guns. Our starboard anchor was dropped and a boat lowered for the captain to go aboard the flagship, from which floated the musical strains of the "Star-spangled Banner." The flagships alone are provided with military bands, and the use of the fife and drum has been abolished on all the war vessels, the bugle taking their places. Immediately ahead of the flagship, on guard, lay the Newark, the pride of the new navy. Astern of these, and in direct contrast to them, with a considerable water, and another anchor was let go to hold the vessel, as the waves were playing tag over the deck and spattered their foam to the top of the superstructure. By six o'clock on Saturday we were again under way, and about nine o'clock passed the mouth of the renowned Potomac. The early part of the day was spent in "cleaning ship," scrubbing down decks, and getting everything in shape for port. At stated intervals during the whole voyage soundings were taken and the log read. Early in the afternoon the vessels of the North Atlantic Squadron, lying at anchor, were sighted. fresh coat of black paint, lay a vessel with a history every American is proud of, the Kearsarge, which on June 19th, 1864, sank the Confederate cruiser Alabama in the harbor of Cherbourg, France. At dinner we were surprised with the words, "New York and Philadelphia papers!" and cagerly bought some to find out what the world had been doing while we were at sea. As the launch had already gotten up steam, and was making a great noise in its anxiety to get away, three of the officers, the steward and I started for Annapolis. As we neared the town the officers related reminiscences of their academic days, recalled by various landmarks. The sinking sun left a brilliant sky against which the outlines of church steeples, the dome of the Statehouse and the clock towers of the Naval Academy stood boldly forth from a sea of dark-green foliage. Lying off the academy's wharf were three old war vessels, the Constellation, Enterprise and Santee, while the Dolphin and the Vesuvius represented the new navy. Far in the distance could be seen, standing high out of the water, the white sides of the Philadelphia and the Newark, while all that could be seen of the Miantonomoh appeared like a conical haystack floating on the water. HOW I BECAME MY OWN LANDLORD. FIRST, let me say that what I have set down in the following narrative is strictly true, and that my object in writing it is to show rent payers, especially the artisan class or those who live by wages, how they may escape from the bondage of rent. This class is legion, and I trust some of them may learn by my story how they may come by a house of their own. When I was a little boy and used to wander through the streets of New York looking at the countless houses on every hand I often wondered how many of the occupants owned their own houses. There were so many houses, I imagined almost every other man I met owned one; and if this were so, why should not I, too, hope to own one some day? Being of a sanguine disposition, I believed that, in the words of the poet, "All may do what has by man been done." As time wore on, however, and I acquired a little more knowledge of the relations of capital and labor, I became less and less sanguine; my daydreams and fancy castles gradually faded away; and I finally settled down to the conviction that if ever I owned a bit of ground and a cottage in the country, or in the vicinity of New York, I might consider myself a lucky fellow. When one learns that not one man in ten thousand owns a house in New York, and that the mass of the property is not equally distributed among individuals, but in comparatively few hands, the castles of imagination receive a rude shock; and when one becomes practically acquainted with the smallness of wages and the dearness of property the prospect of acquiring a house and lot by savings from labor is by no means encouraging. Το The payment of rent had been, in my youth, the severest drain on our family resources. get the rent together was the first care of my mother, whose anxiety to provide for the monthly visit of our punctual landlord had made a deep impression on my mind. She knew well what would happen if she could not meet her landlord with money in hand; and many a bit of selfdenial, many an economical twist, did she exercise to accomplish this laudable object. That landlord seemed to me the luckiest fellow in the world; for I thought he had nothing to do but to collect money for which he had done no work, and could go and enjoy himself or pass his time as he pleased. Time taught me that all landlords. were not thus to be envied; but my ignorance was not greater, I imagine, than that of many older persons at the present day. There is a story of two boys going to school, one of whom tells the other that his father is going to build a cupola on his house; whereupon the other exclaims, "My father is going to do better than that—I heard him tell mamma about it this morning-he is going to have a mortgage on his house!" What a great effect an unknown word has on the untutored imagination! I was then about as blissfully ignorant as this little boy; but in due time I learned the meaning of such words from other sources than from the dictionary. Finding, in my thirtieth year, that with an annual income of about one thousand dollars I could save nothing, and that the ever-recurring |