Unknown Regions. - II.

The exploring party had left the monument. Led by their experienced guide they turned to the left, went down a crowded street or two and came to the Navy Yard. A sentry or two stared at them as they passed through the gate and entered the government grounds. It is a pretty place - the yard - with green terraces and broad, asphalt walks. In front of the barracks a blue-coat with his musket on his shoulder is striding up and down, and a couple of brass howitzers standing on the terrace glisten in the sun. Hurrying by we stopped a moment in front of the handsome stone dry-dock, built in the presidency of the second Adams, and in which the "Pieter von Leninck" of the Red Star Line, was having her great sides scraped and painted. The party did not stop long to examine the "Pieter," but hurried on; turning to their right they passed the revenue cutter "Fish-Hawk," in the service of the Fish Commission, and arrived at a little covered dock at the end of which was moored a curiously built scow. Hardly had they entered the scow when a bell rang, and two sturdy marines began turning a windlass in the middle of the floor. The scow began slowly moving along a submerged cable, and at the end of a couple of minutes bumped up against the side of the receiving ship, "Wabash." "All out!" sung out the marine, the party jumped ashore, - or aboard - and the scow returned to the shore. Up a flight of stairs they went a trifle doubtful as to whether they would be loaded with irons and sent below, or treated like brothers and welcomed on board. However, on the "historian's" bland request that they might be allowed to inspect the vessel, a midshipman was called up and the party intrusted to him.

"This is the old 'Wabash,'" he explained. "She was a good ship in her day, had several fights during the war; but she's gone out of style. She's been anchored here for eleven years now, roofed over, and turned into a receiving ship. When a U. S. marine finishes a voyage, unless he goes off on leave or is discharged, he is sent here till his ship goes to sea again. The ship serves more or less as a school ship. The men on board are kept in practice all the time, and young fellows like me are sent here and learn the tricks of the trade and how to be generally useful. This is the main deck." - It was broad and very smooth and clean and sunny - "These old guns are not much use now; they're muzzle loading smooth bores and would stand no chance against a modern iron-clad; those two on the other side are breech loading steel guns, and are used for salutes." Tables were placed between the guns, and at each was a crowd of fine specimens of the American marine, some playing dominoes, some writing letters and some reading. Above from the beams were hooks from which hung at night the hammocks of the men. We went down stairs. "These cabins at the rear are the officer's quarters," continued the guide; "from these hooks are hung swinging tables like that one over there, and mess is served on them. Twelve men sit at a table. They give us good food, nice bread, salt meat; fresh meat, and duff twice a week, Look out for your heads - its rather dark. This is the hospital," he said, taking us forward; "when a man comes on board he is measured, weighed and examined; if he is sick, he is put in here and cured." "What is this pen?" asked the "professor." "That's a 'jug'" answered the middy evasively, and then further explained that one large misdemeanor - such as smuggling whiskey on board - or five small ones, - such as profanity or disrespect to officers, - were punished by three days in the "jug." Having explained the working of the capstan, he conducted us to the rear of the boat, where parallel bars, etc., have been erected. The men exercise there during the evening, often having interesting sparring and wrestling matches for their amusement. As we bade our courteous guide farewell on the upper deck, we noticed the purser with a green parrot - the ship's pet - seated on his wrist and swearing volubly, - the last words we heard upon the "Wabash." We descended into the scow, which was waiting, the windlass turned, and we were once more on dry shore and heading towards Cambridge.

RICHARD III.