as appears, the ship seems to have
been loaded by entirely new parties, to wit, by one J.R. Smith, who
describes himself as the agent of H. Worms, of Cardiff. By the bill of
lading, the ship is to proceed to the. Point de Galle, and there deliver
the coal to the company of Messageries Imperiales. On the back of the
bill of lading is the following certificate:--"I certify that the
within-mentioned cargo is French property, having been shipped by order,
for the account of the Messageries Imperiales." This certificate is
signed by Mr. Smith, but is not sworn to, nor is the order, nor any copy
of the order to ship this cargo to an account of the Messageries
Imperiales, found among the papers. As the ship was not chartered by any
agent of this company, and as the coal was not shipped by any such
agent, Smith being the agent of Worms, and Worms not being described as
the agent of the company, the presumption is that, if there was any such
order at all in the case, it was a mere general understanding that the
company would pay so much per ton for coal delivered for them at their
depots, the property remaining in the shippers until delivery. The
presumption, in the absence of proof, is, that the cargo being on board
an American ship is American; shipped on speculation to the far east, by
the owner, or his agent, in Cardiff; and we have seen that there is no
legal evidence in the case; the unsworn certificate of Mr. Smith not
even amounting to an _ex parte_ affidavit. Ship and cargo condemned.
Probable value of cargo in Cardiff, 2500 dollars. Cost of coal in
Brazil, 15 to 17 dollars per ton.

* * * * *

The Alabama now stood away in the direction of Fernando de Noronha, with
her prize in company, with the intention of there taking on board a
fresh supply of coal. The run was not a little protracted by the light
and baffling winds that still prevailed, and as though this was not
enough, fortune must needs play her a trick, by sending her off on a
chase of fourteen miles after a supposed Yankee whaler, which, when at
last overhauled, turned out to be nothing but a poor little
green-painted "Portiguee."

Rain--rain--rain, the sun sometimes showing himself for an hour or two,
just a few minutes too early, or a few minutes too late, for any
purposes of observation, and then again retiring behind the dense masses
of cloud that hid the whole horizon in one drenching down-pour. And all
this while every