horizon, we bade farewell to
scenes which, however changed by the ceaseless march of time, must
always possess a charm indescribable. Religious services were held in
the cabin at eleven o'clock, and again during the evening. The sound
of merriment was hushed, and all seemed to realize that it was the
Sabbath. Indeed, it was observed by one of the speakers, that he had
not heard a word of profanity or seen any one under the influence of
intoxicating beverages during the voyage.

Monday followed without important incident, save that at five o'clock
in the afternoon we safely rounded Cape Hatteras with a gentle
reminder of the old couplet:

"If the Bermudas let you pass,
You must beware of Hatteras!"

Tuesday morning, when about thirty miles south of Fortress Monroe, and
while most of the passengers were at breakfast, a steamer was observed
in the distance with her flag at half-mast. Various were the
conjectures for whom it could be. We had been without news from the
north for more than a week; what could have happened?

Presently a pilot-boat, with her colors also at half-mast, appeared
within hailing distance.

"What's the news?" was eagerly shouted from the "Oceanus."

[Illustration: ABRAHAM LINCOLN.]

"The President is dead," came faintly back, with startling effect,
over the water. Immediately the breakfast tables were deserted, and
the passengers gathered in astonished groups on deck, exclaiming, "It
cannot be!" "We do not believe it!" But a second pilot-boat could now
be seen with her flag, half-hoisted, drooping from the halyards. Again
the earnest inquiry, "What's the news?"

"President Lincoln is dead."

"How did he die?"

"He was assassinated in Washington."

Then stout hearts trembled with dismay, and men unused to tears turned
pale and wept. As we passed vessel after vessel, we obtained further
particulars of the cruel tragedy, and the feeling of gloom and
indignation which prevailed was deep and indescribable. Nothing else
was thought or talked of, till we arrived at the fortress. On landing,
I purchased a Richmond paper, containing a full account of the
assassination, the murderous attack upon Secretary Seward and his
sons, with the plot to remove General Grant and the entire Cabinet. We
found the entrance to the fortress draped in mourning, and the saddest
reminders of all were the portraits of the departed President, deeply
hung with crape, in the various offices. We made but a br