lve miles towards the north and north-west, we
distinguished some dark masses, which we afterwards discovered to be
groups of trees; but to our eyes they looked exactly like islands in a
green sea, and we subsequently learned that they were called islands by
the people of the country. It would have been difficult to have given them
a more appropriate name, or one better describing their appearance.

Proceeding along the shore, we came to a blockhouse situated behind a
small tongue of land projecting into the river, and decorated with the
flag of the Mexican republic, waving in all its glory from the roof. At
that period, this was the only building of which Galveston harbour could
boast. It served as custom-house and as barracks for the garrison, also as
the residence of the director of customs, and of the civil and military
intendant, as headquarters of the officer commanding, and, moreover, as
hotel and wine and spirit store. Alongside the board, on which was
depicted a sort of hieroglyphic, intended for the Mexican eagle, hung a
bottle doing duty as a sign, and the republican banner threw its protecting
shadow over an announcement of--"Brandy, Whisky, and Accommodation for Man
and Beast."

As we approached the house, we saw the whole garrison assembled before the
door. It consisted of a dozen dwarfish, spindle-shanked Mexican soldiers,
none of them so big or half so strong as American boys of fifteen, and
whom I would have backed a single Kentucky woodsman, armed with a
riding-whip, to have driven to the four winds of heaven. These heroes all
sported tremendous beards, whiskers, and mustaches, and had a habit of
knitting their brows, in the endeavour, as we supposed, to look fierce and
formidable. They were crowding round a table of rough planks, and playing
a game of cards, in which they were so deeply engrossed that they took no
notice of our approach. Their officer, however, came out of the house to
meet us.

Captain Cotton, formerly editor of the _Mexican Gazette_, now civil and
military commandant at Galveston, customs-director, harbour-master, and
tavern-keeper, and a Yankee to boot, seemed to trouble himself very little
about his various dignities and titles. He produced some capital French
and Spanish wine, which, it is to be presumed, he got duty free, and
welcomed us to Texas. We were presently joined by some of our
fellow-passengers, who seemed as bewildered as we had been at the
billiard-table appearance