upon his seat, rather knavely casting a
comical glance over his shoulder, 'I'm not afraid--my courage never
fails me; but that steamer don't take me to Ostend if you're a
passenger! Mind that now!' Saunders lowered himself gravely from the
box, and with serious countenance assured the old man that no danger
could result while he drove the team. In reply to this, the old man
declared that with Saunders on board a blowing-up was certain. The
much-dreaded gentleman, however, soon quieted the envoy's fears by
assuring him that accompanying us to Ostend was farthest from his
thoughts, he having made all the necessary arrangements for throwing a
bomb-shell into the camp from this side of the water, as directed by
the Uncle Caleb and the boy Fourney. Boxes one, two, and three being
safely on board, we supported the old governor after them--Saunders on
one side, and Smooth on the other. Then the bell rang, and the steam
thundered and roared, and the little craft glided on her way, Saunders
waving his adieus from the wharf, and crying out at the very top of
his voice--'Don't forget Cuba!' and 'go it, Buck! Go it, Smooth!!'

CHAPTER XX.

ARRIVAL AND GRAND RECEPTION AT OSTEND.

"Our passage was attended with extremely pleasant weather; and nothing
remarkable occurred, except that the Dutch crew thought Mr. Buckhanan
a very great man, and the object of his mission the overthrow of
European dynasties in general. Twice they undertook to regale him with
sour-krout, which he pronounced inferior to that made in York county,
Pennsylvane. As to me, they declined to be convinced that I was not
Governor of Kentucky, having a singular belief in the peculiarities of
that State for growing long citizens--the tallest man always being
elected governor. Perhaps I should have added that the Schiedam was
only tolerable, the brandy bad; and that Buck, having forgotten his
tobacco, was compelled to resort to very bad Dutch loggerhead, with
which he kept the swabs busily employed.

"As we entered the port of Ostend, once so celebrated for the defence
of its garrison, a salute of thirteen guns was fired from the old
fort, which we attempted to answer with a rusty swivel, Buck waving
his hat, and singing 'Yankee Doodle' to the burghers who filed along
the dilapidated dyke. As the steamer neared a landing-place, we
descried the coarse figure of Corporal Noggs, surrounded by numerous
of his fellow citizens, prominent among whom was Monsieur So