el the pulse-beat of the iron
monitor as it speeds you onward; finally to sleep, to dream of loved
ones at home.

The suavity of the French is in notable contrast with the more taciturn
deportment of the English; amiable contact has much to do with softening
the asperities of life.

We are now crossing the heretofore much-dreaded equator--weather
splendid, light, cloth suit not uncomfortable, but we are at sea and not
on land. The forward deck is today given up to the sports of the
sailors (the custom when crossing the line), and is now the center of
attraction--running "obstacle races," the two competitors getting under,
and from under a canvas-sheet held to the deck by a number of their
fellows, and then running for the goal, picking up potatoes as they ran.
Afterwards, with bucket of paste and paintbrush, lathering head and
face, shaving with a large wooden razor the unlucky competitor--were a
part of the amusements they imposed on "Old Father Time."

Arrived at Diego Suarez, on the northern port of Madagascar, a French
naval station, having a land-locked harbor, providing good shelter and
anchorage. The town is located on a plateau overlooking the bay. Many
officers disembarked and a large amount of freight discharged. The
resident population consisted of a medley from all eastern nations.
Anchored a mile off and in small boats, and after 20 minutes' rowing we
were landed. A dozen stores, barracks and the hospital on the opposite
side of the bay were the only objects of interest. The large amount of
freight discharged indicated it to be a prominent distributing point for
the interior. Leaving Diego and running down the eastern coast with land
in view, mountainous and apparently sterile, we reach Tamatave and
anchor in the bay.

The ship was soon boarded by a messenger from Mr. Wetter, the outgoing
American Consul at Madagascar, and I was piloted ashore. The view of
Tamatave from the ship was not prepossessing, and my walk through the
city to the hotel was not inspiring. The attempt to dignify the six or
eight feet wide alleys (which were the main arteries for travel) as
avenues or streets, seemed ludicrous, and the filthy condition, the
absence of all sanitary regulations in a province pretending a civilized
administration, was to me a revelation. The natural sequence of such
neglect was the visitation of the "Bubonic plague" a few months after my
arrival and an immense death-rate. The alarm proved a conservator