and that his famed flagship was anchored in the lower bay. So he was visited by all the committees that could be hastily summoned, and he was given a foretaste of all that was to come, and bidden to prepare for it. He resigned himself grace fully to the position, and gave up all sense of personal possession without a murmur, though his heart must nigh have failed him. Owing to his rank, he found himself at the head of the rear-admirals who were with the little fleet of war vessels at the anchorage, and he settled the vexed question of seniority that had been squabbled over in the press. The ships were at his command, but the fact was impressed upon him that he belonged to the people. Now, our third Admiral had served under our first, and, owing to a happy incident, it was Farragut's four stars that mounted to the masthead of the Olympia, for the old flag had been preserved by loving hands, and had been given, in a touching little ceremony, to the victor of Manila on Thursday.

Friday was the day chosen for the naval pageant, and elaborate was the printed programme with its list of divisions and ships in the long line of the parade. It was, despite bad predictions, a brilliant day, with just enough white cloud in the sky to add to its beauty, and the wind blew crisp and fresh from the south. Early in the morning the city had begun to gather at the western water-front. As we crossed on the ferry to Jersey City, where we were to take the boat, the wharves and piers were alive with crowds. Brilliantly decked stands had been erected on dumping-docks, on coal-yards and landing-places. The great recreation piers were dark with the masses of the gathered throngs, and on the New Jersey shore it was the same. The moored barges and canal-boats were covered with hastily erected scaffolding, and seats everywhere and anywhere were at a premium. The big steamers lying in their slips, foreigners and home craft, were gay with lines of bunting. Everybody's humor was in tune with the weather that tempted all to laugh and sing and live.

The vessel for which I had a ticket was chartered by a camera club from a neighboring city. She was a free lance and could take what position she might choose, provided that her captain kept

himself out of the hands of the police boats-that was his own affair; and let me state that he had his troubles ere the day was over. As we started down the stream to make a tour of the war-ships at their anchorage (it was three hours before the procession should be formed there was a great struggle on our craft for positions and vantage-points. The top of the pilot-house was occupied by a huge biograph machine, and another movingpicture camera stood on its tall tripod on the forward deck. There were lenses of all sizes and descriptions mounted in vedette and in broadside forward and aft, and there was ammunition galore. When the snapping and shooting began, assistants and attendants were rushing to and fro, changing plates, range-finding, angle-taking, and altering positions. As we neared the Staten Island shore, there lay the fleet, surrounded by a flotilla of police patrol-boats, excursion steamers, yachts, and tugs, while a constant line of vessels was pouring out of the East River and down the Hudson, heading for the same objective point. There was a marine from the New York, who had somehow obtained liberty, on board with us, and he acted as lecturer to a little group gathered about him. He was a quiet, self-respecting fellow, who had been in the service nine years, and he knew it all.

"There's the Olympia," said he, pointing out the white vessel at the head of the line. "See, her smokestacks are different sizes. My, ain't she ugly!"

And then he pointed with pride to his own vessel which lay farther down the line. The excursion boats that surrounded the Admiral's ship all had heavy lists to port or starboard, as the crowds they carried thronged the rails. Occasionally shreds of music would reach the ear, torn by the winds from the brass bands playing on the decks. Every face wore an inquisitive, curious look, every captain in the pilothouse was implored and clamored at by his passengers to lay his vessel alongside, so they could get a glimpse of the Admiral.

I looked back up the river. A line of great white steamers with their funnels painted in the National colors-the mark of the United States transport service— lay off to the west of the channel (and the sight brought to my mind that our troops were still fighting in the far-off Philip

pines), and here and there were rusty tramps, battered and ill-featured but brave with bunting. A great cattle-steamer, her deck piled with bales of hay, had steam up, but was waiting, anchor down. All afloat were in gala dress; even a big Norwegian bark was flying her colors, and her yards had been squarely braced, "shipshape and Bristol fashion," and the American flag was at the fore. The Goddess of Liberty, on her little island, stood above a line of rippling flags, and her attitude suggested that she was not only giving light unto the world, but bidding "salve to the home-coming with a welcoming toast. But we were nearing the fleet, and the elbowing and jostling at the rail increased. The marine was kept busy answering questions. "Who were the admirals present, and whose were those flags he pointed out?" "Were those long black things torpedo-boats?" "Which is the Porter?" There was a fever of expectation. The people acted like small boys nearing a circus tent. It brought back forgotten sensations felt long ago.

With the starboard paddle-wheel turning idly in the air, we made in closer until we were abreast of the Olympia's gangway. The crew on deck gazed back at us listlessly; it was an old story by this time; a few replied to the waving of handkerchiefs and flags. Right ahead of us lay a crowded tug, her decks half awash; she was squealing away like a pig under a gate, and the attempt of a cornetist in a near-by rowboat to play "Hail to the Chief went for almost naught. Nearer we went in, still nearer, until the end of the boat boom was but a few feet off our port quarter, and then some one shouted in ectasy:

"Hi! See Dewey! There's Dewey!" There were two figures pacing the quarter deck; the shorter had broad gold stripes on his sleeves, shining epaulets, and a cocked hat. So close were we that as he turned about there could be no mistake. Every one knew that much-pictured face!

"That's him," said the marine.

Somebody proposed three cheers, and they were given with more vim than precision, the captain coming to the fore with three long pulls on the whistle-rope.

"Wot's the matter with Dewey?" shouted a deck-hand from below.

The Admiral had turned, leaving his companion-he lifted his hat, and with a smile he gladly and gracefully acknowledged the greeting. At that instant his picture was taken thirty times if once.

Then, as if the photographers were too much for him, he dismissed his audience by joining the other officer and calling attention with a gesture to something up aloft. But a few camera-shutters snapped like belated pieces in a firing-squad.

After drifting about for a few minutes, the nose of the Hazel Kirke was turned up stream to take up her chosen position at the end of the line where the patient crowds were waiting near the great white tomb on the riverside. Nearing the city again, it was a sight to remember long, and tell about; the flags against the sky and the tall office buildings looming up like castle towers, their harsh outlines softened by the shadows slanting down their lofty fronts, and the Stars and Stripes flickering everywhere. Coming in from the Narrows was the great German steamer Graf Waldersee; a line of flags bedecked her also from stem to stern. The steerage passengers she carried leaned over her rail, gazing in wonderment at the strange sights they saw. Perhaps they thought that all this was the usual way these Americans carried on. They did not understand that we had been given special license to go mad, and no doubt they imagined that in the brilliant, rejoicing city gold lay in the streets, and there any man might find a fortune for the reaching.

"I would like to know what those fellows think of all this," observed a man in a cloth yachting cap. "It looks like fairyland to me, and I'm only from Wilkesbarre."

We seemed to be the only vessel heading north. Yachts, excursion boats, committee boats, and State craft were all bound south to the rendezvous. We held in close to the pier-heads, and the biograph man kept grinding his long tape of pictures and getting a panorama of the peopled water-front. In order to make the scene more realistic, probably, the crowds were induced to cheer and wave to us as we passed them, and it was done by the use of the watchword of the day.

"What's the matter with Dewey?" some one would call, and the crowds would fall