Mr. Taft had waited up for us and had seen the tender come out of the harbour and go back, and, assuming from what was told him that no attempt would be made to transfer the passengers before morning, he went to bed. When I got aboard the steamer, filled with excitement over the dangers through which I had passed, and found him peacefully sleeping in his cabin, I declined to accept any explanation. A French sub-prefect, who had been sent out by the Minister of the Interior of France with greetings and compliments, and who had come in his full regimentals with a cocked hat, was waiting to see Mr. Taft and I was cruel enough to insist that he should get up and receive him. Throwing a long fur coat over his pajamas the Secretary of War of the United States walked out into the salon to meet the polite representative of the politest of peoples, but after a grave exchange of formal salutations the situation proved too much for their gravity. They burst out laughing at each other, to the immense enjoyment of the bystanders, and the gloom of the wee sma’ hour was lifted.