When the evening, which was to salve the Yankee honor, arrived, great was the expectation of every one in the squadron. The band on board the Jason, flag-ship, led off by playing ‘God save the Queen,’ that glorious national anthem, which electrifies the Englishman, as the Marseilles' hymn does the Frenchman, the world over. The Challenger's band followed and played a fine opera air. The evening was still and fine, and the poops of all the ships were filled with officers. It then came the Greyhound's turn. She first played something unusually solemn, then ‘Dixie,’ with slowness, sweetness, and pathos, and when the chorus
had died away on the soft evening air, such an infernal din, of drums, and fifes, and cymbals, and wind instruments, each after its fashion, going it strong uponIn Dixie's land, I'll take my stand,
I'll live, and die in Dixie!
‘Yankee Doodle Dandy!’arose, as to defy all description! The effect was electric; the officers had to hold their sides to preserve their dignity, and— Captain Blake was avenged. There could be no protest made against this time-honored rogue's march. It was the favorite tune of the b'hoys, and there the matter had to end. I have never learned whether Mr. Seward ever called Lord Palmerston to an account about it, in any one of his ‘Essays on English Composition.’