squadron was in motion, and at three in the afternoon it was abreast of Sacrificios. Every thing appeared to favor the movement. There was nothing like confusion or disorder. The soldiers knew they were about to land in an enemy's country, but it was a moment for which many of them had long panted. The scene was full of interest and animation. The inspiring strains of martial music broke cheerily on the ear. The bay was crowded with vessels, filled with armed men, whose bright muskets and bayonets flashed in the sunlight. The stars and stripes fluttered everywhere in the breeze. In the distance were the officers and crews of the foreign vessels attentively watching the proceedings. Every fore-top and spar was crowded with anxious spectators. It was a bright, clear day, and the air was soft and balmy; the sea was scarcely rufiled by the mild breeze that came in gentle puffs from the south-east, and the yellow haze of the approaching evening rested, like the mantle of a spirit, upon its broad bosom, rising and falling with the long majestic swells which rolled towards the shore; or it lingered around the tall spires and ancient battlements of Vera Cruz, and the gloomy fortress of San Juan, with its guns piled tier upon tier, frowning defiance to the invaders.
The landing commenced instantly after the arrival of the squadron. The surf-boats, sixty-five in number, which had been towed astern of the larger vessels, were brought alongside to receive the troops, and the steamers Spitfire and Vixen, with five gun-boats, formed a line parallel with the beach, and within good grape range, to cover the descent. The small boats were manned by sailors from the squadron, and each one placed in charge of a naval officer. The first line
