N.Y. State Naval Militia.

It was this telegram, brief but extremely comprehensive, received early
on the morning of the twenty-sixth of April, which sent me post-haste to
the old receiving-ship "New Hampshire," moored at the end of an East
River dock. The telegram had been anxiously expected for several days by
the members of the First Battalion, and when I reached the ship I found
the decks thronged with excited groups.

"War was a certainty, and the very air was filled with rumors. The
prevailing topic was discussed from every point of view, and within
sixty seconds as many destinations had been picked out for the
'Yankee.' It was variously reported that she was to go to Havana, to
Manila, to Porto Rico, and even to Spain. This last rumor brought shouts
of laughter, and 'Stump,' as we termed him, a well-known young insurance
broker of New York, remarked, in his characteristic way:

"It probably won't be this particular 'Yankee,' boys, that will go
there, but there'll be others."

There was much cleaning of kits and furbishing of cutlasses. We knew
that we would not take the latter with us, but then it was practice, and
we felt anxious to do something martial as a relief to our excitement.
There was a diversion shortly before noon, when the "old man" (the
captain) appeared with a number of official-looking papers in his hands.

"He's got the orders," whispered little Potter, our latest recruit.
"Whoop! we'll get away this morning, sure."

The whistle of the bosun's mate on watch echoed shrilly about the decks