of the Desert, with the whole Algerine Squadron to kidnap some more Yankees.
But he selected an unfortunate moment. This was in 1812, and American merchantmen were not venturing abroad. He got a bag of only eleven prisoners. But as soon as the war was over he learned his lesson, as mentioned above. While his pirate fleet was all at sea, one fine afternoon there appeared at the very gates of his palace the American Squadron, veterans of battles famous in history, commanded by Commodore Bainbridge. And on board was a novel and unwelcome kind of diplomat, named Stephen Decatur. He was very brusque and rude to the "Asylum of the World." He said he had come to make a treaty, the principal article of which was that "no stipulation for paying any tribute to Algiers under any form whatever will be agreed to." The outraged Son of Mohammed wanted time to consider it. "Not a minute," said Decatur. It being manifest that this rude ambassador was looking forward with ill-con-
