each other. On the headstone of one is written "Nord," and on the other "Sud." A dilapidated old slouch hat with a rooster's feather in it rests on each grave, and underneath is written "Finis de la guerre dans l'Amerique."
And now I must say good-bye, my dearest mother. With love and kisses for you and my dear sisters, I am
Lovingly your son,
James Morris Morgan.
Captain Maury was summoned to Paris to explain about our little fracas with the Patrie, and I accompanied him as interpreter. Commodore Barron, C.S.N., and some twenty-odd other Confederate naval officers were in Paris by this time, the juniors waiting for ships that were building. At Captain Maury's own request, on account of his health, Commodore Barron relieved him from the command of the Georgia and ordered him to return to the Confederacy—so I went back to my ship alone.
Every officer on the Georgia who could get leave got it, and Lieutenant Ingraham and I had to keep watch and watch, that is, four hours on and four off—sounds easy, but is rather trying on a growing boy. There was no competition among the higher officers for the honor of commanding the Georgia, so the post was conferred on Lieutenant Evans. As for the juniors in Paris, they showed no wild desire to serve on the little ship, either. Two lieutenants who had a strong pull with the commodore came to us, but managed to secure their detachments after being on board only a couple of days.
The monotony of my existence was broken by my being granted a week's leave of absence, which I utilized by going to Paris, and from there to Calais to visit some midshipmen who were on board of the C.S.S. Rappahannock, with whom I spent a morning before continuing my journey to Liverpool. The Rappahannock is worthy of being mentioned, if only on account of the unusual way in which she escaped from the Thames to become a Confederate cruiser.
