W.A. Bartlett, of the navy,
being ordered to his ship by the commanding officer of the squadron.
The annual salute in celebration of the birthday of the immortal and
illustrious founder of our republic, required by law from all the ships
of the navy in commission, in whatever part of the world they may be at
the time, strikes us more forcibly when in a far-off country, as being
a beautiful and appropriate tribute to the unapproachable virtues and
heroism of that great benefactor of the human race, than when we are
nearer home, or upon our own soil. The U.S. ships in the harbour, at
twelve o'clock on the 22d, each fired a national salute; and the day
being calm and beautiful, the reports bounded from hill to hill, and
were echoed and re-echoed until the sound died away, apparently in the
distant gorges of the Sierra Nevada. This was a voice from the soul of
WASHINGTON, speaking in majestic and thunder-tones to the green and
flowery valley, the gentle hills and lofty mountains of California, and
consecrating them as the future abode of millions upon millions of the
sons of liberty. The merchant and whale ships lying at anchor, catching
the enthusiasm, joined in the salute; and for a time the harbour and
bay in front of the town were enveloped in clouds of gunpowder smoke.
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