Flag Ship Susquehanna
U.S. Squadron on the Coast of Brazil
November 14, 1865

William B. Phillips, Hyde Park

Dear Bill:

I presume you will not be surprised at this since you know where I am &c. My friends in Hyde Park have all had the opportunity of knowing my whereabouts, but it seems of no avail as far as to expect an answer to any of them. You was also attended to while lying in New York but I willingly pardon you after taking in consideration your short stay in town and the undoubted encroachments of some “gwir ieuainc” on your rights, which had a better claim to your attention than your humble servant. However, time enough have elapsed since then for matters to resume their shapes and nothing but one of your good old fashioned letters can satisfy me – a rival to the one I received while at the Seminary – a little storehouse of news.

I have very little news for you. We are lying back on our dig here. The hub-bub of organizing expeditions are played, the news of victory and defeat is no more, stirring times have ceased, the events of the day within the limits of the bulwark are all we know of. There are several vessels of nearly all nations lying here peaceably with us. The Brazilians are all alive in war business. They turn out Rams and paper built monitors, now and then, but meaner, weaker looking concerns I never seen. But the Dego persuades himself ahead of Naps, Bulls, or Yanks in the line, probably because they never felt a kick from an Erickson or an Armstrong .

We have had a few liberties since coming on the station. The last – a forty-eighter – was a lightener. Bill, I have acquired enough of the lingua to squeeze through the dense crowd and a bender was the result. A fair nation fulfilled a most satisfactory engagement. Had a stroll as far as the tunnel twenty miles in the country, overstaid leave a few hours, came aboard about 110 degrees in the shade – hot, William – minus cap, overshirt, or shoes. My last in Rio, I guess.

One of our shipmates came aboard today after being in prison nearly three months for attempting to part the jugular of an English Marine when on leave. He was acquitted after a long trial. [There were] thirteen evidences against him, not a single one in favor. Forty-eight jurors sat in his case and the whole had to agree. It looks mysterious. Justice is in a rather low state in Brazil, I think. If one of the jurors had held out against him, ten years in the chain gang would have been his lot. Ugh. Well, what next.

We are preparing for a trip [down the coast] to Montevideo as soon as the ship is coaled. The Admiral is going to Buenos Ayres and other places. By the time we get back here, the [USS] Brooklyn will probably be waiting us and the welcome homeward bound will bring about a change.

My friend Graeber and the Solomon of all Soloman’s shall know it. Hey, by the great ghost of Cromwell, if there is any good in Lager, I intend knowing it. Then I shall have such a dry fever settled in me by that time that I shall consider a keg [of beer] but softening the rust. So clar de track g’hals. We have made one cruise to St. Catherine’s since coming here. We were put through a ten day’s steady drill. “Augadente” was the favorite drink. In fact, [it was] the only drink. Dead shot at fifty rods – officers and men alike. The Admiral even got rolling. The Bombproof was at one time crowded. In short, we had a Donnybrook Fair on board that lasted our stay there.

How about our old companion-in-arms Miss M. R.?  Lle mae y lleill? Cymar gar William, phaid o wilor twll gor noodd rhag ofan dy gail dy rhwige. My friend David Jones will probably be home before me by the store ship “Supply.” If you meet him and acquaint yourself to him, I’ll guarantee a bender on the strength of it. George Hughes is well and desires to be remembered to his friends. The ship’s company are in excellent health and good spirits, especially since the brass band is aboard. By the way, we can boast of having the best band of Rio – lately engaged in the orchestra of the Emperor’s Theatre. Though only twelve in number, they play the finest music. Something very different to Caer Salem that you once ventured on to entertain the evening party at the Winan Cottage, and in which you acquitted yourself admirably on that occasion, and which would always attract my attention before a Corps of Pignieurius.

But enough at present. The mail is about closing and I have to be brief. Bear my respects to the old folks – Mr. and Mrs. Richards and family, and don’t forget the duckey's Ann and Susan. Remember me to our friend, the machinist, whom cognomen you can guess. And all the young damsels. I am in no humour for writing – more for growling. And I sometimes wish it even fashionable to growl for I would certainly accomplish something then. So you see, rib ticklers are out of the question. Excuse roughness Bill. Accept my warmest wishes and consider me, as ever, your unflinching Chum, -- Harry F. Evans

P.S. If you answer this, will you please make enquiries about my friend Benjamin Harris that went to England with Mr. Howell and tell me where he is, &c. Enquire of Ed Anthony. I presume you are acquainted. Yours, -- Hank F.