ing their balance. They tie a
string to the shrouds--stand with back against it walk three steps (eyes
shut)--turn around three times and go and put finger on the string; only
a military man can do it. If you want to know how perfectly ridiculous
a grown man looks performing such absurdities in the presence of ladies,
get one to try it.

Afternoon--The calm is no more. There are three vessels in sight. It is
so sociable to have them hovering about us on this broad waste of water.
It is sunny and pleasant, but blowing hard. Every rag about the ship is
spread to the breeze and she is speeding over the sea like a bird. There
is a large brig right astern of us with all her canvas set and chasing
us at her best. She came up fast while the winds were light, but now it
is hard to tell whether she gains or not. We can see the people on the
forecastle with the glass. The race is exciting. I am sorry to know that
we shall soon have to quit the vessel and go ashore if she keeps up this
speed.

Friday, Aug. 10--We have breezes and calms alternately. The brig is two
miles to three astern, and just stays there. We sail directly east--this
brings the brig, with all her canvas set, almost in the eye of the sun,
when it sets--beautiful. She looks sharply cut and black as a coal,
against a background of fire and in the midst of a sea of blood.

San Francisco, Aug. 20.--We never saw the Comet again till the 13th, in
the morning, three miles away. At three o'clock that afternoon, 25 days
out from Honolulu, both ships entered the Golden Gate of San Francisco
side by side, and 300 yards apart. There was a gale blowing, and both
vessels clapped on every stitch of canvas and swept up through the
channel and past the fortresses at a magnificent gait.

I have been up to Sacramento and squared accounts with the Union. They
paid me a great deal more than they promised me.

Yrs aff
SAM.

VI. LETTERS 1866-67. THE LECTURER. SUCCESS ON THE COAST. IN NEW YORK.
THE GREAT OCEAN EXCURSION.

It was August 13th when he reached San Francisco and wrote in his
note-book, "Home again. No--not home again--in prison again, and
all the wild sense of freedom gone. City seems so cramped and so
dreary with toil and care and business anxieties. God help me, I
wish I were at sea again!"

The transition from the dreamland of a becalmed sailing-