owly and clumsily
made sail. The town never looked prettier; it is always the way and
always will be; towns, like blessings, brighten just as they get out of
reach. Drifting into the west we began to grow thoughtful; what had at
first seemed a lark may possibly prove to be a very serious matter. We
have to feed on rough rations, work in a rough locality, among rough
people, and our profits, or our share of the profits, will depend
entirely upon the fruitfulness of the egg-orchard, and the number of
hundred gross that we are able to get safely into the market. No news
from the town, save by the schooner that comes over at intervals to take
away our harvest. No society, save our own, good enough always, provided
we are not forcibly confined to it. No amusements beyond a novel, a
pipe, and a pack of cards. Ah well! it is only an experience after all,
and here goes!

"Sea pretty high, as we get outside the Heads, and feel the long roll of
the Pacific. Wind, fresh and cold; we are to be out all night and
looking about for bunks, we find the schooner accommodations are
limited, and that the captain and his crew monopolize them. We sleep
anywhere, grateful that we are able to sleep at all.

"10 p.m.--A blustering head wind, and sea increasing. What little supper
we were able to get on board was worse than none at all, for it did not
stay with us--anything but fun, this going to sea in a bowl, to rob
gull's nests, and smuggle eggs into market.

"May 5th.

"Woke in the early dawn, everything moist and sticky, clammy is the
better word, and that embraces the whole case; stiff and sore in every
joint; bacon for dinner last night, more bacon for breakfast this
morning, and only half-cooked at that. Our delicate town-bred stomachs
rebel, and we conclude to fast until we reach the island. Have sighted
the Farallones, but are too miserable to express our gratitude; wind and
sea still rising; schooner on beam ends about once in forty seconds,
between times standing either on her head or her tail, and shaking
herself 'like a thing of life.'

"At noon off the landing, a buoy bobbing in the billows, to which we are
expected to make fast the schooner, and get to shore in the exceedingly
small boat; captain fears to tarry on account of heavy weather;
concludes to return to the coast and bide his time; consequently makes
for Bolinas Bay, which we reach about 9 p.m., and drop anchor in
comparatively smooth water; glad enough to sleep on