eamer at the _embarcadero_ gave a shrill whistle, then
it panted violently, the paddles revolved,--and our adventurers were
soon steaming swiftly down the noble river on their way to San
Francisco.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

SAN FRANCISCO AGAIN--A TERRIBLE MISFORTUNE--AN OLD FRIEND IN
SURPRISINGLY NEW CIRCUMSTANCES--SEVERAL REMARKABLE DISCOVERIES AND NEW
LIGHTS.

There is no time or place, perhaps, more suitable for indulging in
ruminations, cogitations, and reminiscences, than the quiet hours of a
calm night out upon the sea, when the watchful stars look down upon the
bosom of the deep, and twinkle at their reflections in placid
brilliancy.

Late at night, when all the noisy inmates of the steamer had ceased to
eat, and drink, and laugh, and had sought repose in their berths, Edward
Sinton walked the deck alone, meditating on the past, the present, and
the future. When he looked up at the serene heavens, and down at the
tranquil sea, whose surface was unruffled, save by the long pure white
track of the vessel, he could scarcely bring himself to believe that the
whirl of incident and adventure in which he had been involved during the
last few and short months was real. It seemed like a brilliant dream.
As long as he was on shore it all appeared real enough, and the constant
pressure of _something to be done_, either immediately, or in an hour,
or to-morrow, kept his mind perpetually chained down to the
consideration of visible, and tangible, and passing events; but now the
cord of connexion with land had been suddenly and completely severed.
The very land itself was out of sight. Nothing around him tended to
recall recent events; and, as he had nothing in the world to do but wait
until the voyage should come to an end, his mind was left free to bound
over the recent-past into the region of the long-past, and revel there
at pleasure.

But Ned Sinton was not altogether without anxieties. He felt a little
uneasy as to the high-handed manner, in which he had carried off Nelly
Morgan from her late guardian; and he was a good deal perplexed as to
what the important affairs could be, for which he had so hastily
overturned all the gold-digging plans of his whole party. With these
thoughts mingled many philosophic inquiries as to the amount of
advantage that lay--if, indeed, there was any advantage at all--in
making one's fortune suddenly and at the imminent hazard of one's life.
Overpowering sleep at last put an en