bunch which she had hung in the
sun to ripen, she got up muttering "Carramba," and shaking her fist
in his face. He appeased her wrath by offering her, in the most fluent
Spanish, some from his own bunch when they should be ripe.

Such were my surroundings on the old "Newbern." The German doctor
was interesting, and I loved to talk with him, on days when I was not
seasick, and to read the letters which he had received from his family,
who were living on their Rittergut (or landed estates) in Prussia.

He amused me by tales of his life at a wretched little mining village
somewhere about fifty miles from Ehrenberg, and I was always wondering
how he came to have lived there.

He had the keenest sense of humor, and as I listened to the tales of
his adventures and miraculous escapes from death at the hands of these
desperate folk, I looked in his large laughing blue eyes and tried to
solve the mystery.

For that he was of noble birth and of ancient family there was no doubt.
There were the letters, there was the crest, and here was the offshoot
of the family. I made up my mind that he was a ne'er-do-weel and a
rolling stone. He was elusive, and, beyond his adventures, told me
nothing of himself. It was some time after my arrival in San Francisco
that I learned more about him.

Now, after we rounded Cape St. Lucas, we were caught in the long heavy
swell of the Pacific Ocean, and it was only at intervals that my little
boy and I could leave our stateroom. The doctor often held him while I
ran below to get something to eat, and I can never forget his kindness;
and if, as I afterward heard in San Francisco, he really had entered
the "Gate of a hundred sorrows," it would perhaps best explain his
elusiveness, his general condition, and his sometimes dazed expression.

A gentle and kindly spirit, met by chance, known through the propinquity
of a sixteen days' voyage, and never forgotten.

Everything comes to an end, however interminable it may seem, and at
last the sharp and jagged outlines of the coast began to grow softer and
we approached the Golden Gate.

The old "Newbern," with nothing in her but ballast, rolled and lurched
along, through the bright green waters of the outer bar. I stood leaning
against the great mast, steadying myself as best I could, and the tears
rolled down my face; for I saw the friendly green hills, and before me
lay the glorious bay of San Francisco. I had left behind me the deserts,
the black