past these the inner edge of the water deepens and the sea becomes smoother.  About an hour brought me inside what is called by the dwellers thereabout the “outer island,”—­its gray-red rocks tufted here and there with patches of coarse grass, and weather-worn and seamed by surf and storm, with the usual accompaniment of mackerel-gulls screaming and soaring aloft at the approach of a stranger.  When within about a quarter of a mile of the shore, I backed round to come upon the beach stern foremost through the surf.  If the surf be high, coming ashore is a delicate operation; for, should the boat be turned broadside on, she would be thrown over upon the oarsman, and both washed up the beach in a flood of sandy salt-water; so it requires some little steadiness to sit back to the coming wave, hear the increasing roar, and feel the sudden lift and toss shoreward which each roller gives you as it plunges down upon the sand.  Just before coming to the outer edge of the surf, I was seen by my friends, who hastened down the cliff-road to receive me.  Resting on my oars, I waited, till, hearing a large roller coming, whose voice gained in strength and depth as it drew nearer to the shore, I looked behind.  The crest was already beginning to curl, as it dashed under the boat and swept me in-shore, breaking, as the stern passed, the top of the sea, and carrying me in, full speed, with the flood of foam and spray.  After three or four quick strokes I jerked the oars out of the row-locks, jumped into the water knee-deep, and wading dragged the boat backwards as far as she would float, when the receding surf let her gently down upon the sand, and before the next wave the servant had taken the bow and I the stern and lifted her high and dry upon the beach.  And so my afternoon’s pull of thirty miles was safely and successfully finished, my boat having proved herself thoroughly seaworthy, though my friends could hardly believe that such a craft could be safely trusted.  After removing the stores and arranging other matters, we took her up, placed her quietly upon the grass, and left her for the night.

The next morning was rather hazy.  About nine o’clock I took my way to the beach, and began to prepare for departure.  Mr. T.’s house lies several miles to the south and west of Cape Ann.  Eastern Point, on the Cape, was therefore the place to be steered for in a straight line,—­perhaps six miles distant.  Two miles on, the white light-house on the Point can be plainly seen.  The tide was rising, and the two lines of ripple met across the sand-bar which connects a little island with the beach.  My boat was now carried down from her night’s resting-place and set at the edge of the water.  The oars being placed in readiness, two of us waded out with her till she would just float, when, quickly and cautiously stepping in, I met the advancing wave in time to ride over it.  The line of surf is hard to cross, unless one can catch the roller before it begins to crest.  Once outside the line, I turned