Schmidt, and borrowed and read all the books there were upon the beach.  Such a dearth was there of these latter articles, that anything, even a little child’s story-book, or the half of a shipping calendar, seemed a treasure.  I actually read a jest-book through, from beginning to end, in one day, as I should a novel, and enjoyed it much.  At last, when I thought that there were no more to be had, I found at the bottom of old Schmidt’s chest, ``Mandeville, a Romance, by Godwin, in five volumes.’’ This I had never read, but Godwin’s name was enough, and, after the wretched trash I had devoured, anything bearing the name of an intellectual man was a prize indeed.  I bore it off, and for two days I was up early and late, reading with all my might, and actually drinking in delight.  It is no extravagance to say that it was like a spring in a desert land.

From the sublime to the ridiculous—­ so, with me, from Mandeville to hide-curing—­ was but a step; for—­

Wednesday, July 18th, brought us the brig Pilgrim from the windward.  As she came in, we found that she was a good deal altered in her appearance.  Her short top-gallant-masts were up, her bowlines all unrove (except to the courses), the quarter boom-irons off her lower yards, her jack-cross-trees sent down, several blocks got rid of, running rigging rove in new places, and numberless other changes of the same character.  Then, too, there was a new voice giving orders, and a new face on the quarter-deck,—­ a short, dark-complexioned man, in a green jacket and a high leather cap.  These changes, of course, set the whole beach on the qui-vive, and we were all waiting for the boat to come ashore, that we might have things explained.  At length, after the sails were furled and the anchor carried out, her boat pulled ashore, and the news soon flew that the expected ship had arrived at Santa Barbara, and that Captain Thompson had taken command of her, and her captain, Faucon, had taken the Pilgrim, and was the green-jacketed man on the quarter-deck.  The boat put directly off again, without giving us time to ask any more questions, and we were obliged to wait till night, when we took a little skiff, that lay on the beach, and paddled off.  When I stepped aboard, the second mate called me aft, and gave me a large bundle, directed to me, and marked ``Ship Alert.’’ This was what I had longed for, yet I refrained from opening it until I went ashore.  Diving down into the forecastle, I found the same old crew, and was really glad to see them again.  Numerous inquiries passed as to the new ship, the latest news from Boston, &c., &c.  Stimson had received letters from home, and nothing remarkable had happened.  The Alert was agreed on all hands to be a fine ship, and a large one:  ``Larger than the Rosa,’’—­ ``Big enough to carry off all the hides in California,’’—­ ``Rail as high as a man’s head,’’—­ ``A crack ship,’’—­ ``A regular dandy,’’ &c., &c.  Captain Thompson took command of her, and she went directly up to Monterey;