thence she was to go to San Francisco, and probably would not be in San Diego under two or three months.  Some of the Pilgrim’s crew found old shipmates aboard of her, and spent an hour or two in her forecastle the evening before she sailed.  They said her decks were as white as snow,—­ holystoned every morning, like a man-of-war’s; everything on board ``ship-shape and Bristol fashion’’; a fine crew, three mates, a sailmaker and carpenter, and all complete. ``They’ve got a man for mate of that ship, and not a bloody sheep about decks!’’—­ ``A mate that knows his duty, and makes everybody do theirs, and won’t be imposed upon by either captain or crew.’’ After collecting all the information we could get on this point, we asked something about their new captain.  He had hardly been on board long enough for them to know much about him, but he had taken hold strong, as soon as he took command,—­ shifting the top-gallant-masts, and unreeving all the studding-sail gear and half the running rigging, the very first day.

Having got all the news we could, we pulled ashore; and as soon as we reached the house, I, as might be supposed, fell directly to opening my bundle, and found a reasonable supply of duck, flannel shirts, shoes, &c., and, what was still more valuable, a packet of eleven letters.  These I sat up nearly all night reading, and put them carefully away, to be re-read again and again at my leisure.  Then came half a dozen newspapers, the last of which gave notice of Thanksgiving, and of the clearance of ``ship Alert, Edward H. Faucon, master, for Callao and California, by Bryant, Sturgis, & Co.’’ Only those who have been on distant voyages, and after a long absence received a newspaper from home, can understand the delight that they give one.  I read every part of them,—­ the houses to let, things lost or stolen, auction sales, and all.  Nothing carries you so entirely to a place, and makes you feel so perfectly at home, as a newspaper.  The very name of ``Boston Daily Advertiser’’ ``sounded hospitably upon the ear.’’

The Pilgrim discharged her hides, which set us at work again, and in a few days we were in the old routine of dry hides, wet hides, cleaning, beating, &c.  Captain Faucon came quietly up to me, as I was sitting upon a stretched hide, cutting the meat from it with my knife, and asked me how I liked California, and repeated,—­

   ``Tityre, tu patulae recubans subtegmine fagi.’’

Very apropos, thought I, and, at the same time, shows that you have studied Latin.  However, it was kind of him, and an attention from a captain is a thing not to be slighted.  Thompson’s majesty could not have bent to it, in the sight of so many mates and men; but Faucon was a man of education, literary habits, and good social position, and held things at their right value.