the foam, which flew off at each blow, yards and yards to leeward.  A half-hour of such sailing served our turn, when the clews of the sail were hauled up, the sail furled, and the ship, eased of her press, went more quietly on her way.  Soon after, the foresail was reefed, and we mizzen-top men were sent up to take another reef in the mizzen topsail.  This was the first time I had taken a weather earing, and I felt not a little proud to sit astride of the weather yard-arm, pass the earing, and sing out, ``Haul out to leeward!’’ From this time until we got to Boston the mate never suffered any one but our own gang to go upon the mizzen topsail yard, either for reefing or furling, and the young English lad and I generally took the earings between us.

Having cleared the point and got well out to sea, we squared away the yards, made more sail, and stood on, nearly before the wind, for San Pedro.  It blew strong, with some rain, nearly all night, but fell calm toward morning, and the gale having blown itself out, we came-to,—­

Thursday, October 22d, at San Pedro, in the old southeaster berth, a league from shore, with a slip-rope on the cable, reefs in the topsails, and rope-yarns for gaskets.  Here we lay ten days, with the usual boating, hide-carrying, rolling of cargo up the steep hill, walking barefooted over stones, and getting drenched in salt water.

The third day after our arrival, the Rosa came in from San Juan, where she went the day after the southeaster.  Her crew said it was as smooth as a mill-pond after the gale, and she took off nearly a thousand hides, which had been brought down for us, and which we lost in consequence of the southeaster.  This mortified us:  not only that an Italian ship should have got to windward of us in the trade, but because every thousand hides went towards completing the forty thousand which we were to collect before we could say good by to California.

While lying here, we shipped one new hand, an Englishman, of about six-and-twenty years, who was an acquisition, as he proved to be a good sailor, could sing tolerably, and, what was of more importance to me, had a good education and a somewhat remarkable history.  He called himself George P. Marsh; professed to have been at sea from a small boy, and to have served his time in the smuggling trade between Germany and the coasts of France and England.  Thus he accounted for his knowledge of the French language, which he spoke and read as well as he did English; but his cutter education would not account for his English, which was far too good to have been learned in a smuggler; for he wrote an uncommonly handsome hand, spoke with great correctness, and frequently, when in private talk with me, quoted from books, and showed a knowledge of the customs of society, and particularly of the formalities of the various English courts of law and of Parliament, which surprised me.  Still he would give no other account of himself than that he was