four days we reached Castillo, where there is a decided fall, passed by a short railway, and above this fall we were transferred to a larger boat, which carried us up the rest of the river, and across the beautiful lake Nicaragua, studded with volcanic islands.  Landing at Virgin Bay, we rode on mules across to San Juan del Sur, where lay at anchor the propeller S. S. Lewis (Captain Partridge, I think).  Passengers were carried through the surf by natives to small boats, and rowed off to the Lewis.  The weather was very hot, and quite a scramble followed for state-rooms, especially for those on deck.  I succeeded in reaching the purser’s office, got my ticket for a berth in one of the best state-rooms on deck, and, just as I was turning from the window, a lady who was a fellow-passenger from New Orleans, a Mrs. D-, called to me to secure her and her lady friend berths on deck, saying that those below were unendurable.  I spoke to the purser, who, at the moment perplexed by the crowd and clamor, answered:  “I must put their names down for the other two berths of your state-room; but, as soon as the confusion is over, I will make some change whereby you shall not suffer.”  As soon as these two women were assigned to a state-room, they took possession, and I was left out.  Their names were recorded as “Captain Sherman and ladies.”  As soon as things were quieted down I remonstrated with the purser, who at last gave me a lower berth in another and larger state-room on deck, with five others, so that my two ladies had the state-room all to themselves.  At every meal the steward would come to me, and say, “Captain Sherman, will you bring your ladies to the table?” and we had the best seats in the ship.

This continued throughout the voyage, and I assert that “my ladies” were of the most modest and best-behaved in the ship; but some time after we had reached San Francisco one of our fellow-passengers came to me and inquired if I personally knew Mrs. D—–­, with flaxen tresses, who sang so sweetly for us, and who had come out under my especial escort.  I replied I did not, more than the chance acquaintance of the voyage, and what she herself had told me, viz., that she expected to meet her husband, who lived about Mokelumne Hill.  He then informed me that she was a woman of the town.  Society in California was then decidedly mixed.  In due season the steamship Lewis got under weigh.  She was a wooden ship, long and narrow, bark-rigged, and a propeller; very slow, moving not over eight miles an hour.  We stopped at Acapulco, and, in eighteen days, passed in sight of Point Pinoa at Monterey, and at the speed we were traveling expected to reach San Francisco at 4 A. M. the next day.  The cabin passengers, as was usual, bought of the steward some champagne and cigars, and we had a sort of ovation for the captain, purser, and surgeon of the ship, who were all very clever fellows, though they had a slow and poor ship.  Late at night all the passengers went to bed, expecting