These I Sat Up Nearly All The Night
To Read, And Put Them Carefully Away, To Be Read And Re-Read Again
And Again At My Leisure.
Then came a 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." No one has ever been on distant voyages,
and after a long absence received a newspaper from home, who cannot
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, etc. Captain Faucon came quietly up to
me, as I was at work, with my knife, cutting the meat from a dirty
hide, asked me how I liked California, and repeated - "Tityre, tu
patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi." Very apropos, thought I, and,
at the same time, serves to show that you understand Latin.
However, a kind word from a captain is a thing not to be slighted;
so I answered him civilly, and made the most of it.
Saturday, July 11th. The Pilgrim set sail for the windward, and left
us to go on in our old way.
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