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.