I dream of the east wind's tonic¹, Of the breakers' stormy roar, And the peace of the inner harbor With the long low Shimmo shore.  
I long for the buoy-bell's tolling² When the north wind brings from afar The smooth, green, shining billows, To be churned into foam³ on the bar.
 
Oh! for the sea-gulls' screaming As they swoop⁴ so bold and free! Oh! for the fragrant⁵ commons, And the glorious open sea!—
 
For the restful great contentment, For the joy that is never known Till past the jetty and Brant Point Light The Islander comes to his own!
 
—MARY E. STARBUCK.
 
"I must send you out. I see that you cannot stand it here another month," said Jack⁶ one day; and so he bundled us onto the boat in the early spring, and took us down the river to meet the ocean steamer.
 
There was no question about it this time, and I well knew it.
 
I left my sister and her son in Ehrenberg, and I never saw my nephew again. A month later, his state of health became so alarming that my sister took him to San Francisco. He survived the long voyage, but died there a few weeks later at the home of my cousin.
 
At Fort Yuma we telegraphed all over the country for a nurse, but no money would tempt⁷ those Mexican women to face an ocean voyage. Jack put me on board the old "Newbern" in charge of the Captain, waited to see our vessel⁸ under way, then waved good-bye from the deck of the "Gila," and turned his face towards his post and duty. I met the situation as best I could, and as I have already described a voyage on this old craft, I shall not again enter into details. There was no stewardess⁹ on board, and all arrangements were of the crudest description. Both my child and I were seasick¹⁰ all the way, and the voyage lasted sixteen days. Our misery¹¹ was very great.
 
The passengers were few in number, only a couple of Mexican miners who had been prospecting¹², an irritable¹³ old Mexican woman, and a German doctor, who was agreeable but elusive¹⁴.
 
The old Mexican woman sat on the deck all day, with her back against the stateroom door; she was a picturesque¹⁵ and indolent figure.
 
There was no diversion, no variety; my little boy required constant care and watching. The days seemed endless. Everbody bought great bunches of green bananas at the ports in Mexico, where we stopped for passengers.
 
The old woman was irritable, and one day when she saw the agreeable German doctor pulling bananas from the bunch which she had hung in the sun to ripen¹⁶, she got up muttering "Carramba," and shaking her fist in his face. He appeased¹⁷ her wrath¹⁸ by offering her, in the most fluent Spanish, some from his own bunch when they should be ripe.
 
Such were my surroundings on the old "Newbern." The German doctor was interesting, and I loved to talk with him, on days when I was not seasick, and to read the letters which he had received from his family, who were living on their Rittergut (or landed estates) in Prussia.
 
He amused me by tales of his life at a wretched little mining village somewhere about fifty miles from Ehrenberg, and I was always wondering how he came to have lived there.
 
He had the keenest sense of humor, and as I listened to the tales of his adventures and miraculous¹⁹ escapes from death at the hands of these desperate folk, I looked in his large laughing blue eyes and tried to solve the mystery.
 
For that he was of noble birth and of ancient family there was no doubt. There were the letters, there was the crest²¹, and here was the offshoot of the family. I made up my mind that he was a ne'er-do-weel and a rolling stone. He was elusive, and, beyond his adventures, told me nothing of himself. It was some time after my arrival in San Francisco that I learned more about him.
 
Now, after we rounded Cape²⁰ St. Lucas, we were caught in the long heavy swell²² of the Pacific Ocean, and it was only at intervals²³ that my little boy and I could leave our stateroom. The doctor often held him while I ran below to get something to eat, and I can never forget his kindness; and if, as I afterward

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