ttempted to do his seasick reveries literary justice. It is
a strange oversight, and I would respectfully suggest to any aspiring
writer who has the reverie faculty, that there is here an unworked
field of boundless extent. One trip across the North Pacific in a
small brig will furnish an inexhaustible supply of material.

Our life thus far has been too monotonous to afford a single
noticeable incident. The weather has been cold, damp, and foggy, with
light head winds and a heavy swell; we have been confined closely to
our seven-by-nine after-cabin; and its close, stifling atmosphere,
redolent of bilge-water, lamp oil, and tobacco smoke, has had a most
depressing influence upon our spirits. I am glad to see, however,
that all our party are up today, and that there is a faint interest
manifested in the prospect of dinner; but even the inspiriting strains
of the Faust march, which the captain is playing upon a wheezy old
accordion, fail to put any expression of animation into the woebegone
faces around the cabin table. Mahood pretends that he is all
right, and plays checkers with the captain with an air of assumed
tranquillity which approaches heroism, but he is observed at irregular
intervals to go suddenly and unexpectedly on deck, and to return every
time with a more ghastly and rueful countenance. When asked the object
of these periodical visits to the quarter-deck, he replies, with a
transparent affectation of cheerfulness, that he only goes up "to look
at the compass and see how she's heading." I am surprised to find that
looking at the compass is attended with such painful and melancholy
emotions as those expressed in Mahood's face when he comes back; but
he performs the self-imposed duty with unshrinking faithfulness, and
relieves us of a great deal of anxiety about the safety of the ship.
The captain seems a little negligent, and sometimes does not observe
the compass once a day; but Mahood watches it with unsleeping
vigilance.

BRIG "OLGA," 800 MILES N.W. OF SAN FRANCISCO.
_Sunday, July 16, 1865_.

The monotony of our lives was relieved night before last, and our
seasickness aggravated, by a severe gale of wind from the north-west,
which compelled us to lie to for twenty hours under one close-reefed
maintopsail. The storm began late in the afternoon, and by nine
o'clock the wind was at its height and the sea rapidly rising.
The waves pounded like Titanic sledgehammers against the vessel's
quivering timbe