s; and the big monkey, Jacko,
scoured about the ship and rested willingly in my arms, to the ruin of
my clothing; and the man of the stallions made a bower of the black
tarpaulin, and sat therein at the feet of a raddled divinity, like a
picture on a box of chocolates; and the other passengers, when they
were not sick, looked on and laughed. Take all this picture, and make
it roll till the bell shall sound unexpected notes and the fittings
shall break loose in our stateroom, and you have the voyage of the
_Ludgate Hill_. She arrived in the port of New York without beer,
porter, soda-water, curacoa, fresh meat, or fresh water; and yet we
lived, and we regret her."

He discovered this that there is no joy in the Universe comparable to
life on a villainous ocean tramp, rolling through a horrible sea in
company with a cargo of cattle.

"I have got one good thing of my sea voyage; it is proved the sea
agrees heartily with me, and my mother likes it; so if I get any
better, or no worse, my mother will likely hire a yacht for a month or
so in the summer. Good Lord! what fun! Wealth is only useful for two
things: a yacht and a string quartette. For these two I will sell my
soul. Except for these I hold that 700 pounds a year is as much as
anybody can possibly want; and I have had more, so I know, for the
extra coins were of no use, excepting for illness, which damns
everything. I was so happy on board that ship, I could not have
believed it possible; we had the beastliest weather, and many
discomforts; but the mere fact of its being a tramp ship gave us many
comforts. We could cut about with the men and officers, stay in the
wheel-house, discuss all manner of things, and really be a little at
sea. And truly there is nothing else. I had literally forgotten what
happiness was, and the full mind--full of external and physical
things, not full of cares and labours, and rot about a fellow's
behaviour. My heart literally sang; I truly care for nothing so much
as for that.

"To go ashore for your letters and hang about the pier among the
holiday yachtsmen--that's fame, that's glory--and nobody can take it
away."

At Saranac Lake the Stevensons lived in a "wind-beleaguered hill-top hat-
box of a house," which suited the invalid, but, on the other hand,
invalided his wife. Soon after getting there he plunged into _The Master
of