erribly rough all night. Could not sleep for the thought
that every swell might end the ship's struggles. Felt much nearer
to the dear ones who have crossed the great river than to those on
this side. Out of sight of land all day and ship making only two
and a half miles an hour.

5th day.--The same pitching down into the ocean's depths, the same
unbounded waste of surging waters, but a slight lessening of the
sea-sickness.

6th day.--Quite steady this morning. Went on deck and met several
pleasant people. Took my spirit-lamp and treated the captain's
table to some delicious tea.

7th day.--First word this morning, "bar in sight." The shores look
beautiful. All faces are bright and cheery and many appear not seen
before. I felt well enough to discuss the woman question with
several of the passengers. Arrived at Portland at 10 P.M., glad
indeed to touch foot on land again.

In the first letter home she says:

Abigail Scott Duniway, editor of the New Northwest, was my first
caller this morning. I like her appearance and she will be business
manager of my lectures. The second caller was Mr. Murphy, city
editor of the Herald, and the third Rev. T.L. Eliot, of the
Unitarian church, son of Rev. William Eliot, of St. Louis. I am to
take tea at his house next Monday. I am not to speak until
Wednesday, and thus give myself time to get my head straightened
and, I hope, my line of argument. Mrs. Duniway thinks I will find
two months of profitable work in Oregon and Washington Territory,
but I hardly believe it possible. If meetings pay so as to give me
hope of adding to my $350 in the San Francisco Bank (my share of
the profits on Mrs. Stanton's and my lectures, which we divided
evenly), making it reach $2,000 or even $1,000 by December first, I
shall plod away.

I miss Mrs. Stanton, still I can not but enjoy the feeling that the
people call on _me_, and the fact that I have an opportunity to
sharpen my wits a little by answering questions and doing the
chatting, instead of merely sitting a lay figure and listening to
the brilliant scintillations as they emanate from her
never-exhausted magazine. There is no alternative--whoever goes
into a parlor or before an audience with that woman does it at the
cost of a fearful overshadowing, a price which I have paid for the
last ten