NOTEBOOK

Whether we're on the sea or the land

We've all got to go at the word of command—

Hey!—how's that?"

Thursday, June 13, 1867. On board steamer Quaker
City at sea. 12 N.—lat. 40, long. 62—560 miles from
N. Y., J4 of the way to the Azores—just 3 days out—
in last 24 hrs. made 205 miles. Will make more in next
24, because the wind is fair and we are under sail and
steam both, burning 30 tons of coal a day and fast light-
ening up the ship.

Friday. Shipped a sea through the open dead-light;
damaged cigars, books and etc.—comes of being careless
when room is on the weather side of the ship.

Prayer-meetings every night.

The Quaker City Mirror is not issued very regularly.

Heavy gale down among Azores; threw Capt. Duncan
across cabin from dinner table, swept dishes away and
fetched away iron water-cooler, which smashed seat just
vacated by Mr. Church. Most folks in bed sick—tre-
mendous sea running all afternoon—fierce gale. Shall I
never see lightning and thunder any more?

June 2 ist, Azores. Daylight. Arrived at the port of
Horta, Island of Fayal—Island of Pico, where the fruits
are, is opposite and looks beautiful, with its green slopes
and snow white houses.

Rode jackass, on mattress, with sawbuck for a saddle,
10 miles among the hills, caverns and beautiful scenery
of the suburbs, with a troop of barefooted, noisy, young
patched-and-ragged devils following with gads. Paid 3oc
an hour for the jack.

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