greeted　us　the　next　morning　as　we　lay　beside　the　half…submerged
  levee　of　Sacramento。　　Here；　however；　the　novelty　of　boats　to　convey
  us　to　the　hotels　was　an　appeal　that　was　irresistible。　　I　resigned
  myself　to　a　dripping　rubber…cased　mariner　called　〃Joe；〃　and；
  wrapping　myself　in　a　shining　cloak　of　the　like　material；　about　as
  suggestive　of　warmth　as　court　plaster　might　have　been；　took　my　seat
  in　the　stern　sheets　of　his　boat。　　It　was　no　slight　inward　struggle
  to　part　from　the　steamer　that　to　most　of　the　passengers　was　the
  only　visible　connecting　link　between　us　and　the　dry　and　habitable
  earth；　but　we　pulled　away　and　entered　the　city；　stemming　a　rapid
  current　as　we　shot　the　levee。
  We　glided　up　the　long　level　of　K　Streetonce　a　cheerful；　busy
  thoroughfare；　now　distressing　in　its　silent　desolation。　　The　turbid
  water　which　seemed　to　meet　the　horizon　edge　before　us　flowed　at
  right　angles　in　sluggish　rivers　through　the　streets。　　Nature　had
  revenged　herself　on　the　local　taste　by　disarraying　the　regular
  rectangles　by　huddling　houses　on　street　corners；　where　they
  presented　abrupt　gables　to　the　current；　or　by　capsizing　them　in
  compact　ruin。　　Crafts　of　all　kinds　were　gliding　in　and　out　of　low…
  arched　doorways。　　The　water　was　over　the　top　of　the　fences
  surrounding　well…kept　gardens；　in　the　first　stories　of　hotels　and
  private　dwellings；　trailing　its　slime　on　velvet　carpets　as　well　as
  roughly　boarded　floors。　　And　a　silence　quite　as　suggestive　as　the
  visible　desolation　was　in　the　voiceless　streets　that　no　longer
  echoed　to　carriage　wheel　or　footfall。　　The　low　ripple　of　water；　the
  occasional　splash　of　oars；　or　the　warning　cry　of　boatmen　were　the
  few　signs　of　life　and　habitation。
  With　such　scenes　before　my　eyes　and　such　sounds　in　my　ears；　as　I
  lie　lazily　in　the　boat；　is　mingled　the　song　of　my　gondolier　who
  sings　to　the　music　of　his　oars。　　It　is　not　quite　as　romantic　as　his
  brother　of　the　Lido　might　improvise；　but　my　Yankee　〃Giuseppe〃　has
  the　advantage　of　earnestness　and　energy；　and　gives　a　graphic
  description　of　the　terrors　of　the　past　week　and　of　noble　deeds　of
  self…sacrifice　and　devotion；　occasionally　pointing　out　a　balcony
  from　which　some　California　Bianca　or　Laura　had　been　snatched；　half…
  clothed　and　famished。　　Giuseppe　is　otherwise　peculiar；　and　refuses
  the　proffered　fare；　foram　I　not　a　citizen　of　San　Francisco；　which
  was　first　to　respond　to　the　suffering　cry　of　Sacramento？　and　is　not
  he；　Giuseppe；　a　member　of　the　Howard　Society？　　No！　Giuseppe　is
  poor；　but　cannot　take　my　money。　　Still；　if　I　must　spend　it；　there
  is　the　Howard　Society；　and　the　women　and　children　without　food　and
  clothes　at　the　Agricultural　Hall。
  I　thank　the　generous　gondolier；　and　we　go　to　the　Halla　dismal；
  bleak　place；　ghastly　with　the　memories　of　last　year's　opulence　and
  plenty；　and　here　Giuseppe's　fare　is　swelled　by　the　stranger's　mite。
  But　here　Giuseppe　tells　me　of　the　〃Relief　Boat〃　which　leaves　for
  the　flooded　district　in　the　interior；　and　here；　profiting　by　the
  lesson　he　has　taught　me；　I　make　the　resolve　to　turn　my　curiosity　to
  the　account　of　others；　and　am　accepted　of　those　who　go　forth　to
  succor　and　help　the　afflicted。　　Giuseppe　takes　charge　of　my
  carpetbag；　and　does　not　part　from　me　until　I　stand　on　the　slippery
  deck　of　〃Relief　Boat　No。　3。〃
  An　hour　later　I　am　in　the　pilothouse；　looking　down　upon　what　was
  once　the　channel　of　a　peaceful　river。　　But　its　banks　are　only
  defined　by　tossing　tufts　of　willow　washed　by　the　long　swell　that
  breaks　over　a　vast　inland　sea。　　Stretches　of　〃tule〃　land　fertilized
  by　its　once　regular　channel　and　dotted　by　flourishing　ranchos　are
  now　cleanly　erased。　　The　cultivated　profile　of　the　old　landscape
  had　faded。　　Dotted　lines　in　symmetrical　perspective　mark　orchards
  that　are　buried　and　chilled　in　the　turbid　flood。　　The　roofs　of　a
  few　farmhouses　are　visible；　and　here　and　there　the　smoke　curling
  from　chimneys　of　half…submerged　tenements　shows　an　undaunted　life
  within。　　Cattle　and　sheep　are　gathered　on　Indian　mounds　waiting　the
  fate　of　their　companions　whose　carcasses　drift　by　us；　or　swing　in
  eddies　with　the　wrecks　of　barns　and　outhouses。　　Wagons　are　stranded
  everywhere　where　the　tide　could　carry　them。　　As　I　wipe　the
  moistened　glass；　I　see　nothing　but　water；　pattering　on　the　deck
  from　the　lowering　clouds；　dashing　against　the　window；　dripping　from
  the　willows；　hissing　by　the　wheels；　everywhere　washing；　coiling；
  sapping；　hurrying　in　rapids；　or　swelling　at　last　into　deeper　and
  vaster　lakes；　awful　in　their　suggestive　quiet　and　concealment。
  As　day　fades　into　night　the　monotony　of　this　strange　prospect　grows
  oppressive。　　I　seek　the　engine　room；　and　in　the　company　of　some　of
  the　few　half…drowned　sufferers　we　have　already　picked　up　from
  temporary　rafts；　I　forget　the　general　aspect　of　desolation　in　their
  individual　misery。　　Later　we　meet　the　San　Francisco　packet；　and
  transfer　a　number　of　our　passengers。　　From　them　we　learn　how
  inward…bound　vessels　report　to　have　struck　the　well…defined　channel
  of　the　Sacramento；　fifty　miles　beyond　the　bar。　　There　is　a
  voluntary　contribution　taken　among　the　generous　travelers　for　the
  use　of　our　afflicted；　and　we　part　company　with　a　hearty　〃Godspeed〃
  on　either　side。　　But　our　signal　lights　are　not　far　distant　before　a
  familiar　sound　comes　back　to　usan　indomitable　Yankee　cheerwhich
  scatters　the　gloom。
  Our　course　is　altered；　and　we　are　steaming　over　the　obliterated
  banks　far　in　the　interior。　　Once　or　twice　black　objects　loom　up
  near　usthe　wrecks　of　houses　floating　by。　　There　is　a　slight　rift
  in　the　sky　toward　the　north；　and　a　few　bearing　stars　to　guide　us
  over　the　waste。　　As　we　penetrate　into　shallower　water；　it　is　deemed
  advisable　to　divide　our　party　into　smaller　boats；　and　diverge　over
  the　submerged　prairie。　　I　borrow　a　peacoat　of　one　of　the　crew；　and
  in　that　practical　disguise　am　doubtfully　permitted　to　pass　into　one
  of　the　boats。　　We　give　way　northerly。　　It　is　quite　dark　yet；
  although　the　rift　of　cloud　has　widened。
  It　must　have　been　about　three　o'clock；　and　we　were　lying　upon　our
  oars　in　an　eddy　formed　by　a　clump　of　cottonwood；　and　the　light　of
  the　steamer　is　a　solitary；　bright　star　in　the　distance；　when　the
  silence　is　broken　by　the　〃bow　oar〃：
  〃Light　ahead。〃
  All　eyes　are　turned　in　that　direction。　　In　a　few　seconds　a
  twinkling　light　appears；　shines　steadily；　and　again　disappears　as
  if　by　the　shifting　position　of　some　black　object　apparently
  drifting　close　upon　us。
  〃Stern；　all；　a　steamer！〃
  〃Hold　hard　there！　　Steamer　be　damned！〃　is　the　reply　of　the
  coxswain。　　〃It's　a　house；　and　a　big　one　too。〃
  It　is　a　big　one；　looming　in　the　starlight　like　a　huge　fragment　of
  the　darkness。　　The　light　comes　from　a　single　candle；　which　shines
  through　a　window　as　the　great　shape　swings　by。　　Some　recollection
  is　drifting　back　to　me　with　it　as　I　listen　with　beating　heart。
  〃There's　someone　in　it；　by　heavens！　　Give　way；　boyslay　her
  alongside。　　Handsomely；　now！　　The　door's　fastened；　try　the　window；
  no！　here's　another！〃
  In　another　moment　we　are　trampling　in　the　water　which　washes　the
  floor　to　the　depth　of　several　inches。　　It　is　a　large　room；　at　the
  farther　end　of　which　an　old　man　is　sitting　wrapped　in　a　blanket；
  holding　a　candle　in　one　hand；　and　apparently　absorbed　in　the　book
  he　holds　with　the　other。　　I　spring　toward　him　with　an　exclamation：
  〃Joseph　Tryan！〃
  He　does　not　move。　　We　gather　closer　to　him；　and　I　lay　my　hand
  gently　on　his　shoulder；　and　say：
  〃Look　up；　old　man；　look　up！　　Your　wife　and　children；　where　are
  they？　　The　boysGeorge！　　Are　they　here？　are　they　safe？〃
  He　raises　his　head　slowly；　and　turns　his　eyes　to　mine；　and　we
  involuntarily　recoil　before　his　look。　　It　is　a　calm　and　quiet
  glance；　free　from　fear；　anger；　or　pain；　but　it　somehow　sends　the
  blood　curdling　through　our　veins。　　He　bowed　his　head　over　his　book
  again；　taking　no　further　notice　of　us。　　The　men　look　at　me
  compassionately；　and　hold　their　peace。　　I　make　one　more　effort：
  〃Joseph　Tryan；　don't　you　know　me？　the　surveyor　who　surveyed　your
  ranchthe　Espiritu　Santo？　　Look　up；　old　man！〃
  He　shuddered　and　wrapped　himself　closer　in　his　blanket。　　Presently
  he　repeated　to　himself　〃The　surveyor　who　surveyed　your　ranch
  Espiritu　Santo〃　over　and　over　again；　as　though　it　were　a　lesson　he
  was　trying　to　fix　in　his　memory。
  I　was　turning　sadly　to　the　boatmen　when　he　suddenly　caught　me
  fearfully　by　the　hand　and　said：
  〃Hush！〃
  We　were　silent。
  〃Listen！〃　　He　puts　his　arm　around　my　neck　and　whispers　in　my　ear；
  〃I'm　a　MOVING　OFF！〃
  〃Moving　off？〃
  〃Hush！　　Don't　speak　so　loud。　　Moving　off。　　Ah！　wot's　that？　　Don't
  you　hear？there！　listen！〃
  We　listen；　and　hear　the　water　gurgle　and　click　beneath　the　floor。
  〃It's　them　wot　he　sent！Old　Altascar　sent。　　They've　been　here　all
  night。　　I　heard　'em　first　in　the　creek；　when　they　came　to　tell　the
  old　man　to　move　farther　off。　　They　came　nearer　and　nearer。