silence, so silent that I could hear my heart beat. I thought a moment as to the course I should pursue, and then, still holding my pistol in readiness, arose, walked to the door, unlocked it and stepped out into the bright moon- Kght, closed the door after me and walked off. What do you think of this? Isn't this romance enough to satisfy any man? I certainly am a hero now, although I am not certain as to whether heroes do exactly right in walking off without paying for their lodging. Under the circumstances however it might be excused.
Now we will leave Valparaiso. We set sail on the 3rd of October and after a beautiful passage of only 50 days arrived here. The mud [is] knee deep, some places absolutely impassable; the weather has been pleasant for the past few days but now the rain is pouring in torrents and may do so for weeks without cessation. It is the vilest place I ever set foot in, yet there are 30,000 people here ashore and four vessels arriving daily. It is very sickly, hardly one escaping an attack of Dysentery or Fever. There are not houses sufficient for the immense number who are here, and the main part are liv- ing in tents. I am at present living on board the Barque, but have come ashore to night in order to finish my letters. I have a great many to write and fear that I shall have to be short with all of them except yours of course, for the mail closes in a day or so. I am at this moment in a large frame building on the water side belonging to a friend from New Haven engaged in the shipping business; the building is 60 by 100 feet and rents for $2500 per month. I have a red Indian blanket to wrap around me and a soft pine plank for a bed; 'tis not only past the witching hour, but nearly 2 o'clock. I must dispense with poetry in closing for nothing around me is very suggestive of poetical ideas; I fear you would weep for me could you survey the scene.
Sincerely yours, W.H.D.
San Fran., Nov. 28, 1849. Dear J.
Here I am at last, safe sound and hearty, seated in Charley F. Hotchkiss' store^ on the water side in San Francisco. We arrived on the 2 2d, lost no one on the voyage, all well and hearty. Of the events of the voyage I will say very little in this letter, reserving a full description thereof for a future letter, I will simply say that Cape Horn is all it is represented; 17 vessels would not tempt me to go through again what we have suffered. We saw the elephant for the first time off the La Plata River and had him in full view until we got into the Pacific, a period of two months, during which time we suffered inconceivably. The ship was at times a complete mass of ice from deck to masthead and three different times we thought ourselves booked for "Davy Jones' Locker." However we managed to live through it, and ar- rived safe at Valparaiso. I remained there over two weeks recruiting. We
