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RETURN TO THE STATES.
I dream of the east wind's tonic, Of the breakers' stormy roar, And the peace of the inner harbor With the long low Shimmo shore.
* * * * I long for the buoy-bell's tolling When the north wind brings from afar The smooth, green, shining billows, To be churned into foam on the bar.
Oh! for the sea-gulls' screaming As they swoop so bold and free! Oh! for the fragrant commons, And the glorious open sea!-- For the restful great contentment, For the joy that is never known Till past the jetty and Brant Point Light The Islander comes to his own! -- MARY E.STARBUCK.
"I must send you out.

I see that you cannot stand it here another month," said Jack one day; and so he bundled us onto the boat in the early spring, and took us down the river to meet the ocean steamer.
There was no question about it this time, and I well knew it.
I left my sister and her son in Ehrenberg, and I never saw my nephew again.

A month later, his state of health became so alarming that my sister took him to San Francisco.

He survived the long voyage, but died there a few weeks later at the home of my cousin.
At Fort Yuma we telegraphed all over the country for a nurse, but no money would tempt those Mexican women to face an ocean voyage.