SUNDAY AT REST. 
107 
a savage state that he can hardly be caught when 
wanted! 
“September 11, Sunday.—To-day came to us the first 
quiet Sunday of harbor life. We changed our log re¬ 
gistration from sea-time to the familiar home series that 
begins at midnight. It is not only that the season has 
BUTLER'S ISLAND STOREHOUSE. 
given us once more a local habitation; but there is 
something in the return of varying day and night 
that makes it grateful to reinstate this domestic obser¬ 
vance. The long staring day, which has clung to us 
for more than two months, to the exclusion of the 
stars, has begun to intermit its brightness. Even Al- 
debaran, the red eye of the Bull, flared out into fami¬ 
liar recollection as early as ten o’clock; and the hear 
_ 
