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 Sept., x9o5 [ AMONG THE SEA BIRDS OFF THE OREGON COAST, PART I x23 It took us, in all: about a day's work with a sntall rock-drill and axe to level off a space wide euough for a bed. For all our attempts at breaking the boulders fine enough to make then as soft as possible, the jagged points mtnoyed us somewhat during the first night, and occasionally we had to reach under and shift the larger ones. This bed worked a trifle on our nerves, and the second day, we took the pains to pull a couple of sacks of the watery weed that grew on the roof of the rock, and spread it for a mattress. This native bedding was soft but brimful of wetness. We dropped to sleep readily, but always awoke about mid- night, when the mattress began to steam, and there wasn't a night when I didn't feel the sensation of getting a third-class Turkish bath. Just on the next two fiats above our roof, were two large "chicken yards" of nturres. Although everything was open about our camp, the ventilation was vile. Sleeping next that chicken yard on the floor above, was worse than a rootn with the doors and windows opening into a pig pen. But what could we do? The whole island was rancid, from the sea-lion bath-tub at the bottom, to the cormorant collection at the very tip, in spite of the airing it got from every wind of heaven. After breakfast, we started out. Robinson Crusoe-like, to explore the island. We found the only path to the top was working along and passing from ledge to ledge. This was rather difficult in three places. Just above the tent was a wall twelve feet high, that had to be scaled with a rope nr pole. Crawling along through the two murre rookeries under the over-hanging rocks, one had to ascend