While exploring the rocky gullies and canyons in the foothills of Mount Ararat last summer, I found a roughly symmetrical mass of pure copper. Oxidized and honeycombed as it was, I recognized the metal immediately, and repressing a strong inclination to hunt for the lead and stake out my claim, I took my find home with me. Surprised at its diminishing weight as the moisture dried out of the spongy mass, I endeavored to saw into it. The pure metal inside tore off every tooth of the saw, and now convinced that it was a hollow cylinder of hardened copper, I brought it to America and gave it to a machinist to open. He ruined two dozen finely-tempered saws in the job, which I cheerfully settled for, as the cylinder contained a papyrus roll of manuscript of certainly great antiquity.

My efforts to decipher it were baffled, as it was written in neither ancient nor modern Egyptian, new nor old Pali, nor in Greek, Latin, Sanscrit, nor in any other language with which I am acquainted. So I called in the services of two reverend friends of mine—able, eminent, and renowned professors of biology, bibliology, ethnology, and sockdology—who at once pronounced it ancient Cush and proceeded to translate it; one remarking with a levity which but indifferently became his calling, as I thought, that the exceeding toughness of the yarn no doubt accounted for the difficulty of sawing into it—in which view his collaborator, to my surprise, was inclined to coincide.

However, I cheerfully give them credit for the translation, but am free to maintain that the elegance of diction, force of expression, and choiceness of synonyms are my own.

Besides, I found it.

THE LOG.

Mon., 7 days out. Raining yet, very hard—A few sinners still on deck; a bunch got washed off last night; kinder sorry for them—Ham will get a rope's-end if he don't look out; he skylarks too much with the animals; put all the dogs in the cats' cage last night, and the whole menagerie got excited at the row they made; couldn't hear ourselves think for two hours; every brute in the outfit sung his song—Roof leaks—Women say it's washday and have started in on the week's wash; just like women; how'll they dry clothes this weather?

Course E. B. S. Ham at the wheel, Shem on the lookout.

Tues., 8 days out. 4 bells. Women are growling because the sun don't shine so the wash can dry; told them such murmuring as they indulged in was flying straight in the face of Providence; told me to mind my own business; remarked that I was captain here and wouldn't take back talk from anyone; hove a bucket of water over me, durn them. 6 bells. Got my log line strung up along 'tween decks and the whole blamed wash triced up in everybody's way. If I want to heave the log at 8 bells, overboard goes the wash, and don't care who likes it; I'm boss here. 8 bells. Didn't heave the log—Guess we're making four knots; wind fresh.

Course E. S. E. Shem at the wheel, Japheth on the lookout.

Wed., 9 days out. Ironing day; blowing a gale of wind; women are making hard work of it and getting seasick—Hove to at 8 bells this morning; lays easy; kicked Ham away from the wheel and steered his trick; afraid I can't make a sailor of him; wish I'd saved a few sinners to work ship; could have drowned them afterwards.

Heading N. E. by N. Japheth at the wheel.

Thurs., 10 days out. Wish I knew who drinks my whiskey—Made sail at daylight; difficult work, this handling sail below decks; can't see aloft, must feel when sheets are home; don't like these new fangled rolling topsails that furl themselves; they're not shipshape, but we're too short-handed for the old style—Wind going down.

Course due E. Shem at the wheel, Ham on the lookout.

Fri., 11 days out. Foggy; can't see two lengths; two of us on the lookout—Ham is under the scuttlebutt, drunk; whiskey lower; slight connection here, maybe—Women are quarreling among themselves; they're a heap of trouble; never quiet till they're seasick; found out they get seasick in a head sea; will remember this—The lion got out last night and made a lunch out of my wife's pet dog Beauty; chased him back to his cage with a handspike; sorry I had to hurt him; seven pugs left now; we started with a pair to each woman.

No wind and nobody at the wheel.

Sat., 12 days out. Wish it would clear up; sinners must be all dead by this time—Have had a hard day of it; that boy Ham let go the port anchor, and the whole range of chain, 45 fathoms, went out the hawse-pipe and fetched up with a jerk that carried away the windlass bitts and nearly tore the bows off her; kicked him up on deck in the rain while we mended the windlass; hunted him up to help heave in chain and found he'd sneaked down, got at my jug, and was dead drunk alongside the same; don't see what the Lord wanted to save him for—Must be clear of soundings now, so will keep her hove to for a while under short sail, with the wheel lashed down.

Sun., 13 days out. Held religious exercises at 4 bells; Ham attended, very devout and penitent, with a head as big as the jug—Women have tricked themselves out and are mincing around showing off; made me put on a white shirt; will get rid of it directly—Dead calm all day—Found the ark had a slight list to starboard; investigated, and discovered about three tons of stones, dead cats, and garbage stuck fast to the pitch outside; these things are what the sinners threw at the ark after we came aboard—Have locked up my whiskey.

Wed., 16 days out. Made a great mistake when we started; was puzzled how to feed the spiders, mosquitoes, bedbugs, and such; turned them loose to hustle for themselves, and that's what they've done ever since—Another pug disappeared last night; six left; gave Ham a talking to about getting drunk; was sassy and I boxed his ears; told him if I ever saw him drunk again aboard my ship I'd log him; he don't seem to care, but that's what I'll do every time—Still hove to.

Sun., 20 days out. Ham broke into my locker last night, and is roaring drunk again; can't find the jug; will log him every time now—No religious exercises to-day; women are complaining of my impiety, but a man can't feel resigned when he has just lost a four-gallon jug of the best Egyptian corn whiskey.

Mon., 21 days out. Ham's drunk.

Tues., 22 days out. Ditto's ditto.

Wed., 23 days out.    Do.    do.

Thurs., 24 days out. Do. blind do.

Fri., 25 days out. Do. dead do.

Sat., 26 days out. Do. got snakes; got 'em bad; wish I could find that jug.

Sun., 27 days out. Two more pugs missing; must keep away from the lion's cage when the women are around; he seems too pleased to see me, and they are getting suspicious; four of the ugly brutes left now—found my jug; Ham stowed it in my own bunk; he's smarter than I thought—Had religious exercises; women wanted to mourn for their pugs; am willing they should mourn—Took a cast of the lead at noon; thirty fathoms, mud bottom; made sail and squared away due E.

Mon., 28 days out. My wife has confiscated the jug and means to keep it; we'll see about that; says it is the cause of poor, dear Ham's sickness; undoubtedly; should have let it alone—Shem at the wheel, Japheth on the lookout.

Course E.

Wed., 30 days out. Mutiny! Bloody Mut—— d——n! ——!! (Note—Here the manuscript bears evidence that Captain Noah was suddenly interrupted while writing.—Translator.)

Fri., 32 days out. Have had a lively time; discipline is restored, but the whiskey jug is gone—smashed over my head—all on account of the pugs; had hoped to rid the world of these parodies on the canine race, and would have succeeded if my wife hadn't overhauled my pockets when I was asleep and read this log. Certain references to the pugs put her on the lookout and she and the other women watched me; one of the brutes littered that night; I couldn't resist the temptation, and so fed the whole batch, mother and all, to the lion; in a minute had four furious women afoul of me, biting and clawing; sung out for help, and Shem and Japheth bore down and rescued me; Ham helped the women and made a majority for them; his mother had the jug, that's why; managed to floor him with a pump-brake, but they were still too many for us and chased us around decks till they got tired and sat down to cry; got to my room and began writing them down in the log when they started in again; my wife smashed the whiskey jug over my head—then we all escaped on deck and went aloft; couldn't follow us, but sat down and said things—Had a council of war, then Shem shinned over to the foremast and cut away all the jib halliards and sheets and halliards on the fore—Ark had broached to in trough sea when Japheth left the wheel to help me, and had laid there with yards square and rolling considerable; women could stand that motion, but not a head sea, so now when she came up to the wind and began pounding up and down and drifting astern, they got qualmish and in twenty minutes were sprawled out helpless; Ham didn't know enough to take the wheel and throw her off, so we came down, tied the women hand and foot, and then went for Ham; triced him up and rope's-ended him till his nose bled; begged and howled, but had to take it and learn that mutiny is unsafe aboard my ship—Kept her head to the sea till we had spliced and rove off the gear, then set canvas and squared away again—Women got better; read the articles to them; were penitent and promised to behave, but before turning them loose we went on a pug hunt and passed two of them in to the lion; only one left now, but we haven't found it yet; women howled a good deal and called us heartless, cruel fiends—that's all right.

My wife had lost the log-book in her excitement, and I only found it to-day.

Course N. E. by E. Shem at the wheel. Jap on the lookout.

Sun., 34 days out. No religious services to-day; women are talking about me—don't talk to me; if they do, I'll speak of that jug.

Course due E. Blowing fresh. J. at the wheel, S. on lookout.

Mon., 35 days out. Wash day, but there is no washing going on; won't have it; am captain here; they were ugly at first, but I hauled her on a wind and said nothing; can't find that pug—Keep Ham at work on the menagerie now, feeding the animals and cleaning the cages—Dead calm.

Wed., 37 days out. Nothing new; pug still missing; good mind to turn the lion loose; he'll find the cur.

Fri., 39 days out. If I don't find that pug to-day, will let the lion out first thing to-morrow.

Sat., 40 days out. Stopped raining—We all went on deck this morning; it was a frightful picture—sun shining, not a cloud in the sky and not a sign of land nor ship, nor even a bird, in all this expanse of desolation; no life nor joyousness, nothing but muddy water; the dead world fathoms underneath, and we alone, with our ark, all that was left; and whiskey gone—not a shot in the locker.

At noon locked up the women and turned the lion loose; he didn't find the pug, but found most everything else; smashed some bird cages and a raven and dove got away; dove came back at sundown, but the raven didn't; let all the birds out to get the air and roost up aloft.

Sat., 47 days out. Chicken missing this morning; suspect Ham of stealing it—A pigeon fluttered down on deck with a green leaf fast in its gullet and half choked; pulled leaf out; pigeon must have been somewhere else and got it; will keep to the eastward and look out for land.

Tues., 50 days out. Blowing great guns, and dismasted; under double reefs, storm spanker, and foretopmast staysail at daylight; blew away the staysail; set jib; that went too and took jibboom; cut away the wreck; she came up to the wind, caught aback, and away went the mizzenmast at the deck; cut that away, paid off in the trough of the sea, and rolled the fore and mainmast out; cleared away everything, rigged out a sea anchor, and now were riding it out comfortable—that is, for us; women are all sick.

Land to the eastward, small island.

60 days out. Land still in sight; gets bigger; suppose the water is going down; nothing to do now but eat, sleep, and hunt for that pug—Still riding at the sea anchor.

100 days out. Pug must be dead—More land showing up.

150 days out. Noon—Driving on a lee shore stern foremost; getting anchors ready; sundown—let go both anchors as we got close in; dragged, and here we are, with every sea making a clean sweep over us; ark won't last long; getting out liferaft and turning animals loose.

Next morning. Floated ashore all right; ark is breaking up and animals swimming in; last to come were that missing pug and seven half-grown pups; submit to the will of Providence, but still think women had the durned brute hid in the lower hold.

Next day. Poor place to live on this island—Nothing grown, but a grapevine I found on the beach; will take care of it; it means grapes, and grapes mean juice, and it's been a long time between drinks—Ham is quite useful now; takes a deep interest in the vine and helps me 'tend it.

Month later. Grapevine is doing well.

Four months later. Grapes appearing.

Two months later. Picked the grapes; now for some wine—Ham is a model boy; did him good to rope's-end him.

Five months later. Wine has worked; will serve grog to-morrow and celebrate the anniversary of our shipwreck.

Next day. (The manuscript of this last day's entry is obscure, and so incoherent, as to make it strongly probable that Captain Noah served the grog as indicated, and that he wrote while under the influence of the same. There are, however, some legible references to certain "pugs" which would go to show that he still had those animals in mind and perhaps regretted his failure to effect their extinction.—Translator.)