ps. The ocean color is deepening: it is very rich now, but I think less wonderful than before;-it is an

the air is like the air of an oven. Above-deck, however, the effect of all this light and heat is not altogether disa

sunset! There is a painting in the west wrought of cloud-colors,-a dream of high carmine

r prow ripples rimmed with fire keep fleeing away to right and left into the night,-brightening as they run, then vanishing suddenly as if they had passed over a precipice. Crests of swells seem to burst into showers of sparks, and great patches of spume catch flame, smoulder through, and disappear.... The Southern Cross is visibl

d,-in part to the ceaseless booming of waters and roar of rigging, which drown men's voices; but I fancy it is much more d