e ocean currents along the coast of Coromandel are marked and curious,
requiring special care in navigation. Unless observations can be had by
aid of the sun at noon-day, no ship is sure of her position; dead
reckoning will not answer here. We were reminded in these waters of
other currents: the Gulf Stream, for instance, on our own shore, finds
its rise in the tropics, say in the Caribbean Sea and Gulf of Mexico,
moves northeast along the American coast, gets a cant on the banks of
Newfoundland, and after crossing the Atlantic, spends its force on the
shores of Western Europe. The Japan Current, as it is called by seamen,
originates in the Indian Ocean, moves northward along the eastern shore
of Asia, and is divided by the Aleutian Islands and the Alaska
Peninsula, one branch going to the Arctic Ocean, and the other along the
west coast of America into the South Pacific. These details become very
interesting to the traveler when passing long weeks upon the ocean,
observing how the vessel in which he sails is either favored or retarded
by these known forces.

Our course was due north until we anchored at the mouth of the Hoogly
River to await a favorable tide, finally arriving at Calcutta on the
evening of the 15th of January. The intricate navigation of the Hoogly,
with its treacherous sands and ever-shifting shoals, is conducted by a
pilot system especially organized by government, and is composed
exclusively of Englishmen. No vessel can hope to ascend the river safely
without being in charge of one of these pilots. We saw a large iron
steamship, which was a quarter of a mile ahead of the Teheran, in her
attempt to make the mouth of the Hoogly, caught by an adverse current,
through what seemed to be a very trifling miscalculation, and she was
cast aground as quickly as though blown on a lee shore by a tornado. We
passed her as we went in, with both her anchors out, adopting various
nautical expedients to get afloat. As the accident occurred on a rising
tide, we have no doubt that she finally got free from her dangerous
position.

Calcutta is the political capital of India, but since the opening of
the Suez Canal, Bombay rivals it in all commercial respects. It was
rather surprising to find so poor a hotel as the "Great Eastern" proved
to be. It is calculated to receive within its walls at least one hundred
to one hundred and fifty guests, and yet does not present the ordinary
domestic comforts to be found in an Ameri