vessel moving, bringing refreshing coolness to the
sailor, and spreading life and healthful motion over the sea; not
less uncomfortable is the condition of a vessel when becalmed, as is
not seldom the case for many weeks together. With heavy heart the
mariner sees the breeze that so lately rippled the waves, gradually
die away, and leave the bosom of the ocean calm as a slumbering lake.
The sails hang flapping from the yards, the sea is motionless,
presenting a dull expanse of water as far as the eye can reach, and
no zephyrs float through the atmosphere to give relief from the
burning rays of the sun. The ship lies like a log on the water,
the discontent and murmurs of the crew increase every day, and in vain
do they try to drive the tedium away by practising all sorts of
diversion. But the night brings some relief, not only in her calm
beauty, but cooling dews refresh the heated atmosphere, and the moon
and stars shine forth in unsurpassable glory in the cloudless
heavens.

On the first of October, we passed the equator. Neptune, as is his
custom with all ships, honored us with a visit. With the early
twilight, we heard a deep bass voice that seemed to rise up out of the
waves, hail the ship in true nautical style. The helmsman answered
through his speaking trumpet, to the usual questions of where we were
bound, and from whence we had sailed. Two of the ship boys were
listening with all their ears, and peering curiously but vainly over
the bulwarks in order to get a sight of old Neptune. At length the
voice from the bowsprit made itself more audible, and in the
following manner. "I see that there are a few on board that have never
before been in my territory, and must submit to the regulations I
demand, as it becomes them to do." As the last words were uttered a
gigantic figure, his head covered with a periwig of knotted sea-grass,
with a false nose, and his face painted in various colors, now
ascended the ship's side, and clambered on deck. He carried a speaking
trumpet of three feet long in his right hand, under his left arm was a
few thick books, and from the leg of his boot a huge wooden compass
protruded itself. A masculine woman in whose soot-begrimed lineaments
I, with some trouble, recognized those of our boatswain, personating
Amphitrite, followed the god of the sea, carrying a long lubberly boy
in her arms, wrapped up in an old sail. They were introduced to us by
Neptune as his wife and son. Having advanced