rom the lonely William, and
he muttered: "I declare for 't, if I haven't made a mistake! It's D
that's mostly loom, not E. And John's booked for a sandy site after
all."

There was another soft chuckle, and William departed to his rest also.

The next day, in New York, was a hot one. Still we managed to get more
or less entertainment out of it. Toward the middle of the afternoon we
arrived on board the stanch steamship Bermuda, with bag and baggage, and
hunted for a shady place. It was blazing summer weather, until we were
half-way down the harbor. Then I buttoned my coat closely; half an hour
later I put on a spring overcoat and buttoned that. As we passed the
light-ship I added an ulster and tied a handkerchief around the collar to
hold it snug to my neck. So rapidly had the summer gone and winter come
again?

By nightfall we were far out at sea, with no land in sight. No telegrams
could come here, no letters, no news. This was an uplifting thought. It
was still more uplifting to reflect that the millions of harassed people
on shore behind us were suffering just as usual.

The next day brought us into the midst of the Atlantic solitudes--out of
smoke-colored sounding into fathomless deep blue; no ships visible
anywhere over the wide ocean; no company but Mother Carey's chickens
wheeling, darting, skimming the waves in the sun. There were some
seafaring men among the passengers, and conversation drifted into matter
concerning ships and sailors. One said that "true as the needle to the
pole" was a bad figure, since the needle seldom pointed to the pole.
He said a ship's compass was not faithful to any particular point, but
was the most fickle and treacherous of the servants of man. It was
forever changing. It changed every day in the year; consequently the
amount of the daily variation had to be ciphered out and allowance made
for it, else the mariner would go utterly astray. Another said there was
a vast fortune waiting for the genius who should invent a compass that
would not be affected by the local influences of an iron ship. He said
there was only one creature more fickle than a wooden ship's compass,
and that was the compass of an iron ship. Then came reference to the
well known fact that an experienced mariner can look at the compass of a
new iron vessel, thousands of mile from her birthplace, and tell which
way her head was pointing when she was in process of building.

Now an ancient whal