another canoe was seen coming, if possible, with greater swiftness, the men paddling and propelling her like athletes, while she darted through the water with the celerity of an arrow from a well-strung bow; and being in a moment alongside our vessel the occupants lost no time in endeavoring to barter their fish for bread and clothes. During the progress of these negotiations some sea-biscuit was given them, which they devoured with evident relish. These fishermen did not have stupid faces, but their countenances beamed with an intelligent and eager interest when nearing us; not merely an animal eagerness, nor was it that dull and brutified expression which some maintain to be a predominant characteristic of the African in a state of nature. The vessel being once more under way, one of our Anglo-African friends complacently waved his hand, and, bowing, said “Adieu!” and when responded to by some one on board ship, seemed much delighted, and, as if proud of his knowledge of the English language, animatingly rejoined,--“Good-night!” A good-night salutation from such a source, and addressed to us, a company of voyagers from the far-off occident, who at that moment were in danger of _coup de soleil_ from the mid-day heat of a blazing tropical sun, afforded us great merriment; and altogether, our falling in with this strangely unfortunate race broke pleasantly into the monotony of our sea-life, and gave us new and interesting topics of thought and conversation. The coast opposite was about fifty miles from Monrovia, and these fishermen had probably obtained the little knowledge of English, which they possessed, in process of intercourse with that settlement. The next night we passed Cape Palmas,--a point we greatly wished to see,--but the sky was dark, and no land visible. Before morning, however, we had reached the Gulf of Guinea, and on the 21st of November passed the most eastern meridian of Greenwich, crossing the equator the same night. Our entrance into the South Atlantic was disagreeable in the extreme. It was the rainy season, which one must experience in order to have any idea of the discomforts of its damp, chilly, and yet sultry atmosphere. Everything becomes saturated with moisture, and “the damp, the mould, the rain,” penetrates into one’s bone and marrow, as well as into all of one’s personal effects. We found it necessary to put on woollen garments, although the mercury indicated a temperature of 84° and upwards,--one day reaching even to 93°. Accustomed as all of us were to great extremes of heat, this weather proved most trying and debilitating,--the chilly dampness giving us aching limbs; nor was the blazing tropical sun, which shone forth with its withering heat, after every shower, less to be dreaded.