We observed some further fine cloud effects to-day a little after sunrise, the horizon being smothered at frequent intervals with dense squalls; and at nine o’clock a ponderous mass of cumulus cloud appeared in the south, rearing its immense domes nearly to the zenith, like heaps of yellow wool, for the sun’s reflection changed the color of the great bank to that of rich cream, while far below, at the base, the cloud shaded off into a dim, sable mass. “There’s snow in that fellow,” quoth the skipper, which was certainly true, for ten minutes later we were swallowed up in a thick snow-squall, which lasted for fifteen or twenty minutes. Snow seemed to be a singular phenomenon on the second of July, not to mention the biting cold. Latitude 43° 8′ south; longitude, 56° 45′ west. +July 3+ This morning broke with a clear sky and little or no wind, and when the sun came up fine and rosy, he looked over the rim of the horizon across an azure sea just crinkled by a faint westerly breeze. Light as it was, though, there was a biting sting in it which, before breakfast, set the teeth chattering and raised one’s knuckles into big gristly knobs. The broad sweep of the South Atlantic was well-nigh motionless, for it was only at considerable intervals that a slight swell came sighing up from the Antarctic, and the sea was as calm as off Newport in August. Clothes suspended against the walls hung without motion, and we might well have fancied ourselves in Long Island Sound; as for the day, it was cloudless save for an occasional snow flurry, which lasted only a few minutes. This clear, cold, merry weather at sea is indescribably charming, though, no doubt, the men would tell a different tale, for Olsen and Jacquin, who were mending an old fine-weather royal on the cabin-house this morning, had to knock off work now and then to beat some feeling into their stiffened fingers before they could drive the needles through the canvas. [Illustration: Mending sails in fine weather]