The temperature has fallen, too, and to-day reached the freezing point of fresh water, sea-water congealing at about 28°. To our surprise, the sun showed himself at noon, and though the horizon was bad, we got an approximately good sight, which showed that the orb was only 11° high, and that we were a degree south of Cape Horn and fifty miles east of it. Latitude, 56° 58′ south; longitude, 66° west. +July 16+ Hove to in a heavy gale, Cape Horn in sight, bearing at noon east by north distant about fifteen miles! Yesterday afternoon it was very mild as far as wind was concerned, and I went down on the main-deck and did a lot of pumping to make up for the days lost through bad weather, when it was dangerous to try it. From the main-deck the seas looked infinitely larger than from the poop, the difference in elevation of six or seven feet making an immense difference in their apparent height. All through the early part of the night it was fine, and we set the upper mizzen-top-sail and the spanker. By the way, it is remarkable that a ship-rigged vessel will steer well with hardly any after-canvas set. For instance, for some time previously the only sail on the mizzen was the lower topsail; while forward were a jib, foretop-mast stay-sail, both topsails, and reefed foresail. The squalls, too, eased up as the moon rose, and up to 2 +A.M.+ the weather was fine. At midnight, though, a sinister movement was noticed in the aneroid, the needle rising rapidly from 29. Every one who knows Cape Horn understands what this signifies with a westerly breeze,--it means a gale of wind. True to precedent, when we went on deck after breakfast, the ship being then on the port tack, it was breezing rapidly. After each squall it blew harder and harder, with proportionally increasing sea, and the skipper ventured the opinion that we were going to see a Cape Horn “snorter.” At ten o’clock the main-sail had to come in, the ship from being driven too hard taking in large quantities of water, especially from the lee side. So both watches were called, and it was a spirited scene as the sturdy fellows stretched along the deck, heedless of the seas that thundered aboard every few minutes, while they manned the weather main-clew-garnet with a chorus that rose above the gale. Brave? A more courageous lot of men than Cape Horn foremast hands do not exist!