Perhaps the most agreeable man in the ship is David MacFoy, and we talked together for half an hour yesterday at about six o’clock. “This is a tedious place, mister,” said he; “we were three weeks here in the Doldrums a couple of months ago in the ‘P. N. Blanchard,’ from Manila to Boston. We’ll be awhile here now if signs count; and what’s that we’ve got ahead of us?--the Horn in mid-winter! Oh dear, dear! The last time I went round to the westward was in the ‘Tam o’ Shanter,’ a couple of years ago now, and we were forty-nine days off Cape Horn, and that much snow that in half an hour the lee decks would be full o’ drift. But d’ye know, I’d rather double the Horn to the west’ard than run the eastin’ down goin’ out to China and Australia. If yer do get heavier sou’west gales there, you’re hove to comfortable-like; but runnin’ to the east’ard, it’s a terrible thing to have them greyhounds a-chasin’ yer. On the last passage out to Wellington two hands were washed overboard out o’ the waist, another was washed away from the wheel off the poop, and a fourth poor fellow fell from the upper mizzen-top-sail-yard, and only lived ten minutes. Oh! that other’s a crool cape, sir. No, I’m not married; there’s too many grog-shops around. Now, look: when I landed in Boston a few weeks ago from the ‘Blanchard’ I had a hundred and seventy-six dollars comin’ to me. That was on a Friday. The next Monday I landed in New York with fifty cents, and signed here next day; but that was pretty quick work.” This, and much more, did the big, handsome Scot reveal to me, in the pleasant accents of his native land, and with that knack of story-telling which so many ship-masters imagine that they possess, to the chagrin and distraction of their friends. I expect many more agreeable half-hours with this interesting fellow, for he instils much individuality into his tales. Nor will I ever forget him as he leaned against the pin-rail in the dusk this evening, his clean checked jumper lying open across his brown chest, as round as a barrel, and his head shaded by a wide-brimmed felt hat. He is an ideal bosun. Being now in one of the great ocean cross-roads, we are constantly sighting vessels, both steamers and wind-jammers, bound north and south, the steamers being those on the voyage to and from the river Plate and Brazil to the United States and Europe. Yesterday we sighted five vessels, but none near enough to speak. Latitude, 3° 40′ north; longitude, 27° 50′ west. +June 4+