The most singular fact in relation to the component parts of sea-water is the variation in the proportion of salt; for every ton of Atlantic water evaporated there is yielded eighty-one pounds of salt; ditto Pacific, seventy-nine pounds; ditto Arctic, eighty-five; while the Dead Sea heads the list with one hundred and eighty-seven pounds, though I have never seen such statistics in regard to our Great Salt Lake. Although the temperature in the shade to-day was very agreeable, the sun’s heat was terrific. It is customary to refer to a “baking sun,” but I should call that of to-day a boiling sun, on account of the moisture; and it is strange that on a day like this the sun’s rays will not dry out a wet towel, though exposed to them for several hours during the hottest part of the day, so great is the humidity. Latitude, 0° 49′ south; longitude, 29° 53′ west. +June 8+ These are fine Trades, though the squalls are severe and sudden. A few words here, in passing, as to squalls. What landsmen often call a squall sailors call a puff, such as are experienced along our coasts with a northwest wind, lasting a few seconds. A sailor’s squall often lasts for thirty minutes and is accompanied with heavy rain, while it can be observed approaching in the form of a nimbus cloud touching the ocean a long while before it reaches the ship. In this twenty-four hours we did two hundred and thirteen knots, an average of more than nine within the hour, while in many of the squalls we must have been going nearly twelve. How many yachts are there which can equal this on a bowline? Ship-masters, however, cannot realize how fast a yacht can sail with a light wind; they all seem to think that a yacht sails best in a gale. Captain Kingdon often used to say to us in the Southern Ocean, when we were doing twelve knots before a fresh gale, “Ah! this is where I’d like to see an able yacht! Sixteen knots, eh?” And he couldn’t understand that under those conditions a smart yacht could sail but little, if any, faster than we were doing. But what is even more difficult for them to grasp is the speed of a racing yacht in what they call a light air. Sometimes when we were fanning along at, say, five knots, I used to worry Captain Kingdon by telling him that a seventy-footer would run him out of sight in that breeze in a few hours. He refused to believe that any yacht could make nearly ten knots while the “Mandalore” was doing perhaps five.