the latter is groaning under her burden from the time she leaves dock until the time she returns to it; providing there is breeze enough to keep her going. From this time until we reached the Cape of Good Hope, little of interest transpired. Occasionally we were called to look over the rail and see the fin-back whale sending his spout in a spiral column towards the clouds; or the blackfish, grampus, or porpoise, gambolling amongst the great waves. At times the scene was diversified by the appearance of the shark, dolphin, benita, and flying-fish, each preying on the other. The last three mentioned are easily caught, and are eagerly angled for by seamen. The manner of catching the dolphin and skip-jack is to bait the hook with a piece of white rag, and allow it to sway with the vessel’s motion. The fish thinks it a flying-fish taking its flight, rushes towards it and gulps it down. I had often heard stories of the dolphin’s extraordinary change of color when dying, but must confess myself so unromantic as to say, I think there is so little change in his colors that none but the most acute observer could detect it. His beauty is confined to the period when sporting in his native element; then his motions are full of grace and vigor; but caught and landed on deck, he is a flat fish with a round head, and great, goggle, staring eyes. His flesh, however, is indifferent eating, as is that of the benita. The latter, when caught, goes into spasms, shaking like a man with an ague fit, sometimes disjointing the vertebra in its throes. They are at times so violent, that if the fish is large a man cannot hold one. The flying-fish, the last that I mentioned, has been so often described, that I shall not attempt it. It is preyed upon both by larger fish and by the birds. I have seen the tropic birds and dolphin acting so nearly in concert, as almost to convince one that they understood each other’s mode of operation. The dolphin would chase the little creatures until they would take to their wings, when the tropic bird, or garnet (which is a beautiful white bird, about the size of our common pigeon, with red legs and bill, and a tail resembling a marling-spike, by which name they usually go amongst sailors), would pounce upon them; and, tired with their serial flight, they would again resort to the water, only to become a prey to their finny enemy.