“Well, it may have been the barometer, for I know he had them both,” resumed the aunt. “Barometer, or thermometer, it do n't make any great difference; or quadrant, or sextant. They are all instruments, and sometimes he used one, and sometimes another. Sailors take on board the sun, too, and have an instrument for that, as well as one to weigh the weather with. Sometimes they take on board the stars, and the moon, and 'fill their ships with the heavenly bodies,' as I've heard my dear husband say, again and again! But the most curious thing at sea, as all sailors tell me, is crossing the line, and I do hope we shall cross the line, Rosy, that you and I may see it.” “What is the line, aunty, and how do vessels cross it.” “The line, my dear, is a place in the ocean where the earth is divided into two parts, one part being called the North Pole, and the other part the South Pole. Neptune lives near this line, and he allows no vessel to go out of one pole into the other, without paying it a visit. Never! never!--he would as soon think of living on dry land as think of letting even a canoe pass, without visiting it.” “Do you suppose there is such a being, really, as Neptune, aunty?” “To be sure I do; he is king of the sea. Why should n't there be? The sea must have a king, as well as the land.” “The sea may be a republic, aunty, like this country; then, no king is necessary. I have always supposed Neptune to be an imaginary being.” “Oh that's impossible--the sea is no republic; there are but two republics, America and Texas. I've heard that the sea is a highway, it is true--the 'highway of nations,' I believe it is called, and that must mean something particular. But my poor Mr. Budd always told me that Neptune was king of the seas, and he was always so accurate, you might depend on everything he said. Why, he called his last Newfoundland dog Neptune; and do you think, Rosy, that your dear uncle would call his dog after an imaginary being?--and he a man to beat the wind, and attack ship, and take the sun, moon and stars aboard! No, no, child; fanciful folk may see imaginary beings, but solid folk see solid beings.” Even Spike was dumfounded at this, and there is no knowing what he might have said, had not an old sea-dog, who had just come out of the fore-topmast cross-trees, come aft, and, hitching up his trowsers with one hand while he touched his hat with the other, said with immoveable gravity, “The revenue-steamer has brought up just under the fort, Capt. Spike.” “How do you know that, Bill?” demanded the captain, with a rapidity that showed how completely Mrs. Budd and all her absurdities were momentarily forgotten.