We fetched a compass, or whatever the nautical phrase is, round the Canaries in a sea-fog, for fear of running up against Teneriffe, and since then we haven't sighted land, nor seen a ship, or even a whale or waterspout, nothing more exciting than a few coveys of flying-fish, and, I think, half-a-dozen porpoises. At the moment of writing, however, I see a solitary albatross, and lose no time in informing your readers of the fact. We crossed the line without feeling the slightest bump. We have passed through the tropics with only one hot night, and our feet, like our thoughts, are now turning towards Fleet Street and home, as we near the Antipodes. We have had the usual fancy-dress ball with some decidedly impromptu costumes. One of a large theatrical company was quite unrecognisable as Sheffield's Ape, taking the first prize, and has since been busy restoring himself to human form. The captain's clerk appeared in a series of quick-turn changes, such as a comic sailor or a deplorable old lady; while the ship's doctor contributed an awe-inspiring impersonation of Old Moore or somebody in the wizard profession. The sports and other entertainments have passed off without bloodshed. Our captain, a breezy, jovial Irishman, received the ladies with open arms at the finish of their fifty yards race, and the comedians who performed in "Are you there?" and the other humorous items fully rose, or tumbled, to the occasion, as the case might be. Take it all round, we have had a particularly good time of it. Pleasant company and pleasant weather. Out of reach of letters and telegrams, and face to face with the ocean. We are now in the teeth of a strong south-easter, and the writing-room is beginning to dance, I therefore hasten to catch the post. Yours, very much at sea, X. Y. Z. * * * * * [Illustration: ASSURING! _Passenger_ (_faintly_). "C'lect fares--'fore we get across! I thought we----" _Mate._ "'Beg y'r pardon, sir, but our orders is, in bad weather, to be partic'lar careful to collect fares; 'cause in a gale like this 'ere, there's no knowing how soon we may all go to the bottom!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ILLUSTRATED QUOTATIONS (_One so seldom finds an artist who realises the poetic conception_) "We have fed our sea for a thousand years."--_Kipling._] * * * * * [Illustration: A PRIMEVAL YACHT RACE Somehow or other, in those days, a breeze was more often forthcoming when it was wanted, and the race did "occasionally" end in favour of the challenger.] * * * * * ON VIEW AT HENLEY The most characteristic work of that important official, the clerk of the weather. The young lady who has never been before, and wants to know the names of the eights who compete for the Diamond Sculls.