“Few signs of life are visible outside the vessel. Occasionally a whale is reported in sight, but for many days most of the passengers are inclined to think it is only something very ‘like one,’ till, as the days pass, every person has caught a glimpse of a spout of water suddenly shooting up from the sea without any apparent reason, or of a black line cutting through the blue surface for a moment, and then disappearing to unknown depths. Occasionally, too, one or more sea‐birds are seen following in the vessel’s wake, sweeping gracefully across and again across the white band of foam, and with difficulty keeping down their natural pace to that of the steam‐driven monster. These birds are of two kinds only: the ‘Mother Carey’s Chicken,’ and another, called by the sailors the ‘Cape Hen’—a brown bird, rather larger and longer in the wing than a sea‐gull. Both birds are visible when we are in mid‐ocean, 1,000 miles at least from the nearest dry land.” The writer of these pages has seen whales, in the North Pacific, keep up with the vessel on which he was a passenger for half an hour or more together. On one occasion a large whale was swimming abreast of the steamer so closely that rifle and pistol shots were fired at it, some undoubtedly hitting their mark, yet the great mammal did not show the slightest symptoms of even temporary annoyance, and there is reason to believe was not much more hurt by the shots than would the targets at Wimbledon be affected by a shower of peas. Occasionally a little diversity and profit are got out of passengers by the sailors when they go for the first time on the fo’castle. The latter draw on the deck a chalk line quickly round the former, and each visitor so “chalked,” as it is called, must pay a fine in the shape of a bottle of rum. This secures one, however, the freedom of the ship ever after. [Illustration: A CRICKET‐MATCH ON BOARD SHIP.]