Throughout the night there were few who had the least expectation of the cable holding on till morning, and many lay awake listening for the sound that all most dreaded to hear, viz., the gun which should announce the failure of all our hopes. But still the cable--which in comparison with the ship from which it was paid out, and the gigantic waves among which it was delivered, was but a mere thread--continued to hold on, only leaving a silvery phosphorescent line upon the stupendous seas as they rolled on toward the ship. With Sunday morning came no improvement in the weather, still the sky remained black and stormy to windward, and the constant violent squalls of wind and rain which prevailed during the whole day served to keep up, if not to augment, the height of the waves. But the cable had gone through so much during the night that our confidence in its continuing to hold was much restored. At noon observation showed us to be in lat. 52° 26´ N., and long. 23° 16´ W., having made good 130 miles from noon of the previous day, and about 350 from our starting-point in mid-ocean. We had passed by the deepest soundings of 2,400 fathoms, and over more than half of the deep water generally, while the amount of cable still remaining in the ship was more than sufficient to carry us to the Irish coast, even supposing the continuance of the bad weather, should oblige us to pay out nearly the same amount of slack cable as hitherto. Thus far things looked promising for our ultimate success. But former experience showed us only too plainly that we could never suppose that some accident might not arise until the ends had been fairly landed on the opposite shores.