are dressing the vessel to go once more into society. We were only 255
miles from the Kamchatkan seaport of Petropavlovsk (pet-ro-pav'-lovsk)
last night, and if this favourable breeze holds we expect to reach
there to-morrow noon. It has fallen almost to a dead calm, however,
this morning, so that we may be delayed until Saturday.

AT SEA, OFF THE COAST OF KAMCHATKA.
_Friday, August 18, 1865._

We have a fine breeze this morning; and the brig, under every stitch
of canvas that will draw, is staggering through the seas enveloped in
a dense fog, through which even her topgallant sails show mistily.
Should the wind continue and the fog be dissipated we may hope to see
land tonight.

11 A.M.

I have just come down from the topgallant yard, where for the last
three hours I have been clinging uncomfortably to the backstays,
watching for land, and swinging back and forth through the fog in the
arc of a great circle as the vessel rolled lazily to the seas. We
cannot discern any object at a distance of three ships' lengths,
although the sky is evidently cloudless. Great numbers of gulls,
boobies, puffin, fish-hawks, and solan-geese surround the ship, and
the water is full of drifting medusae.

NOON.

Half an hour ago the fog began to lift, and at 11.40 the captain, who
had been sweeping the horizon with a glass, shouted cheerily, "Land