whom he is unable to converse. What a misfortune to mankind that the
Tower of Babel was ever commenced! The architect who planned it should
receive the execration of all posterity.

The apartment I occupied was of goodly size, and contained a large
writing desk. My bed was parallel to the keel, and hung so that it
could swing when the ship rolled. Previous to my embarkation the room
was the receptacle of a quantity of chronometers, sextants, charts,
and other nautical apparatus. There were seventeen chronometers in
one box, and a few others lay around loose. I never had as much time
at my command before or since. Twice a day an officer came to wind
these chronometers and note their variation. There were marine
instruments enough in that room to supply a dozen sea-captains, but if
the entire lot had been loan'd me, I never could have ascertained the
ship's position without asking somebody who knew it.

[Illustration: PLENTY OF TIME.]

The partition separating me from the ward-room was built after the
completion of the ship, and had a way of creaking like a thousand or
more squeaky boots in simultaneous action. Every time we rolled, each
board rubbed against its neighbor and waked the echoes of the cabin.
The first time I slept in the room the partition seemed talking in
Russian, and I distinctly remember that it named a majority of the
cities and many noble families throughout the empire. After the first
night it was powerless to disturb me. I thought it possible that on
leaving the ship I might be in the condition of the woman, whose
husband, a fearful snorer, was suddenly called from home. The lady
passed several sleepless nights, until she hit upon the expedient of
calling a servant with the coffee mill. The vigorous grinding of that