case in these latitudes, lighted up sky and sea with an indescribable
beauty, which attained its greatest magnificence about five minutes
after the sun had disappeared, reminding one of the glorious sunsets
of the African deserts, so often described by travellers.

_Friday, November 3rd_.--Still a blue sky, bright sunshine, smooth
sea, and light head-wind. The crew have all turned tailors, and are
making themselves new suits from some dungaree we bought at
Valparaiso, the clothes we expected for them not having met us there.

[Illustration: Juvenile Scrubbers.]

_Saturday, November 4th_.--As fine as ever. This is certainly sailing
luxuriously, if not swiftly. We have now settled down into our regular
sea-ways, and have plenty to do on board; so the delay does not much
signify. Still, our time is limited, and we all hope to fall in with
the trades shortly to carry us to Tahiti or some of the South Sea
islands. We caught half-a-dozen of the little petrels, for stuffing,
by floating lines of black cotton astern, in which they became
entangled.

To-night's sunset was more superb than ever. Each moment produced a
new and ever increasingly grand effect. I mean to try and take an
instantaneous photograph of one. It would not, of course, reproduce
all the marvellous shades of colouring, but it would perhaps give some
idea of the forms of the masses of cloud, which are finer than any I
ever saw before. This ocean seems to give one, in a strange way, a
sense of solemn vastness, which was not produced to the same extent by
the Atlantic. Whether this results from our knowledge of its size, or
whether it is only fancy, I cannot say, but it is an impression which