relentless day. We read the "Idylls of the King" and talked of
misty meres and reedy fens, of the cool north, with its purple
hills, leaping streams, and life-giving breezes, of long northern
winters, and ice and snow, but the realities of sultriness and damp
scared away our coolest imaginations. In this dismal region, when
about forty miles east of Tutuila, a beast popularly known as the
"Flying fox" {14} alighted on our rigging, and was eventually
captured as a prize for the zoological collection at San Francisco.
He is a most interesting animal, something like an exaggerated bat.
His wings are formed of a jet black membrane, and have a highly
polished claw at the extremity of each, and his feet consist of five
beautifully polished long black claws, with which he hangs on head
downwards. His body is about twice the size of that of a very large
rat, black and furry underneath, and with red foxy fur on his head
and back. His face is pointed, with a very black nose and prominent
black eyes, with a savage, remorseless expression. His wings, when
extended, measure forty-eight inches across, and his flying powers
are prodigious. He snapped like a dog at first, but is now quite
tame, and devours quantities of dried figs, the only diet he will
eat.

We crossed the Equator in Long. 159 degrees 44', but in consequence
of the misty weather it was not till we reached Lat. 10 degrees 6'
N. that the Pole star, cold and pure, glistened far above the
horizon, and two hours later we saw the coruscating Pleiades, and
the starry belt of Orion, the blessed familiar constellations of
"auld lang syne," and a "breath of the cool north," the first I have
felt for five months, fanned the tropic night and the calm silvery
Pacific. From that time we have been indifferent to our crawling
pace, except for the sick man's sake. The days dawn in rose colour