have recorded. It was seen by
nearly all the passengers, too, most of whom were looking toward the
horizon for the rising of the orb, and expressions of delight were
heard from every quarter, for such a sight, we say, is rare.

When observed by the passengers on board the _Polynesia_, the moon had
barely cleared the horizon, as we have stated, and the top of the
mainmast just reached the uppermost portion of the periphery, while
spars, rigging and hull were marked against the yellow disk as
distinctly as if painted in India ink.

Such an obscuration, like a total one of the sun, could last but a few
seconds, for the _Polynesia_ and the other ship were moving in
opposite directions, while the moon itself was creeping upward toward
the zenith. Slowly the black ship glided toward its destination--hull,
masts and rigging gradually mingled with the gloom beyond, until the
moon, as if shaking off the eclipse, mounted upward with its face
unmarred, excepting by the peculiar figures stamped there when it was
first launched into space.

When the wonderful exhibition was over there were murmurs of
admiration from the passengers, who, grouped here and there, or
promenading back and forth, had stood spellbound, as may be said,
while it was in progress.

Captain Strathmore and two of his officers had seen the same thing
once or twice before, but they had been favored in this respect above
others, and could hardly expect anything of the kind again.

The captain now prepared for an interesting and novel ceremony, which
he had announced would take place that evening by moonlight.

Descending to the deck, and approaching the stern, where the expectant
passengers had gathered together, the group were silent a minute,
while he stood among them holding little Inez by the hand. A few
minutes later the purser came aft, carrying a parcel in his hand,
which he carefully placed upon the taffrail. Then he spoke in a
sepulchral voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we all have lost minutes and hours, but it is
seldom that we deliberately throw away a day. But we are to do so now.
We are about to bury a day. To-day is the Twentieth, to-morrow will be
the Twenty-second, and where, then, is the Twenty-first? There it
lies" (pointing to the parcel on the taffrail). "Life is short enough,
without deliberately casting an entire day into the sea; but there is
the consolation of knowing, on your return, that it shall be restored
to you, and thus beauti