t was impossible to feel that these had faded, so
triumphant was their close. Rather, one felt that they had been elected
to a more glorious office,--had gone, perhaps, to light some hall of
Thetis, or some divine, spotless revel of sea-nymphs.

I had gone below, when, at about ten o'clock, there was a hail from the
deck.

"Come up and see a crack in the water!"

"A what?"

"A crack in the water!"

"Not joking?"

"No, indeed; come and see."

Up quickly! this is the day of wonders! It was a line of brilliant
phosphorescence, exceedingly brilliant, about two inches wide, perfectly
sharp at the edges, which extended along the side of the ship, and ahead
and astern out of sight. "Crack in the water" is the seaman's name for
it. I have been a full year on the water, but never saw it save this
once, and had never heard of it before.

At half past eleven, the Parson and I went on deck, and read ordinary
print as rapidly as by daylight. It took some ten seconds to get
accustomed to the light, being fresh from the glare of the kerosene
lamp; but afterwards we read aloud to each other with entire ease and
fluency.

At a quarter past two, Captain Handy, a man made of fine material, with
an eye for the beautiful as well as for right-whales, broke my sleep
with a gentle touch, and whispered, "Come on deck, and see what a
morning it is." What a morning, indeed! Thanks, old comrade! Call me
next time, when there is such to see; and if I am too weak to get out of
my berth, take me up in those strong arms, across that broad,
billow-like chest of yours, and bear me to the deck!

It was dead calm,--no, _live_ calm, rather; for never was calm so vivid.
The swell had fallen; but the sea breathes and lives even in its sleep.
Dawn was already blushing, "celestial rosy red, love's proper hue," in
the--_east_, I was about to say, but _north_ would be truer. The centre
of its roseate arch was not more than a point (by compass) east of
north. The lofty shore rose clear, dark, and sharp against the morning
red; the sea was white,--white as purity, and still as peace; the moon
hung opposite, clothed and half hidden in a glorified mist; a schooner
lay moveless, dark-sailed, transformed into a symbol of solitude and
silence, beneath. I thought of the world's myriad sleepers, and would
fain have played Captain Handy to them all. But Nature is infinitely
rich, and can afford to draw costly curtains about the slumber of her
darling. For, w