he absence of cream in
his coffee.

During the first part of our voyage we had most beautiful weather; the
deep blue sea upon which the foam-crested waves chased each other as
if at play, and the bright heavens where thin and transparent clouds
were floating like veils of gossamer, filled the heart with gladness
and disposed it to profitable musings. Light winds filled the sails
that swelled beautifully on their masts and drove the ship, that under
a cloud of white canvass looked like a stately queen, onward.
Sometimes she would lie motionless on the waves for a time, then urged
by the breeze she would glide forth like a capricious beauty, cutting
the water at the rate of more than four miles an hour. So gentle was
the motion, that in the cabin one could scarce hear the murmur of the
waves as the ship kissed them with her bowsprit, or raised a track of
foam as she divided them with her sharp keel or directing rudder.

It may seem strange, but it is nevertheless true, that on the land,
the Sabbath never speaks to man with such solemn voice as it does in
beautiful weather on the deep blue sea. Then it seems as if wind and
wave and sun and sky were all holding sacred festival, and Nature,
such as she appears on that wide and wonderful expanse, invited man,
the favored creature, to worship with her in her grand and sacred
temple. On week days, with the perpetual industry usual on board a
ship, the bustling of the sailors as they pursue their several
avocations, the call of the boatswain, the noise of the carpenters'
hammer that cannot be excluded from the cabin, contrasts vividly with
the calm brought by the solemn stillness of the Sabbath,--its
influence is visible on all. No tar-bucket is seen on deck, no
paint-pot stands in the way, the sailor intermits his weekly task of
mending the sails, and the ropes that are to be repaired are laid
aside. The deck is scoured white and smooth with sand; everything is
clean, even the cabin-boy and the table-cloth, two articles that on
weekdays seem to hold themselves privileged to be dirty.

The sailors indeed, that is only some of them, take advantage of the
time bestowed by the Sabbath, to mend their jackets and stockings, or
patch up old boots and shoes; others lie stretched out on the deck
with a book in their hands or a cigar in their mouths, murmuring
something to which the waves are the only listeners; others are down
in the forecastle looking over their chests and coffers,