Monday, November 20th.—­The fore-and-aft sails were taken in, as they were doing no good and the square canvas was drawing.  This allowed the mizen-awning to be spread, making a pleasant place to sit in and a capital playground for the children, who scamper about all day long, and do not appear to feel the heat a bit.

Tuesday, November 21st.—­Certainly a very hot day.  We made steady progress under the same canvas as yesterday.

Wednesday, November 22nd.—­Between 2 and 3 a.m. a nice breeze sprang up, and between 3 and 4.30 a.m. all the fore-and-aft sails were again set.  It was deliciously cool on deck at that time; but the sun rose fierce and hot, and more or less killed the breeze as the day wore on.

Thursday, November 23rd.—­Twenty-four days out.  We had hoped to reach Tahiti to-day, and Tom begins to regret that he did not steam some distance out from Valparaiso, so as to pick up the trades sooner.  Still it is satisfactory to know how well the ‘Sunbeam’ can and does sail against light contrary winds, and to have an opportunity of developing some of her good points, of which we were previously hardly aware.  How she manages to slip along as she does, four or five knots an hour, with not sufficient wind to blow a candle out, is a marvel to every one on board.  More than once, when the hand-log has shown that we were going five knots, I have carried a naked light from one end of the deck to the other without its being extinguished.

The sunrise was magnificent, and a splendid albatross, the largest we have yet seen, was at the same time visible in mid-air, floating against the rose-coloured clouds.  He looked so grand, and calm, and majestic, that one could almost fancy him the bird of Jove himself, descending direct from the sun.  Where do these birds rest?  How far and how fast do they really fly? are questions for the naturalist.  We have seen them many times at a distance of at least two thousand miles from the nearest land.

About nine o’clock there was a slight breeze, but it fell as the sun rose, and the day was intensely hot.

Friday, November 24th.—­A fine breeze in the early morning, which, however, gradually died away.  Having now quitted the regular track of the trade winds and got into the variables, we lighted fires at two o’clock.  Then another light breeze sprang up for a few minutes, only to fall away again immediately, and at six o’clock we commenced to steam.

Saturday, November 25th.—­A very wet morning, the sky clearing at about ten, but the weather remaining dull, heavy, hot, and oppressive, throughout the day.  But we were making good progress under steam, which rendered the state of things more endurable than it would otherwise have been.

Whilst I was standing on deck at night a flying-fish flew against my throat and hung there, caught in the lace of my dress.  He is a pretty specimen, but only his wings are to be preserved, for Muriel will have his body for breakfast to-morrow.