“There now’s the old Mogul,” soliloquized Stubb by the try-works, “he’s been twigging it; and there goes Starbuck from the same, and both with faces which I should say might be somewhere within nine fathoms long.  And all from looking at a piece of gold, which did I have it now on Negro Hill or in Corlaer’s Hook, I’d not look at it very long ere spending it.  Humph! in my poor, insignificant opinion, I regard this as queer.  I have seen doubloons before now in my voyagings; your doubloons of old Spain, your doubloons of Peru, your doubloons of Chili, your doubloons of Bolivia, your doubloons of Popayan; with plenty of gold moidores and pistoles, and joes, and half joes, and quarter joes.  What then should there be in this doubloon of the Equator that is so killing wonderful?  By Golconda! let me read it once.  Halloa! here’s signs and wonders truly!  That, now, is what old Bowditch in his Epitome calls the zodiac, and what my almanack below calls ditto.  I’ll get the almanack; and as I have heard devils can be raised with Daboll’s arithmetic, I’ll try my hand at raising a meaning out of these queer curvicues here with the Massachusetts calendar.  Here’s the book.  Let’s see now.  Signs and wonders; and the sun, he’s always among ’em.  Hem, hem, hem; here they are—­ here they go—­all alive:  Aries, or the Ram; Taurus, or the Bull and Jimimi! here’s Gemini himself, or the Twins.  Well; the sun he wheels among ’em.  Aye, here on the coin he’s just crossing the threshold between two of twelve sitting-rooms all in a ring.  Book! you lie there; the fact is, you books must know your places.  You’ll do to give us the bare words and facts, but we come in to supply the thoughts.  That’s my small experience, so far as the Massachusetts calendar, and Bowditch’s navigator, and Daboll’s arithmetic go.  Signs and wonders, eh?  Pity if there is nothing wonderful in signs, and significant in wonders!  There’s a clue somewhere; wait a bit; hist—­hark!  By Jove, I have it!  Look you, Doubloon, your zodiac here is the life of man in one round chapter; and now I’ll read it off, straight out of the book.  Come, Almanack!  To begin:  there’s Aries, or the Ram—­ lecherous dog, he begets us; then, Taurus, or the Bull—­ he bumps us the first thing; then Gemini, or the Twins—­ that is, Virtue and Vice; we try to reach Virtue, when lo! comes Cancer the Crab, and drags us back; and here, going from Virtue, Leo, a roaring Lion, lies in the path—­ he gives a few fierce bites and surly dabs with his paw; we escape, and hail Virgo, the Virgin! that’s our first love; we marry and think to be happy for aye, when pop comes Libra, or the Scales—­happiness weighed and found wanting; and while we are very sad about that, Lord! how we suddenly jump, as Scorpio, or the Scorpion, stings us in the rear; we are curing the wound, when whang comes the arrows all round; Sagittarius, or the Archer, is amusing himself.  As we pluck out the shafts, stand aside! here’s the battering-ram,