Sunday, July 24th, when we were in lat. 50 27’ S., lon. 62 13’ W., having made four degrees of latitude in the last twenty-four hours.  Being now to the northward of the Falkland Islands, the ship was kept off, northeast, for the equator; and with her head for the equator, and Cape Horn over her taffrail, she went gloriously on; every heave of the sea leaving the Cape astern, and every hour bringing us nearer to home and to warm weather.  Many a time, when blocked up in the ice, with everything dismal and discouraging about us, had we said, if we were only fairly round, and standing north on the other side, we should ask for no more; and now we had it all, with a clear sea and as much wind as a sailor could pray for.  If the best part of a voyage is the last part, surely we had all now that we could wish.  Every one was in the highest spirits, and the ship seemed as glad as any of us at getting out of her confinement.  At each change of the watch, those coming on deck asked those going below, ``How does she go along?’’ and got, for answer, the rate, and the customary addition, ``Aye! and the Boston girls have had hold of the tow-rope all the watch.’’ Every day the sun rose higher in the horizon, and the nights grew shorter; and at coming on deck each morning there was a sensible change in the temperature.  The ice, too, began to melt from off the rigging and spars, and, except a little which remained in the tops and round the hounds of the lower masts, was soon gone.  As we left the gale behind us, the reefs were shaken out of the topsails, and sail made as fast as she could bear it; and every time all hands were sent to the halyards a song was called for, and we hoisted away with a will.

Sail after sail was added, as we drew into fine weather; and in one week after leaving Cape Horn, the long top-gallant-masts were got up, top-gallant and royal yards crossed, and the ship restored to her fair proportions.

The Southern Cross and the Magellan Clouds settled lower and lower in the horizon; and so great was our change of latitude that each succeeding night we sank some constellation in the south, and raised another in the northern horizon.

Sunday, July 31st.  At noon we were in lat. 36 41’ S., lon. 38 08’ W.; having traversed the distance of two thousand miles, allowing for changes of course, in nine days.  A thousand miles in four days and a half!  This is equal to steam.

Soon after eight o’clock the appearance of the ship gave evidence that this was the first Sunday we had yet had in fine weather.  As the sun came up clear, with the promise of a fair, warm day, and, as usual on Sunday, there was no work going on, all hands turned-to upon clearing out the forecastle.  The wet and soiled clothes which had accumulated there during the past month were brought up on deck; the chests moved; brooms, buckets of water, swabs, scrubbing-brushes, and scrapers carried down and applied, until the forecastle floor was as white as chalk, and everything neat and