fast on deck, with some one to tend it, he is lowered down gradually, and tars the stay carefully as he goes.  There he ``swings aloft ’twixt heaven and earth,’’ and if the rope slips, breaks, or is let go, or if the bowline slips, he falls overboard or breaks his neck.  This, however, is a thing which never enters into a sailor’s calculation.  He only thinks of leaving no holidays (places not tarred),—­ for, in case he should, he would have to go over the whole again,—­ or of dropping no tar upon deck, for then there would be a soft word in his ear from the mate.  In this manner I tarred down all the head-stays, but found the rigging about the jib-booms, martingale, and spritsail yard, upon which I was afterwards put, the hardest.  Here you have to ``hang on with your eyelids’’ and tar with your hands.

This dirty work could not last forever; and on Saturday night we finished it, scraped all the spots from the deck and rails, and, what was of more importance to us, cleaned ourselves thoroughly, rolled up our tarry frocks and trousers and laid them away for the next occasion, and put on our clean duck clothes, and had a good comfortable sailor’s Saturday night.  The next day was pleasant, and indeed we had but one unpleasant Sunday during the whole voyage, and that was off Cape Horn, where we could expect nothing better.  On Monday we began painting, and getting the vessel ready for port.  This work, too, is done by the crew, and every sailor who has been long voyages is a little of a painter, in addition to his other accomplishments.  We painted her, both inside and out, from the truck to the water’s edge.  The outside is painted by lowering stages over the side by ropes, and on those we sat, with our brushes and paint-pots by us, and our feet half the time in the water.  This must be done, of course, on a smooth day, when the vessel does not roll- much.  I remember very well being over the side painting in this way, one fine afternoon, our vessel going quietly along at the rate of four or five knots, and a pilot-fish, the sure precursor of a shark, swimming alongside of us.  The captain was leaning over the rail watching him, and we went quietly on with our work.  In the midst of our painting, on—­

Friday, December 19th, we crossed the equator for the second time.  I had the sense of incongruity which all have when, for the first time, they find themselves living under an entire change of seasons; as, crossing the line under a burning sun in the midst of December.

Thursday, December 25th.  This day was Christmas, but it brought us no holiday.  The only change was that we had a ``plum duff’’ for dinner, and the crew quarrelled with the steward because he did not give us our usual allowance of molasses to eat with it.  He thought the plums would be a substitute for the molasses, but we were not to be cheated out of our rights in that way.