light in the water at night especially so.  The wake of the ship was luminous for a long distance, and the crests of the waves shone all around us.  Once I was leaning over the taffrail late in the evening, when a shoal of fish passed.  There were thousands of them, and each one was a living, moving centre of light.  Bottle-nosed whales gambolled around us when we were within a few hundred miles of Labrador, and later on “schools” of porpoises occasionally visited us.  The latter often sprang clean out of the water, and seemed to take special delight in crossing the bows of the “Harmony.”  On October 10th, we sighted the first ship since leaving Labrador, and a day or two later tacked southward near the coast of Ireland to make the entrance of the British Channel.  There a trial of patience awaited us.  A hard-hearted east wind barred our progress, and with long tacks we seemed to make headway only by inches.  Yet the little “Harmony” bravely held on her way, when larger vessels had given up the fight.

Sunday, October 21st.—­Up at six, to find the Scilly Isles in sight.  The Bishop’s rock and St. Agnes lighthouses were plainly visible.  But the old east wind is back again.  The light, fair breeze of yesterday evening sent us forward fifteen miles in an hour or two, and seventy or eighty miles of tacking to-day has barely secured as much progress.  Visited the men in the forecastle, a small gloomy looking place, yet fair as such accommodation goes.  The good fellows are cheery and happy there, indeed, they have been pleasant and faithful to duty throughout the entire voyage.  God grant them the true blessedness we have told them of in this morning’s and previous Sunday services.

Monday, 22nd.—­Weathered the Wolf Rock by this tack.  Sighted Land’s End, with its white houses, and the Longships lighthouse on its lofty rock.  A steamer passing us into Penzance answered our signals and will report us we hope.

Tuesday, 23rd.—­Four weeks away from Labrador.  Four months absent from home.  How much longer yet?  To windward of the Lizard this morning.  That is good, for we could have run for Falmouth harbour had it blown harder from the east.  But the wind has died away altogether.  The Lizard twin lighthouses and the white walls surrounding them are plainly visible, as we lie becalmed.

Wednesday, 24th.—­Got a fair wind yesterday, which carried us forward past the Eddystone Lighthouse.  We are now nearing Start Point, and have shown our signals.  They will be seen, and reported either at that lighthouse or at Prawle Point, and it is quite a relief to think our presence in the Channel will soon be known in London.  What a contrast there is between our own shores and the coast of Labrador. Here one is never out of sight of some guiding light, there not a lighthouse—­not a buoy.  Such a voyage makes one the more thankful for the experience and faithfulness of our own valued ship’s officers, tried servants of the Society for the Furtherance of the Gospel, who have the interests of that society and of the mission at heart, and whose annual voyages to Labrador involve a full share of responsibility and anxiety.