MARK TWAIN

quence. We shall try, however, to straighten
them.

Jan. 6, *$6. In the Indian Ocean

Some ungoverned children on board. The irritating
thing about ungoverned children is that they often make
as orderly and valuable men and women as do the other
kind.

What an eventless existence life at sea on a long sum-
mer voyage is. No life visible; now and then a school of
porpoises; and at intervals a solitary albatross; once a
week a ship, far away. Peace, everlasting peace, and tran-
quillity. But it is infinitely comfortable and satisfying.
Before we see land again it is possible that we and the
English and Australians on board will have been war
enemies for sometime without knowing it. However, a
ship is a world of its own—one does not trouble himself
about other worlds and their affairs.

There are canaries in this ship, also cats—but the cats
get no proper chance.

Jan. 8 Wednesday. At noon yesterday we crossed the
100 meridian of East Longitude. The sun was directly
overhead.

The more I see of modern marine architecture and
engineering the more I am dissatisfied with Noah's Ark.
It was admirably unfitted for the service required of it.
Nobody but a farmer could have designed such a thing,
for such a purpose.

This is the best library I have seen in a ship yet. I must
read that devilish Vicar of Wakefield again. Also Jane
Austen.

On this voyage I have read a number of novels. Prince
Otto—full of brilliancies of course—plenty of exquisite
phrasing—an easy flowing tale, but—well, my sympathies
were not with any of the people in it, I did not care

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