NUMBER IV.
| Steamship America, | 
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| November 21, 1870, | 
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| N.L. 30 deg. 30 min., L. 158 deg. 24 min. E | 
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The great disparity of surface on this globe between land and water is forced upon our minds by the thought that we have now for twenty-one days been pushing steadily westward over the vast desert of waters, and have seen neither land nor sail. Day after day is the same dreary expanse, and during the twenty-five days from San Francisco to Japan it is rarely that a vessel of any kind is seen. When about eight days out, and 1,800 miles from lard, we anxiously watched for the smoke of the eastern bound steamer, hoping to meet her and exchange mails. For two days we had all been writing letters full of last parting words to dear ones at home, but to our great disappointment we missed seeing her, having probably passed during the night, which was cloudy, so that the smoke or lights could not have been seen more than eight or ten miles away. It would seem surprising that we had any chance to meet on this trackless Pacific. Night and day there has been no cessation of the steady clang of the machinery, the quiver and crackling of the immense steamer, as she pushes westward ten miles an hour, never varying from her course, end regardless alike of wind or storm. We have seen old Ocean in all his moods—for days smooth and glassy, reflecting the bright sun and cloudless sky with scarcely a ripple, reminding me of Lake Erie in midsummer. Then gathering clouds and the angry waves lashed into fury, tossing our huge ship to and fro
