impossible to dance on account of the rolling of the ship, and after a few attempts were made the would-be merrymakers were forced to satis- fy themselves by hanging on to the rail and listening to the music. At half past eleven all hands joined around and sang auld lang syne. As this voyage drags to its end I can say without being at all alone in my feelings that it has been the most insufferable bore, the most dismal epidemic of melancholia that I ever want to see on the face of the earth. The people who are not sick and below are up but so doubtful as to how long they are going to remain up that no one would dream of commencing a conversation. But it is not, on the whole, the seasickness as is it the general layout of the ship, the chronic gloom, the smells that float about it and the complete lack of any place to sit, smoke, read or work. Wednesday, September 7. (At sea). The aftermaths of the party have not yet worn off. The ship's log 239 miles today and we are due in at Tulagi at midnight. By wireless communication we have found out that Beck is not there yet, which puts a crimp in the affairs. He is probably around Guadalcanal or in one of the islands of the nearby group. Here's hoping. By the way the passengers are interesting themselves in the fact that we shall sight land this afternoon I can very well imagine the feelings of the animals in Noah's Ark. Thursday, September 8. (Tulagu). I had written up my diary for yesterday before we entered the harbor of Tulagi. I am sorry for this for it was a distincly impressive event. We had rounded the northern cape of Guadalcanal and picked up the lights of Tulagi when for the first time the background of the land behind the coast became uncovered of the mists that encircled it and it was possible to gain some idea of what the islands really were.