Welby saw, or had in the mind's-eye, a day like many that we
experienced in the soft, clear "trades" on this voyage, when writing the
pretty lines:--
The twilight hours like birds flew by,
As lightly and as free,
Ten thousand stars were in the sky,
Ten thousand on the sea.
For every rippling, dancing wave,
That leaped upon the air,
Had caught a star in its embrace,
And held it trembling there.
"The days pass, and our ship flies fast upon her way."
For several days while sailing near the line we saw the constellations
of both hemispheres, but heading north, we left those of the south at
last, with the Southern Cross--most beautiful in all the heavens--to
watch over a friend.
Leaving these familiar southern stars and sailing toward constellations
in the north, we hoist all sail to the cheery breeze which carries us
on.
In this pleasant state of sailing with our friends all about us, we
stood on and on, never doubting once our pilot or our ship.
A phantom of the stately _Aquidneck_ appeared one night, sweeping by
with crowning skysails set, that fairly brushed the stars.
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