While we were crossing the 180th meridian it was Sunday in the stern of the ship where my family were, and Tuesday in the bow where I was.

They were there eating the half of a fresh apple on the 8th, and I was at the same time eating the other half of it on the 10th--and I could notice how stale it was, already.

The family were the same age that they were when I had left them five minutes before, but I was a day older now than I was then.

The day they were living in stretched behind them half way round the globe, across the Pacific Ocean and America and Europe; the day I was living in stretched in front of me around the other half to meet it.

They were stupendous days for bulk and stretch; apparently much larger days than we had ever been in before.
All previous days had been but shrunk-up little things by comparison.
The difference in temperature between the two days was very marked, their day being hotter than mine because it was closer to the equator.
Along about the moment that we were crossing the Great Meridian a child was born in the steerage, and now there is no way to tell which day it was born on.