“At sea, 300 miles from Zanzibar, 26_th January_, 1866.—­We have enjoyed fair weather in coming across the weary waste of waters.  We started on the 5th.  The ‘Thule,’ to be a pleasure yacht, is the most incorrigible roller ever known.  The whole 2000 miles has been an everlasting see-saw, shuggy-shoo, and enough to tire the patience of even a chemist, who is the most patient of all animals.  I am pretty well gifted in that respect myself, though I say it that shouldn’t say it, but that Sandy B——!  The world will never get on till we have a few of those instrument-makers hung.  I was particular in asking him to get me Scripture slides colored, and put in with the magic lantern, and he has not put in one!  The very object for which I wanted it is thus frustrated, and I did not open it till we were at sea.  O Sandy!  Pity Burk and Hare have no successors in Auld Reekie!...

     “You will hear that I have the prospect of Kirk being out
     here.  I am very glad of it, as I am sure his services will be
     found invaluable on the East Coast.”

To his daughter Agnes he writes, a propos of the rolling of the ship: 

“Most of the marine Sepoys were sick.  You would have been a victim unless you had tried the new remedy of a bag of pounded ice along the spine, which sounds as hopeful as the old cure for toothache:  take a mouthful of cold water, and sit on the fire till it boils, you will suffer no more from toothache....  A shark took a bite at the revolving vane of the patent log to-day.  He left some pieces of the enamel of his teeth in the brass, and probably has the toothache.  You will sympathize with him....  If you ask Mr. Murray to send, by Mr. Conyngham, Buckland’s Curiosities of Natural History, and Mr. Gladstone’s Address to the Edinburgh Students, it will save me writing to him.  When you return home you will be scrutinized to see if you are spoiled.  You have only to act naturally and kindly to all your old friends to disarm them of their prejudices.  I think you will find the Youngs true friends.  Mrs. Williamson, of Widdieombe Hill, near Bath, writes to me that she would like to show you her plans for the benefit of poor orphans.  If you thought of going to Bath it might be well to get all the insight you could into that and every other good work.  It is well to be able to take a comprehensive view of all benevolent enterprises, and resolve to do our duty in life in some way or other, for we cannot live for ourselves alone.  A life of selfishness is one of misery, and it is unlike that of our blessed Saviour, who pleased not Himself.  He followed not his own will even, but the will of his Father in heaven.  I have read with much pleasure a book called Rose Douglas.  It is the life of a minister’s daughter—­with fictitious names, but all true.  She was near Lanark, and came through Hamilton.  You had better read it if you come in contact with it.”

Referring to an alarm, arising from the next house having taken fire, of which she had written him, he adds playfully: