Have composed my own music to this—­call it my musical cup-yright.  Shan’t publish it, for fear of pirates.  No other rates at sea, except pi-rates, and the rate we’re now going at—­i.e., two knots an hour, and ties pay the dealer.  Hoorah!  I enclose portrait of self after the above symposium, carried round the town to the air of “Please to Remember,” &c.  Too Novembery perhaps, but everything too previous here, and it’s summer even in winter, and winter’s nowhere, except in some other places.  This is the meteorological or illogical rule, the “Summa Lex.”  Look at my bearers!  These are heads of the people, eh?  Carried round town in triumph, and then back to the ship, which I now look upon as my native place, or the land of my berth!

“ONCE MORE ABOARD THE LUGGER!”

[Illustration]

Here we are, off the Cape of Good Hope.  HOPE, as you know, was a worthy Admiral who discovered this place; he is mentioned by the poet as having done so; you remember—­

  “Hope told a flattering tale;”

but no one believed him.  Wish BALFOUR, GORSTY, and WOLFFY were here, and WOLFFY better than when I left him.  First-rate place to pick up health.  Every morning I climb the maintop-gallant, plunge into the ocean, and out again in the blowing of a Bo’sen’s whistle.  I dive, grapple with fresh lobster, bring him up by the tail, and before he knows where he is, he is boiled and on my table, hot, for breakfast.  Excellent lobster!  But how he changes colour at being caught and boiled!  Such a breakfast!

QUITE A TROPICAL SONG!

Something spicy at last.  Rather!  The “Umbrella-tree” magnificent!  Spreads out in wet weather, and folds up when it’s fine.  Splendid specimen of the “Boot-tree” (Arbor tegumenpedis), and the quaint “Blacking-Brush Plant,” which is its invariable companion.  No time to spare, however—­off again to the Grantully Castle, with pockets full of fruits of all kinds.  Must take care not to sit on them in boat.  Lemon squash all very well, but a mixed fruit squash in your tail-coat pocket not so refreshing.

CAPERING.

There are 50,000 souls and as many bodies in Cape Town.  Give you my word, it’s a fact.  I may have omitted one or two, but saw most of ’em through telescope before landing.  There’s an old Town House and a Castle, and an Excellency for Governor; Museum, Library, with Manuscripts badly illuminated before the discovery of gas; and as good a glass of Port (called here “Port Elizabeth,” after Miss ELIZABETH MARTIN, who first took to it, but didn’t finish it, thank goodness!) as you’d wish to get away from the Turf Club.  The little boys toss for halfpence in the street, which impressed me with the wonderful mineral wealth of South Africa.  Having nothing better to do, I joined them, and won.  I lectured them on incautious play, and they said something in South-African, which the street Arabs here speak