30 UNPUBLISHED LETTERS OP THE 



nothing strikes me with novelty. The first foreign country I saw, 

 which was Madeira, awaked all my attention — I detected in a 

 moment everything that differed from England. The houses, 

 carriages, dress of the people, modes of living — were all new to 

 me, and afforded me constant amusement. The hills of that 

 island, covered with orange trees and vines, were also both new 

 and delightful. 



The part of South America which we next visited, being a 

 settlement of the same people, had less to excite curiosity after 

 we had visited Madeira. Still the natural productions of a 

 tropical climate open new sources of wonder — every flower and 

 shrub and tree were so new, that I was at a loss which to look 

 at ; and, after all, my attention could hardly distinguish the 

 cotton shrub from the coffee plant, or pepper from kidney 

 beans. The richness of vegetation in these countries is too great 

 to be pleasing— it is overpowering. A burning sun and fat soil 

 bring forth immense trees and strong aromatic plants with 

 astonishing rapidity. The verdure is rich and infinitely diversified, 

 but the pleasure of sylvan scenery is gone. I feel always more 

 terrified than pleased. To walk in the sun is death : the woods 

 are impervious from the long stringy plants, that have woven 

 a net to the top of the trees. Sitting down in the shade 

 is an invitation to insects ; instantly they come, and tho' not in 

 general mischievous, they are frightful from being ten times the 

 size of their relations in England. The only way I could find 

 of being comfortable in St. Salvador was to sit in the house all 

 the day, and in the cool of the evening walk to and fro on an 

 open road. 



There seems to be something extremely gloomy in the life of 

 a settler in a province of America or India. From a want of 

 that mixed society, which produces circulation, the rich Portuguese 

 planters seemed to be very unhappy. Having no one near them 

 but slaves, whom they consider precisely as cattle, they sit in 

 the verandahs all the day : no sound to be heard but the 

 buzzing of insects, no friend to interrupt their long solitude. 



At the Cape of Good Hope we seemed to be once more in 

 England ; so nearly do the manners of the Dutch resemble ours. 

 Here in the room of sickly bananas and mangos we met with 

 honest apples and pears, tea and bread and butter for breakfast 



