SIX MONTHS AT CAPE TOWN. 73 



" Darkness shows us worlds of light 

 We never saw by day." 



The officials have all been most kind, as well as the governor, 

 with whom I sat half an hour yesterday. He is a nice old 

 gentleman, friendly and kind, without any state about him, and 

 possessing all the best qualities of excellency, without either 

 stiffness or pride. This brings me to the first levee I attended, 

 but of this I shall not at present speak. 



And now for Miss Flora. I regret to say that, being down 

 at a place called Muyrenberg, on False Bay, I imprudently 

 exposed myself to the joint effects of sunshine and salt water, 

 which brought on an attack of erysipelas on both legs and 

 arms, that has given me no small pain, and what is worse, has 

 confined me to the house. This is very sad, for I am burning 

 with impatience to make some excursions, and the weather is de- 

 lightful. But I am not quite idle ; for as I cannot go out, I amuse 

 myself with making anatomical dissections of seaweeds, with 

 a view to a future " Introduction, Physiological and Systematic, 

 to the study of Algae." Is not that fine ? I think such a book 

 is wanted. I have got a ready way of solving difficulties of 

 structure, which is, to boil the subject. This melts the gelatine, 

 leaving the fibres of which the plant is composed. The investi- 

 gation of this anatomy is very pleasant, because I am constantly 

 led to wonder and admire the exceeding simplicity of the 

 structure from which Nature, or rather say, the Author of 

 Nature, has produced such an amazing variety. There is one 

 primary organ for all Algae, from the red snow, scarcely visible 

 to the naked eye, to the Laminaria buccinalis, thirty feet 

 long. And what is this primary organ, of which all the plant 

 is composed, stem, leaves, and fruit ? A little transparent 

 bladder, filled with a coloured fluid more or less granular. 

 All Algae are made up of such, and merely differ in the arrange- 

 ment. How wonderful ! My collection of dried plants amounts 

 to 800 species, and I fear I shall gather very few more, as the 

 season is nearly past, except as regards the mountain. I have 

 very few bulbs, but mean to beg some for Plassey from my 

 friend Baron Ludwig, who never says no to anything I have 

 the impudence to ask for. In fact, he is a man of Hookerian 

 liberality, and I need say no more than that I pluck whatever 

 I please in his garden. He lately gave Lord Auckland, who 



