80 MEMOIR OF DR. HARVEY. 



when 800, miles from home, remains to be' seen. Knowing my 

 own weakness, I dare not speak more confidently, for I have 

 seen too much in the past year to venture on saying what I 

 may or may not do. I cannot look forward to a residence at 

 the Cape for a long term of years with pleasure, but am resigned 

 to a limited number ; and then, should Providence spare my life, 

 I hope to return before all my feelings are dead or cold. In ten 

 years I shall be thirty-five. I have always had a habit of looking 

 at people of all ages older than myself, and imagining myself in 

 their place ; and even when I see a young person I have tried to 

 recall my feelings at his age. I suppose others have similar 

 habits. 'Tis easy to talk of ten years in anticipation — but look at 

 the last five. Are there not incidents enough to desolate any 

 circle of happiness which one may picture to oneself? But I 

 shall not take trouble at interest by looking beyond my present 

 horizon. Were I a mental Teneriffe I might indulge ; but let 

 me remember how difficult it is to climb, and how comfortless 

 when reached. 



Treasury, Cape Town. October 27, 1836. 

 As I was coming up to my office this morning, I spied 

 lolling under a wall, beside his basket of fruits, an ugly old 

 Hottentot fanning himself with a plume of ostrich feathers — a 

 fit subject, truly, to commence my letter with. I must begin 

 with something, and I may as well take a text that points to 

 my African residence, though to me things here have nearly lost 

 their novelty. Hitherto I have been passingly humdrum. I 

 have amused myself looking over some of my plants, which I 

 had not seen for two years, and they bear the faces of old 

 friends. Some of them feel strange to me, some of them I had 

 forgotten, and others are seen once more with the feelings I last 

 parted from them. So it will probably be with old friends in 

 the flesh when I return amongst them. I shall have to renew 

 my acquaintance with some, while others will be familiar at 

 the first glance after the termination of my absence. 



I just remember that this is the end of October, and you are 

 probably enjoying fires, while I am coveting coolness by the aid 

 of open windows and a white jacket. We have lovely weather, 

 and doubtless the flats are covered with beautiful flowers, but 

 they blossom not for me. I see nothing but dusty streets and 



