SECOND RESIDENCE AT CAPE TOWN. 81 



white houses glaring under a burning sun, save when I take a 

 morning walk to Ludwigsburg, to breathe a little botanical 

 atmosphere. If I am to resume my acquaintance with the 

 Flora, I fear it must be through a kind collector — I shall not 

 myself be able to spare sufficient time for field labours. If I 

 can work sufficiently in the cabinet, it must satisfy me. Did I 

 then do wisely in giving away all my former collectings ? 



On Saturday I stole a holiday, which was pleasantly spent 

 in a Avalk round the kloof which divides the Table from the 

 Lion Mountain, but not all performed on foot, for Sir J. W.'s 

 waggon met us at the opposite side of the mountain, and 

 brought us home. My companion was Mr. W., who is going as 

 chief-justice to St. Helena, and whose object was to pick insects, 

 in which I assisted him. We did not get many, but we killed a 

 snake (awful !), which I brought home in my pocket. See what 

 dangers surround me ! At the opposite side of the kloof is 

 Campo Bay, and a rocky shore extending to Green Point. Here 

 we rambled pleasantly, picking shells. On our return we had 

 a specimen of a south-easter, which terrified Mrs. W., and 

 for a moment there was a danger of the waggon being blown 

 over. How pleasant to have to deal with such customers. To- 

 morrow will be the first meeting of the legislative council since 

 my arrival, and I am to be sworn in. 



My letter-writing pleasure has not yet visited me, and I write 

 more as a duty than anything else. Now Wordsworth calls 

 duty "stern daughter of the voice of God." I have not yet 

 opened my botaniral books, going on my third week on 

 shore. Oh, recreant knight ! Hooker is the only botanist to 

 whom I have written, and that letter I consider "a duty." The 

 ghost of Ward cries loudly upon me, but he must be deferred 

 for the next ship. I have just been reading Sir J. Mackintosh's 

 life — parts very interesting — parts dry enough. I have small 

 taste for metaphysics, and can therefore scarcely appreciate 

 such a character. 



-■ Protea, December 18, 1836. 



This is a boarding-house, where we have a large party of 

 ladies and gentlemen, among which I am a cipher ; but what 

 are they to me? The place is pretty enough, and was the 



G 



