SECOND RESIDENCE AT CAPE TOWN. 85 



mosses, as it has fully the effect of water, and you can place each 

 specimen in all its botanical characters, so that they can always 

 be referred to. 



I sent you a parcel about a week ago, which contains little of 

 moment except the stumps of Hemitelia, with the supposed 

 parasite, making it plain to all the world that this is none other 

 than a part of the plant itself. I gave Bowie some young plants 

 of Hemitelia to send home to Loddiges', and on these, if they 

 grow, this curious frond will form. I have seen a forest of them, 

 and every trunk well covered with these delicate branchlets. 



I rejoice in the account you give of the spread of your system 

 over the Southern Ocean, but I cannot promise you any report 

 from the Cape this year. The only things I have growing are 

 Hymenophylliim Tunbridgense from Table Mountain, where it 

 abounds, and Hygrophila from Madeira. The former flourishes : 

 the latter, being an inhabitant of a mountain some 4000 feet high, 

 feels the heat of Cape Town, and is consequently lank and lean. 



March 28th. Yesterday's south-easter affords talk to the town, 

 and its remaining effects give annoyance to cleanly people, like 

 me, who do not like to have their white jackets soiled by the 

 dust. This is the wind that makes the Cape disgusting. I 

 could not take my evening drive, and had to content myself with 

 a walk up and down the government gardens, and came home 

 the soonest that conscience would let me. I hate exercise I 

 think more than ever, yet it is absolutely necessary. The only 

 kind I enjoy is a drive to Sea Point, when I get out and wander 

 on the shore for an hour, and drive home again. Yesterday 

 at breakfast was brought in a superb bunch of flowers, among 

 which were half a dozen specimens of Disa grandijiora, which 

 would make your eyes glisten with wonder and delight. Oh ! 

 for a walk through Loddiges' houses. The Microloma is a 

 charming little climber, give him sticks to curl about. 



February 18th. On my table stands a " sweet Tuberose," by no 

 means " the sweetest flower for scent that blows." Indeed, were 

 it not out of respect to its worshippers, Shelley, &c, I might be 

 tempted to put it outside the window. Beauty it has of a very 

 high and classical order. It reminds me of flowers sculptured 

 in white marble or alabaster, purer and more graceful than a 

 white hyacinth, but in scent not to be compared to it, nur even 



