SECOND RESIDENCE AT CAPE TOWN. 97 



distance below, is the blue bay, now covered with " white 

 horses." The steeple of St. George's church is the most pro- 

 minent feature in the foreground, but too modern and roman- 

 cemented to suit my fancy. So much for outwards. Inwards, 

 now : — Before me is a large pile of bookshelves, rich in botanic 

 lore, with a very slight mixture of other varieties ; and behind 

 is a cabinet and two piles of cedar-boxes, containing the treasures 

 of the earth. The table I write at has a very miscellaneous 

 cargo. Plants in pressing-books, mingled with " Scott's Life," 

 Cottle's "Recollections of Coleridge," " Mrs. *Dalgairns' Cookery," 

 and several glasses full of specimens waiting to be drawn and 

 described. Some of these are lovely ; among which, staring 

 me in the face, is an exquisitely beautiful Orchis (Bartliolina 

 pecUnata), which I found yesterday for the first time — a slender 

 stem with a solitary flower, large, blue and white, its labellum 

 very extended ; altogether a plant to be dreamt of rather 

 than seen. Next let me mention a pot of figs, which I am 

 pickling by way of experiment, a box of instruments, a paint- 

 box and other learned lumber ; a green veil and a tin box ; 

 and now I have shown my table to be pretty full. 



I have just finished Cottle's "Recollections of Coleridge." 

 I love and admire him more than ever, and, I must add, pity him 

 also. His opium malady appears infinitely worse than I had 

 any idea of, but it seems he latterly conquered it a good deal. 

 Some of his letters when under depression are very touching. 

 After all, what an awful landmark his life is to persons possessed 

 of talents, though few are intrusted with such as his — a strange 

 mixture of strength and weakness. I would place his life and 

 works in the hands of any young person of talent, as books from 

 which most important moral lessons may be drawn. But I grow 

 prosy, and wish rather to walk than to talk. 



Since my first letter from Summerville 1 days have grown into 

 weeks, and matters still go on smoothly and well. I have got 

 a hen sitting on thirteen eggs, but I don't reckon my chickens 

 before they are hatched, though it is a practice I have largely 

 indulged in my whole life long. I am sadly in want of another 

 u clocking " hen for a batch of duck eggs that are waiting her 

 convenience, and I shall then rest content. What with hens, 



1 He had called this place after his old home. 



