138 MEMOIR OF DR. HARVEY. 



ing, till in another age or two the face of the world has relapsed, 

 if not into its original darkness, into something far inferior to 

 the light it had enjoyed. The rising of a tide will illustrate 

 what I mean — wave after wave comes on, each running much 

 beyond the true level, but each again retreating nearly to that 

 level. One large wave may greatly outrun many that shall 

 come after it, and yet those lesser swells may have a greater 

 effect in raising the tide, because they retreat less. 



To Mrs. L . 



Cape Town, October 3, 1841. 



My dear S , 



If I could take credit for all the letters I have written in my 

 head, either when roaming alone over the tops of Table Mountain, 

 or when lying awake watching for the dawn, you would have 

 a tolerably respectable budget to acknowledge ; but, my dear, 

 there is often a wide and impassable gulf fixed between our 

 resolutions and our performance of them, and it is not always an 

 easy matter to find the bridge across, and so it has been with 

 me. On my arrival here, and for a long time afterwards, indeed 

 until lately, I had begun to think that my right hand had 

 forgotten its cunning, so dead did I feel to all my old purposes 

 and occupations, almost to my affections ; for though these 

 latter were constantly stirring about, it was more like the bustle 

 an autumn wind makes through a heap of withered leaves than 

 that refreshing rustle which we hear among the young beech- 

 leaves in spring. But I have in degree shaken off the black 

 dog. What has lately tended to lighten me I cannot tell, unless 

 it be that — 



" As birds begin 

 By instinct in their cage to rise, 

 When near their time for change of skies — " 



I feel some presentiment as if my time in Africa would not be 

 quite so long as I had anticipated when I last left home, and 

 thus 1 am more at ease in my present allotment. 



To a Cousin. 



October 24, 1841. 

 I heartily give you joy that you have entered into that rest 

 to which I hope yet to attain, if not in this world, yet in that 



