FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 117 
sunlit waves. Take with you a pipe and a book — it is 
immaterial whether there is anything in either of them, 
I merely suggest them for those unrestful mortals who 
can't do nothing without pretending to do something. 
Spend twelve hours out of the twenty-four in this retire- 
ment, two hours after meals, and eight after bedtime, 
neither reading, thinking, nor smoking too hard. If after 
you have attended to these instructions for the space of 
two calendar months you still feel no better, I would 
advise you to give up your case. 
As assistant-surgeon I have spoken, as a friend I 
warn you — sling your hammock high enough to be out 
of the way of passers-by, for of all things in the world 
it is the most annoying when you are half awake, only 
dimly conscious of the warm wind whispering, soft 
on your cheek as a lover's sigh, when your thoughts 
are in time to the short frou-frou of the silky-blue 
waves, to receive a* sudden violent shock from some- 
body's head passing below ; it is so annoying, too, when 
you look over your hammock edge to see some fellow 
going away, with his hand on the back of his neck, 
cussing — as if he had hurt himself as much as he had 
hurt you. No one ever seems to think that a ham- 
mock is full till they have bumped their head against 
it. 
About three o'clock we have afternoon tea, Indian, 
of course Chargola, infused fifty-nine seconds, in Nankin 
china, with clotted cream. This we have in imagina- 
tion. As plain matter of fact, we put some of the 
foliage of the birch tree, that does duty as Chargola, 
