of with pleasure and pain. I am always thinking. I have just finished Robert’s ‘Schwarz,’ and have liked it very much. Tell Willy I have not worn his sash yet, because the sea spoils ribbons; but it is safe in my drawer. Mind you write enough. George bears the sea with great philosophy. Fanny has taken it in great aversion. I always hated it, but do not say much now. is in spirits for a day or two, then wretched, and then bursts out into violent abuse, without minding who hears him: ‘I wish I was second pot-boy at the Pig and Whistle,’ he says to the captain and the officers who think there never was anything like the luxury of the ‘Jupiter.’ ‘A man who had the offer of two good crossings to sweep in London, or of good stone-breaking in the Edgeware Road, must have been mad to come out as I did.’
We are so squalled, and rolled, and pitched, poor things! Not but what those squalls are very often advantageous.
It was a beautiful, sunshiny, quiet morning till twelve, and yet the ship rolled so I could
