these little moral failings make him invaluable at sea. always calls him ‘Sir Mungo Malagrowther,’ and he certainly is like him in some of his ways. He discovers land always two days before we approach it, which, they say, is very common with dogs; and, moreover, it piques Captain Grey that Chance should know more about the latitudes and longitudes than all his chronometers. The Cape is much the least picturesque station we have made yet, but the rocks are rather grand in a rough way, and the town looks white, and Dutch-like, and clean, which is, I believe, a most deceptious appearance. I shall leave the rest of my paper for the chance of something to tell you which is not about the ‘Jupiter,’ and, besides, I always feel low the days we land.
It seems that we have gone so far, and been through so much, and only to come amongst strangers at last; and we cannot even hope to find a letter, or a word about anybody we care for, but are still to go farther and hear less. It is horrid, and makes me feel utterly desperate at times. It is clearly not quite so good as being dead, as that is a separation without oblivion; but, luckily, these fits of lowness cannot last,
