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but with me its course appears rapid; and when I look back I am surprised at the lapse of days since I left land.
18th.—Last night the appearance of Jupiter, when rising above the horizon, was so singular, that many persons (thinking of pirates) cried out in alarm, "a light, a light;" his rapid ascent in the heavens, however, soon put an end to conjectures.
Our course is now S.E. direct for the Cape—many birds have been flying about us.
20th.—What a busy day this is with you–preparing for grouse shooting. Shall I ever shoot grouse with you again? As I have nothing else to do, I must scribble poetry on the occasion.
FIRST DAY OF THE SHOOTING SEASON—AT SEA.
Oh, what a spirit-stirring day
For me would this have been,
Had I on land been doomed to stay;
But here, how changed the scene!
I tread not now the heathy plains,
Nor climb the mountain's side,
Where undisturb'd the moor-cock reigns
In solitary pride.
My path is on the trackless wave,
And through the billowy foam;
Where ocean birds together have
Their cradle and their tomb.
But memory dwells on that dear sound,
The cheerful, welcome home;
When amidst friends those joys were found
Which ne'er again may come.
But, home and friends, where shall I find?–
Henceforth 'twill be my part
To seek for friends within my mind;
My home must be my heart.
