Sunday, March 2.—I passed out of sight of land at Adelaide, South Australia, at 7:20 on the evening of February 12, and picked it up again at 7 o'clock this morning, when I awoke and looked out of the window to see how the weather was. The land was South Africa. The voyage we have just completed takes the passenger out of sight of land longer than any other now being made in steamships. There are longer voyages, but on none of them is the passenger out of sight of land for eighteen days. And during the eighteen days we did not see a ship; no signs of life whatever, except a few birds and a few flying-fish. It was a monotonous, dreary experience I do not care to repeat. . . . South Africa, as seen in the vicinity of Durban, is mountainous, and the mountains are covered with verdure. . . . By 8:30, Durban could be plainly seen, and it did not look unlike a portion of Sydney, with its residences scattered over the hills, and almost every house covered with red tile roofing imported from France. . . . The officers said we should tie up at the dock by ten o'clock, and that is exactly what we did, although we did not reach the hotel until nearly noon. The delay was caused, it was said, by the slowness of the doctor and the customs officer, but I did not see the doctor at all, and the customs officer, when I finally got to him, did not open one of my packages. However, he charged me $3.75 duty on a portable typewriter which I cannot learn to use, having so long been accustomed to a different key-*board. Once out of the customs house, we called two negro ricksha men, and were soon on our way to the Marine Hotel; we avoided the Royal because we had
