arrive, and they are all becoming impatient. In the midshipmen’s birth the freehold of two dirty shirts for one clean one has been offered and refused, and the instant it grows dusk, they all appear in their hot blue clothes, white trowsers are become so scarce.
To recur to what I was saying of useful presents—I thought Mr. C.’s ‘Pompeii’ a beautiful book, but that it would appear only on state occasions, whereas it has been in constant use. The captain wanted me to paint a large flying figure for the steerage—we found a pattern in ‘Pompeii;’ a figure of Jupiter was wanted—there he is in ‘Pompeii;’ some of the officers who dine with us are too shy to speak in the evening—they all look at ‘Pompeii.’ ’s ‘Schiller’ is my constant study. The sailors sing Scotch songs in the evening, and I found them in Burns.
At last, dearest , here we are, after seventy-two days out of sight of land. We got up this morning with a lovely jungle in sight. However, we are not particular about the quality, so as it be land; and now every moment is interesting. Last night the fun
