4 LETTERS FROM MADRAS, [er. 1.
LETTER THE SECOND.
August 29th, Lat, 22° N., Lon, 234° W.
The Captain has just told us that he expects to pass a ship every day, so we are all setting to work getting our letters ready, as he only allows five minutes for sealing and sending off. I hope, by the time you receive this letter, Frank will have arrived safely at home, and not the worse for his journey. Pray make him write to me directly; I shali be quite uneasy til] I hear from him, for we left him at Madeixa quite ignorant of what. his plans might be. Everybody on board was very sorry to lose him, and they all sing his praises with much good taste,
We are now entering the Tropics, and the weather is still cool, owing to the constant breeze. We have had no calms, but on an average have made about one hundred and fifty miles in the twenty-four hours. I suspect I shall never get over the sea-sickness in rough weather, and I almost give up the hope of employing myself, for I really can do nothing; but as long as I keep quiet, and do not interrupt my idleness, I am much better. Towards evening, like all other sea-sick people, I grow very brisk, and can walk the quarter-deck, and chirp with anybody. Our chief adventures since we left Madeira haye been the sight of flying-fish and porpoises, I made a good many sketches at Madeira, but cannot work much towards finishing them. I have learnt two or three Tamul verbs, and read different bits of different books—made the Captain teach me now and then a little geography, and the first mate a little astronomy—finished Melville’s ‘ University Sermons’—chatted with our fellow-passengers —and that is all I have done; and in fhet that is the way most of the ladies spend their time on board ship, Weare too uncomfortable to be industrious, and toa much interrupted and unsettled to be busy.
September 3rd. We are beginning to be aware of our latitude. The trade-winds have left us, and we havea strong sus-
\ Picion of a calm coming on; but, unluckily, calm does not
