thwith, and the next day sees haggard forms crawling about the deck
in extreme discomfort and high fever. The day after, however, all have
recovered and rise gloriously immune. Others, like myself, remembering
that we still stand only on the threshold of pathology, remain
unconvinced, resolved to trust to 'health and the laws of health.' But
if they will, invent a system of inoculation against bullet wounds I
will hasten to submit myself.

Yesterday we passed a homeward-bound liner, who made great efforts to
signal to us, but as she was a Union boat the captain refused to go near
enough to read the flags, and we still remain ignorant of the state of
the war. If the great lines of steamships to the Cape were to compete
against each other, as do those of the Atlantic, by increasing their
speeds, by lowering their rates, by improving the food and
accommodation, no one would complain, but it is difficult to see how the
public can be the gainers by the silly antagonism I have described.
However, the end is drawing very near, and since we have had a safe and
prosperous journey criticism may well waive the opportunity. Yet there
are few among the travellers who will not experience a keen feeling of
relief in exchanging the pettiness, the monotony, and the isolation of
the voyage for the activity of great enterprise and the interest of real
affairs: a relief which may, perhaps, be shared by the reader of these
letters. Yet if he has found the account of a dull voyage dull, he
should not complain; for is not that successful realism?

October 29.

News at last! This morning we sighted a sail--a large homeward-bound
steamer, spreading her canvas to catch the trades, and with who should
say what tidings on board. We crowded the decks, and from every point of
view telescopes, field glasses, and cameras were directed towards the
stranger. She passed us at scarcely two hundred yards, and as she did so
her crew and company, giving three hearty cheers, displayed a long black
board, on which was written in white paint: 'Boers defeated; three
battles; Penn Symons killed.' There was a little gasp of excitement.
Everyone stepped back from the bulwarks. Those who had not seen ran
eagerly up to ask what had happened. A dozen groups were formed, a hum
of conversation arose, and meanwhile the vessels separated--for the pace
of each was swift--and in a few moments the homeward bound lay far in
our wake.

What does it mean--this scrap of in