Catherine (Walch) Man’s Letters

Catherine (Walsh) Man, Aunt Peter

Catherine (Walsh) Man, Aunt Peter

The following two letters were written by Catherine (Walch) Man the wife of Peter Bruels Man. The first letter is to her son Henry Garnet Man and describes the wreck of the Lady Holland off Cape Town, South Africa. The second letter is to Catherine’s brother informing him of the death of his daughter Sarah. The wreck of the Lady Holland was described in Blackwood’s Magazine by Mary Molesworth one of the survivors and can be read here.

Cape Town,  29th February 1830

My beloved Garnet,

I trusted by this time to have had the delight of meeting you, but the Almighty appointed differently, and at this moment it is a fearful question what are His designs concerning me, as respects my reaching India. You will find from my letter to your Uncle how much I have gone through, since the day I left dear England, and you will be much shocked at the unexpected intelligence of the death of our beloved Sarah. An event of that nature so seldom occurs on a voyage to India that I was almost tempted to consider it was a peculiar misfortune, forgetting the frail tenure on which we hold every earthly good! How near have I been separated from you by an awful death! At that moment you were present to my mind with feelings of indescribable agony – yes, my beloved, my only child. I never knew till then all the power of a parent’s affections. I must now endeavour to give you a detailed account of that night of horrors!  I conclude you have heard we suffered shipwreck on the night of the 24th. A spell seemed to hang over that unhappy ship never have I passed a more miserable time than the four months and a half I was on board of her. A most protracted voyage only to have reached thus far.  For a fortnight before our misfortune we were baffled in our attempts to approach the Cape, frequently getting within two or three days sail, and then being driven back. We had also rough weather accompanied by a heavy swell of the sea (so) that for the last ten days we could scarcely keep our feet. On the morning of the 14th we were supposed to be 6o miles from land. Captain Snell had changed his destination from the Cape to Algoa Bay, as our making the former seemed so uncertain, and we were fearful of falling short of water. At dinner that day I remember Captain Snell making me observe the colour of the water which was of the darkest green, indicating our near approach to land. We little thought how near! Sea-weed was also observed to float about us, but no suspicion was excited. At half-past nine that night the lead was thrown for soundings and a hundred and twenty fathom run without finding ‘any. To guard against any possibility of mistake this was done twice. It was then declared we were twenty miles from the main land, and Captain Snell determined to run on his course till 10 o’clock, and then to put about. Our party generally remained in Mr.Lascelles’s cabin reading and working until this hour. On this memorable night we were just finishing the Loss of the Kent when that wild cry was heard on the deck which I instantly felt to be the signal of danger. I had for the two days previous been in a very nervous state, having strangely taken it into my head that we were out in our reckoning. I instantly started up Mr. Lascelles assured me that it must be someone overboard, but I felt to my very heart that we were going on shore and I rushed from the cabin. I had just reached the Cuddy table when the awful shook was felt; even now it thrills through every nerve! In a moment after she struck again, and one or two gentlemen from deck rushed into the Cuddy declaring all was lost! Miss Molesworth and Mr. and Mrs. Lascelles were then standing at their cabin door, the latter in extreme agitation, and I can well remember exhorting her to bear it tho’ our fate was inevitable!  My first feeling was to get on deck, and I sprang over the Cuddy table and stood out by the door. The moon was rising in beautiful splendour before me, while the vessel continued to sustain repeated shocks, each accompanied with a sound like the crashing of immense bones. I cannot give you an idea of it ! All was wild hurry on the deck, tho’ every order was promptly obeyed. As the Captain passed me, I grasped his hand saying, “I feel for you”. He answered wildly: ” I have done this, I only am to blame”.

By this time every effort had failed to get her off, and the exclamation was heard, she’s gone, she’s gone! All the ladies except those of our own party had retired to bed and were now assembled in the Cuddy in their night dresses. One (Mrs. Storey) stood on the deck supported by her husband. The ship then struck three or four times successively with such violence that we were obliged to catch at anything near to support ourselves. And the order was given to cut away the masts. Mrs. Storey was shook from her husband’s arms and fell several times on the deck. I expected every moment to see her go overboard, and felt  “Now begins our scene of horror”.  Every circumstance and word which then occurred is impressed vividly on my mind, as if now passing before me. I was surprised to feel so much animal courage while my frame trembled violently, and I continued almost mechanically to pray aloud that God would spare us. My eyes were riveted on the moon which seemed to rise with astonishing rapidity and I also remarked the situation of several beautiful stars with a kind of strange indefinite feeling that before long I should be in some way connected with them. After the first moment of agony I felt a kind of apathy stealing over my mind, and to rouse myself from it I tried to imagine the last struggle when the waves should close round me. Several persons around me were weeping and calling on their children and you, my beloved Garnet at that moment seemed to stand before me. It was now requested that the ladies would go below, as the main mast was about to fall and might do some injury.  We all assembled in the steerage just at the door of my Cabin.  I looked in and was struck with the appearance of comfort it present. The lamp was burning in the centre, the beds were made, and our books and writing things neatly arranged.  I thought of Sarah, so recently borne from it in her coffin, and felt grateful that she was spared the scene we had to pass through.  In about ten minutes the main mast went, tearing with it the mizzen mast, and notwithstanding the sails were all set, and the consequent weight of canvas, cordage, etc., no creature was hurt. We immediately returned to the Cuddy. I went on Deck and Mr. Lascelles took me forward to see the situation of the ship.  She had run between two Reefs of rock, and before us we evidently discerned an extent of land which was conjectured to be an island, but where we were no one knew, and it was feared if we ever got on shore we might find ourselves without means of sustenance, or among a savage people.  A boat was now dispatched to look for some landing place and bring us any information.  Every shock we expected the vessel would part in two, and her strength must have been wonderful to have stood it the way she did. It however became requisite to get out the long-boat without delay, and the ladies were told to prepare for entering it.  I went down to my cabin to prepare a complete change of everything, which I made into a small bundle; at such a moment it would have been even simple to think of securing anything beyond it.  I again went into the Cuddy and sat down in a corner by myself endeavouring to collect my thoughts and to conquer the apathy that was again stealing over me.  This to me is accountable at such a moment of imminent danger, but it probably proceeded from an overwrought state of feeling. An hour had passed since the departure of the first boat and we began to entertain serious apprehensions for its safety. Mr. Duff, a Scotch minister on Board now proposed that we should have prayers and we immediately knelt down; his prayer was solemn and affecting.  In a few minutes after it concluded the shocks increased in violence.  All the glass windows were broken and the lamps thrown from their hooks. The noise at the stern became terrific. I can only compare it to a thousand hammers beating against it. We expected the whole would give way, end the Sea rush in upon us. We endeavoured to get out upon Deck, but could not penetrate beyond a yard in consequence of fallen masts, canvas, etc. They had then just succeeded in freeing the long-boat; – it was found to be full of holes and they had to caulk and nail boards over it before it could be launched. The difficulty now was to get it over, and during this demur our vessel with a violent heave went so much over on one side that we thought the next lee would overturn her. This was a frightful moment, and all exclaimed that the boat was too late. Mercifully however the vessel remained stationary until the long-boat was launched over. We knew not at this moment whether it would not fill with water or be dashed on the rocks, but a loud cheer proclaimed that it had righted immediately!  It was requisite to draw it away from the breakers round by the stern, and in doing this the tow rope broke and all seemed lost. She appeared instantly lifted on the rocks. Captain Snell now threw himself on the Deck in despair for us, as we seemed to have lost the only means of saving our lives, but Mr. Lascelles instantly threw over the things to which the lead for sounding was attached and from the bravery of the only man in the boat it was caught and in a few moments the little bark was drawn out of danger! I am now, my dear Garnet, obliged to hurry my account to a conclusion, as the packet will be closed in half an hour:  It took a considerable time to get fifteen ladies into the boat. We were all put over from the stern with ropes.  And she filled so fast with water that we were obliged to bail without intermission. We stood to our knees in water.  By this time the first boat dispatched returned with the joyful tidings that we were on Dassen Island, only five miles from the mainland; and that several fishermen were there but no other inhabitants. We were then towed off  – for our long-boat had no rudder, and in the course of an hour landed safely on shore! … I must defer all further account until my next. We were two days and nights on the Island with little shelter. Most of us have lost everything!  God bless you, my beloved Garnet.  May He grant that we shall soon meet!

Farewell, believe me,

Your affectionate Mother

C. Man

Catherine Man to her brother on the death of his daughter.

Cape Town. 26 Febry. 1830.

My beloved Brother

After a period of nearly five months absence from dear England I address you from hence! An eventful period indeed to me! I could almost wish that the melancholy communications this will convey may have reached you ere its arrival, but that cannot be, since no vessel has recently sailed from this port. I am therefore the first to announce to you the loss of the Lady Holland! She was wrecked on the night of the 13th on Dassen Island. No life was lost, and I doubt not your first feelings will be poured forth in gratitude for our preservation. Yes God was merciful in that night of terror, and I lament before him the hardness of my heart not more deeply impressed with a sense of his undeserved goodness. But my beloved Friends, your tears must flow! Many of your fondest anticipations are overthrown, and you have to have one more lesson on the frailty of all this world can promise! He who inflicts the blow can alone sustain you and I am persuaded this hour of trial will not find you unacquainted with submission to His Will! I have just closed my melancholy packet for England, and now with a bleeding heart take up my pen for you. When on the night of the 13th. I stood in momentary expectation of an awful death, it was a cause of thankfulness to me that one most dear to us was removed beyond its reach. She had already passed through the dark Valley, and I had confident hope was then rejoicing in the presence of her God and Saviour! How can I soften to you, my precious Friends, the heart breaking tidings. It must be imparted and Nature must demand her first agonising burst of woe! Yes. We have lost our sweet and beloved Sarah. It pleased God to remove her from us on the 24 of last month, after an illness so rapid that we can scarcely at this moment realise her loss. Immediately after her death I wrote down a minute account of every circumstance which I will now copy for you. It was fortunate I did so, for my head is so bewildered with the late events that memory seems almost to have failed. Oh my dear Eliza, I feel for you at this moment more than I can express, how different will be our meeting (if it indeed be the will of God we ever meet) to that we had fondly anticipated. Ah, look beyond the present scene of your trial, what tho’ her sun has gone down while yet it is day” she is taken from the evil to come, and we have only to bless our God for the good hope he has given us of the safety of her immortal soul. A more gentle, humble, unoffending spirit never inhabited human frame; yet she knew her own Nothingness and that no safety was to be found but in the merits of her redeemer. The dear girl had never been well since she left England, it was remarked on the night of our embarkation that she had taken cold, which she assured me she was wholly free from on quitting Dover, and it was probably the result of a very cold and wet drive to Deal. Yet I cannot remember from that day (Friday) to the following Sunday when we embarked together, any appearance of it, but in the course of that evening, when walking on Deck, a medical gentleman on board remarked it to her, but certainly till we reached Madeira there was nothing about her that could excite alarm. Her suffering from seasickness was most severe and I was led not only to ascribe her general state of languor, but also her cough to some nervous irritation caused by the weakened state of her stomach, which could scarcely contain the slightest nourishment from the continued excess of seasickness. You know we were detained a month at Madeira towards the end of which her cough greatly increased so as to excite uneasiness in Mrs. Lascelles and myself. I attributed the increase of her cold to her having twice got wet, which was a risk we could not guard against every time we left the house, as the rain came on in sudden and violent bursts. We then for the first time talked of the propriety of having medical advice, but as we daily expected to leave the island and she continually assured me that she was not sensible of any illness, I delayed with the hope of soon putting her under the care of our Medical Gentleman on board. After a week’s sail from Madeira we reached St. Jago. We went on shore and walked nearly two hours. The day unfortunately was intensely hot. Poor dear! I find amongst her little memorandums this remark. We returned to Dinner, and I found myself very ill I am not prepared to say the heat of this day really injured her; it is certain that her complaint before then was deep-seated, beyond the reach of aid. However, the first acute symptom appeared that night in pain under the right shoulder. For this she was bled, and finding the pain not completely removed a blister was applied, successfully. The whole danger of the complaint lay in its sub acute character previous to this period, but from this, the rapid appearance of alarming symptoms, such as the pulse never under a hundred, quick and short breathing (tho’ I should not say difficult) so greatly raised our apprehensions that Mrs Lascelles requested the attendance of a second Medical Gentlemen who was a passenger on board. Both agreed in a decided opinion that her complaint was of a constitutional nature, and must have been long, tho’ insidiously forming. This opinion they have since given me in writing, drawn up as a medical case. Up to this period she was not confined for one day to her Bed, but was daily assisted sometimes two or three times to Mr. L’s cabin. At length it was recommended that she should go on Deck for air on a little exercise. She was not, however, more than four times on Deck at different intervals, and on the day following the last time the first appearance of expectorating blood took place. Both Medical Men were with her. They then informed me that the complaint had assumed its most alarming character, and we might apprehend that any recurrence of the circumstances would prove fatal, tho’ it was also possible that her life might be protracted for some time, this was a fortnight before her death. At three in the morning of the same day the expectoration again came on, slight in quantity but of a pure arterial nature. From that time to her death it wholly subsided. An abscess had formed on the chest, the bursting of which would cause instant suffocation, but the Haemorrhage which had already taken place was conjectured to have been caused by the rupture of some of the small inconsiderable vessels in consequence of pressure. From this period the dear girl never left her cabin, though she was daily dressed and moved to a sopha. She was blistered six times for weight on the chest and pain in the left shoulder, which gradually moved to the side. This was the severest treatment she was subjected to, and it is a great comfort to know that her sufferings were by no means great, either from the complaint or the treatment. Indeed it was the slow (slow in the first instance) and subacute character of the disease that constituted its danger by not evincing until too late symptoms to excite alarm. When these did appear the rapidity of its progress was astonishing. The most powerful Medicine (digitalis) had no effect in reducing the pulse, the only thing that procured temporary relief (and that but slightly) was blistering, but nothing in the slightest degree reached the complaint, plainly proving the constitutional pre-disposition of her system. I was very slow in admitting this belief, but now I am fairly persuaded of it. Four days preceding her death she appeared to be decidedly better; her cough was better, and expectoration nearly ceased. The last I find was in reality an alarming symptom. Her mind became much more alive, she was surprisingly more cheerful, and conversed freely, generally she had evinced much unwillingness to speak, as if great exertion was required in arousing her mental powers. Never can I forget her lovely placid countenance, her sweet smile, and her beautiful blush whenever she was addressed, but alas, these were perhaps fatal signs of the enemy beneath. Having closely attended her she became greatly endeared to me. Dr. and Mrs. Lascelles and her sister were always ready to relieve me, there was also an elderly respectable English servant on Board, much experienced as a Nurse, but I could scarcely bear that the slightest thing should be done for her by another. About four days previous to the dear girl’s death Dr. Lascelles deemed it proper that Miss Molesworth should leave the Cabin. I do not believe the measure was recommended by the medical men, but having expressed to them his fears, they of course assented and we can fully admit their propriety. A fear of alarming dear Sarah had induced him to protract the measure; I am however convinced she felt none, as the measure was easily ascribed to the advantage of better regulating the temperature of her Cabin. On Saturday she appeared in good spirits, and found much alleviation to her cough from inhaling the steam of hot vinegar and water, and on the previous day the expectoration had become more free with favorable appearances. I had however totally ceased to be sanguine from the very candid statements of both medical men, but I did trust, poor darling, that she would reach the Cape, perhaps India! Her appetite had for weeks entirely failed, but on this day she was enabled to taste a little animal food. In the evening I was persuaded to go for a short turn on deck, having been confined for several days to the Cabin. Mrs. Lascelles’ Ayah (a good creature whom you may remember) sat with her and the dear girl gave many directions about things she wished to have placed ready for landing at the Cape, generally her eyes filled with tears and she said nothing when we spoke of arriving there. About ten o’clock as usual her Bed was made and she was placed comfortably in it for the night. I then kissed her and she threw her arms around me, which she had done several times during the day. We both slept until one o’clock, when I heard her cough and immediately rose to give her a little lemonade. She drank nearly the tumblerfull, and returned it to me with a smile, but her cough immediately returned in rather a distressing manner, and while I was pouring out a little vinegar and honey she called to me in great alarm that she was spitting blood! I tried to soothe her, but she was greatly agitated, and finding the quantity of blood passed increasing. I called for assistance and a great alarm was excited. Poor dear, for about ten minutes she continued to cough up qantities, trembling violently. She had before said she could not sustain another attack, yet it is surprising that I did then think she was dying, and my shock was so extreme that I became unable to support her, when an extraordinary sound became audible in her throat, and she appeared to struggle greatly. I said, ‘Speak to me Love, what is it,’. She evidently in reply shook both her hands almost wildly indicating tho’ sensible that she could not speak. Alas, the abscess had burst and was then filling the air-cells of the lungs; in a minute after she fell back in the Doctor’s arms, an in ten minutes more all signs of pulsation ceased! We stood in mute anguish around her couch until the Doctor, laying her upon the Pillow, gave us a look that told us all was over. Our grief could no longer disturb her dying moments! Mrs. Lascelles instantly bore me from the scene, but it was impossible to resign the last sad offices to the hands of others, and I returned in a few minutes I indulged the hope of preserving her sweet remains until the following day (she expired on Sunday morning) but the impropriety of the attempt was so forcibly impressed on me that I was compelled to yield, and it was arranged that the sad ceremony should take place immediately after the morning service, which was put off as late as possible. Not on shore, surrounded by her nearest kindred could more respect and propriety have been observed. I had a black cloth habit on Board which served which served to cover her coffin, and I found attention had been paid to lining it neatly; these perhaps are trifles, yet I feel, my dear Friends, when your grief is in some degree softened, they will be soothing to you as proofs of attention and respect. After giving her the last sad kiss, I removed with dear Mary Molesworth into an adjoining Cabin. This dear girl exhibited a most feeling heart, and our tears flowed together as the sound of enclosing sweet Sarah in her last abode mingled with the voice of Captain Snell reading the psalms and lessons for the day. The following verses in the 118th Psalm came to my heart with that deep solemnity which can only be felt at such a moment. 19 v. :- “Open to me the gates of righteousness, that I may go into them, and give thanks unto the Lord. This is the gate of the Lord, the righteous shall enter into it. I will thank thee for Thou hast heard me, and art become my Salvation. The same stone which the builders refused, is become the headstone in the corner.” Surely our beloved Sarah had entered this gate, for the stone had not been to her a brook of offence. And clothed in the Robe of imputed Righteousness, we beheld her, by faith, standing before the Throne of Grace and giving thanks to Him who had become her Salvation! Is not this rich consolation, my beloved Eliza? You would not have her back again! At length the doors of her Cabin were thrown wide open, and she who had so recently entered there in the bloom of youth, beauty, and apparent health was carried forth to be committed to the silent deep! I confess that to me there is nothing dreadful in this circumstance, the only really distressing part of it is that of dying far from her home, and her relatives. Many tears have been shed for her, but who could weep like them! Poor Darling, we cannot tell what thought of them may have rushed in to her mind during that last sad struggle! She sometime spoke of them to her friends, but to me it seemed a theme she could not trust herself with; her eyes would fill and she would turn away. I have as yet only alluded to the subject which I know, my Friends, you feel to be of the greatest moment; and you will feel what an arduous task I had to perform from the time I was made acquainted with her danger. I could not speak to my God that she could not be prepared to appear in His presence, you know that natural reserve of her disposition, and how little she expressed her feelings on any subject, and you will form some idea how extremely painful it must be to force into the recesses of a mind thus constituted. I was also aware that I should bring on myself much odium if not persecution, and this was too new to me not to be greatly dreaded. My dearest James, I know you feel for your sister, placed under circumstances of heavy responsibility, which all the previous habits of my life rendered me unfit for. When I left the dear circle from whom I have only experienced affection and tenderness, I little imagined how much of the reverse I was to experience within the short space of a few months. I have this consolation, I did not shrink form my duty; or should it please God again to restore me to the reciprocal ties of kindred and friends, all my regrets will be forgotten in the gratitude for the benefit which affliction can only bestow. I mentioned that Sarah was as much alarmed when attacked by the first expectoration of blood, connecting it I have no doubt with the very recent and similar case of her Cousin Henry. She remained for some time dejected and thoughtful, but said nothing that could lead me to form any conclusion whether she was awakened to a serious sense of her danger. She had been accustomed to hear much on the subject of religion and I daily read to her whatever seemed to me most likely to touch her mind; still we had no positive evidence that it was rightly directed. On the evening following the day on which her first alarming symptoms appeared was the first time I ventured any direct allusion to herself respecting her situation. I remarked on the alarm she evinced, and asked if it proceeded from any feeling that her illness was dangerous. She replied: Yes, because there was Blood!” I then said: I will not deceive you; I believe there is danger. It may be God’s will to restore you, but in either case you must be sensible that the design of this application is to bring you to Himself.” I then entreated her to use every means for obtaining a lively sense of God’s love and pardon through the merits of the precious Redeemer, and asked if she would like to converse on the subject with Mr. Duff, a Scotch Minister on Board, and a most excellent and exemplary Christian. She readily assented, but though I could observe she was much affected by my manner of address, she made no comment. In a few minutes she turned away on the Sopha, and I could discover she was weeping. My own heart was so full that I could not look towards her, or venture to press the subject. After this Mr. Duff daily visited her, and he considered the state of her mind as very promising. There was a natural timidity and reserve about her which made it very difficult to draw her out and no doubt to overcome it was a most painful effort to herself, but on the last interview in particular she was more communicative and lamented that her heart was not more sensibly alive to the important truth of the Gospel. I regu1arly prayed with her in the morning, and our plan in reading Scripture was to follow up each subject through parallel passages. These seasons, I am convinced were precious to us both, and after she was dressed and removed to the sopha (dear Mary Molesworth’s bed, which she resigned to her) our Cabin door was shut, and we enjoyed the privilege of addressing our Saviour thro’ faith in that promise that where “two are met in His Name, there will He be present”. Her attention at these times was even solemn, and I have sometimes been so much overcome as to be unable to proceed in prayer, which she generally repeated in an audible whisper. All this must have impressed her with a serious feeling of her situation; yet she never but on one occasion alluded expressly to her danger. She then said to one of her young friends; “I shall not live long – perhaps not through this month!” Poor darling, this was indeed verified!

I have thus endeavoured, my dearest James and Eliza, to give you every particular connected with your sad bereavement; and this is the fourth time I have detailed them. How my heart bleeds for her dear Parents! When I determined upon my passage for India, I was solely induced by the desire of engaging Mr. Lascelles’s protection, who proposed it to me in the kindest manner. I had not the most remote idea of undertaking any responsibility, and feel my error in permitting the opportunity you had previously assayed for my voyage to pass over. I was decidedly wrong in consenting to share a Cabin with others, yet I cannot lament that it led to my attendance on the dear creature we have lost, which seemed naturally to devolve upon me thro’ my dr. James’s union with her sister. You will feel for me, but you can have no idea of the amount of suffering I have endured through the whole of this most protracted, most wretched voyage. Captain Snell offered Sarah and me a separate Cabin, which I would gladly have accepted had we agreed to any terms; as it was I did not chuse to owe him the obligation. He also offered me the use of his own Cabin for some days after her death, but I would, not for a moment seem to yield my sense of his improper conduct towards our friends the Lascelles; he however persisted in visiting me daily, and assured me that I was entirely mistaken in ascribing any part of his conduct as directed against myself, tho’ I had so unaccountably persisted in identifying myself with the others! All this we can talk over when we meet. At the moment when Eternity seemed to open before us, forgiveness was mutually exchanged, by all parties. Therefore I must consider any allusion to the past events with a feeling of recrimination and acrimony, as highly culpable God knows – when the first crash of our vessel against the Rooks struck to my heart like the summons to meet my God, I uttered a prayer for pardon that such sentiments had ever possessed my mind. Ah, how often does the disciple of the meek and lowly Jesus forget whom he has to take up his cross and follow. Mr L. persisted in leaving his own Cabin for several nights, that I might share it with his wife and sister and on many occasions they have been most kind. Indeed the remembrance of all we have suffered together, I think, cannot soon be obliterated. I intended to continue in the same boarding house with them during our stay at the Cape, but two days after our arrival I was surprised by an invitation from Lady Frances Cole to reside at the Government House. I found that Captain Story has named me to her, which led, to this, but I felt most reluctant to avail myself of it, tho’ Mr. Lascelles strongly urged me to accept it. I called on Lady Frances to express my thanks and apologies, but the extreme and feeling kindness of her manner led me to change my intention, and as the family were then in the country, and she assured me I should be undisturbed in my own appartments, I felt that change would be desirable from a public boarding-house, in my then very depressed state of spirits. She then named that a Miss Lightfoot had been recommended to her protection and inquired if I would admit her to share my accommodation, which of course I readily acceded to. This poor girl was most unpleasantly situated, having no connection with Mr. Lascelle’s Party. I have now been here ten days, and see Lady Francis or her sister Lady Catherine Bell every morning, who kindly aid me in every facility for refitting on the cheapest terms, by recommendation to their own People, a most essential kindness in a place so extravagant as the Cape, and I have been able to renew! My nerves are so much shaken that I almost sicken at the prospect of renewing the Voyage, much as I desire to shorten the period of our separation. I have however secured a Cabin on Board the William Glen Anderson which Mr. L. has taken up and chartered and we expect to sail in about two weeks.

How does this place renew juvenile recollections, when children, we, my dear James, have together been over these very mountains chasing grasshoppers and the many beautiful insects which abound here. I perfectly remember standing to look at the fountain before the Government House, which I now inhabit with such very different feelings. Scenes like those I have passed thro make us egotists, and I suspect this would be strongly manifested could we attend to the narrative of each actor in the late eventful scenes.

Farewell my friends – may the God of all consolation comfort and bless you.

C. Man

Leave a Reply