Chapter XX

. to-day, and feel it all ready to froth when the spigot is

turned.

O I forgot—and do forget. What did I mean? A waft of cloud has fallen on my mind, and I will write no more.

* * * * *

_Wednesday_, _I believe_, 8_th_ _June_.

Lots of David, and lots of David, and the devil any other news. Yesterday we were startled by great guns firing a salute, and to-day Whitmee (missionary) rode up to lunch, and we learned it was the _Curaçoa_ come in, the ship (according to rumour) in which I was to be deported. I went down to meet my fate, and the captain is to dine with me Saturday, so I guess I am not going this voyage. Even with the

## particularity with which I write to you, how much of my life goes

unexpressed; my troubles with a madman by the name of —, a genuine living lunatic, I believe, and jolly dangerous; my troubles about poor —, all these have dropped out; yet for moments they were very instant, and one of them is always present with me.

I have finished copying Chapter XXI . of David—‘_solus cum sola_; we travel together.’