F. N. B.



Letter I: Two months at sea--Melbourne.


Port Phillip Hotel, Melbourne. September 22d, 1865.
.... Now I must give you an account of our voyage: it has been a
very quick one for the immense distance traversed, sometimes under
canvas, but generally steaming. We saw no land between the Lizard
and Cape Otway light--that is, for fifty-seven days: and oh, the
monotony of that time!--the monotony of it! Our decks were so
crowded that we divided our walking hours, in order that each set of
passengers might have space to move about; for if every one had
taken it into their heads to exercise themselves at the same time,
we could hardly have exceeded the fisherman's definition of a walk,
"two steps and overboard." I am ashamed to say I was more or less
ill all the way, but, fortunately, F--- was not, and I rejoiced at
this from the most selfish motives, as he was able to take care of
me. I find that sea-sickness develops the worst part of one's
character with startling rapidity, and, as far as I am concerned, I
look back with self-abasement upon my callous indifference to the
sufferings of others, and apathetic absorption in my individual
misery.

Until we had fairly embarked, the well-meaning but ignorant among
our friends constantly assured us, with an air of conviction as to
the truth and wisdom of their words, that we were going at the very
best season of the year; but as soon as we could gather the opinions