Capetown, Thursday, May 8th.
AT last, after no end of ‘casus’ and ‘discrimina rerum’, I shall sail on
Saturday the 10th, per ship _Camperdown_, for East India Docks.
These weary six weeks have cost no end of money and temper. I have been
eating my heart out at the delay, but it was utterly impossible to go by
any of the Indian ships. They say there have never been so few ships
sailing from the Cape as this year, yet crowds were expected on account
of the Exhibition. The Attorney-General goes by our ship, so we are sure
of good usage; and I hear he is very agreeable. I have the best cabin
next to the stern cabin, in both senses of _next_. S— has come back from
the ship, where she has spent the day with the carpenter; and I am to go
on board to-morrow. Will you ask R— to cause inquiries to be made among
the Mollahs of Cairo for a Hadji, by name Abdool Rachman, the son of
Abdool Jemaalee, of Capetown, and, if possible, to get the inclosed
letter sent him? The poor people are in sad anxiety for their son, of
whom they have not heard for four months, and that from an old letter.
Henry will thus have a part of all the blessings which were solemnly
invoked on me by poor old Abdool, who is getting very infirm, but toddled
up and cracked his old fingers over my head, and invoked the protection
of Allah with all form; besides that Betsy sent me twelve dozen oranges
and lemons. Abdool Rachman is about twenty-six, a Malay of Capetown,
speaks Dutch and English, and is supposed to be studying theology at
Cairo. The letter is written by the prettiest Malay girl in Capetown.
I won’t enter upon my longings to be home again, and to see you all. I
must now see to my last commissions and things, and send this to go by
next mail.
God bless you all, and kiss my darlings, all three.