At Braganza,
Quaffed no end of cup,
But Don Quixit
Said "Don't mix it—
Let us go and sup."
Have composed my own music to this—call it my musical cup-yright. Shan't publish it, for fear of pirates. No other rates at sea, except pi-rates, and the rate we're now going at—i.e., two knots an hour, and ties pay the dealer. Hoorah! I enclose portrait of self after the above symposium, carried round the town to the air of "Please to Remember," &c. Too Novembery perhaps, but everything too previous here, and it's summer even in winter, and winter's nowhere, except in some other places. This is the meteorological or illogical rule, the "Summa Lex." Look at my bearers! These are heads of the people, eh? Carried round town in triumph, and then back to the ship, which I now look upon as my native place, or the land of my berth!
"ONCE MORE ABOARD THE LUGGER!"
Here we are, off the Cape of Good Hope. HOPE, as you know, was a worthy Admiral who discovered this place; he is mentioned by the poet as having done so; you remember—
"Hope told a flattering tale;"