Saturday, November 2nd

Very boisterous. Lat. 3946 S., Long. 945 E., 237 miles by log run in the last day. Two days more are to bring us to the Cape. Mrs Horrell got a bad fall on deck, which made her insensible and cut her face. A whale passed the ship within a few yards. Engaged on Cockroach No. VII all morning. It contained 'A Paper on Cookery' by FitzGerald, 'On Gardening', No. 6, by Wortley, on 'Albatrosses and Birds' by the Doctor, 'Sheep-farming' by Choimondeley, 'A Defence of the Association on Points Impugned of and Animadverted on in a Former Number', by Fitz., divers pieces of poetry serious and comic—one particularly good by FitzGerald. Read Sam Slick all evening. Passengers playing chess, cards, German tactics and other puzzles and reading and working in the cuddy. Many live the evenings in their cabins, and many are now confined to them against their will by colds and other consequences of our sudden burst from hot into cold weather.