---

[Enlarge]

CHART SHOWING TRACK OF THE YACHT “SUNBEAM” FROM NOV. 1886 TO DEC. 1887.

---

‘SUNBEAM,’ R.Y.S., CHRISTMAS DAY, 1886

---

THE LAST VOYAGE

Annie Brassey

1887.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld; Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more!

---

LONDON: LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET
1889

All rights reserved

---

In giving to the reading world these pages of the last Journal of one of the most popular writers of our day, no apology can be needed, and but little explanation.

A word had better perhaps be said, and said here, as to my share in its composition. It is now twelve years ago since my friend—then Mrs. Brassey—asked my advice and assistance in arranging the Diary she had kept during the eleven months' cruise of the 'Sunbeam.' This assistance I gladly gave, and she and I worked together, chiefly at reducing the mass of information gathered during the voyage. I often felt it hard to have to do away with interesting and amusing matter in order to reduce the book even to the size in which it appeared. It was a very pleasant and easy task, and I think the only difference of opinion which ever arose between us was as to the intrinsic merit of the manuscript. No one could have been more diffident than the writer of those charming pages; and it needed all the encouragement which both I and her friend and publisher, Mr. T. Norton Longman, could offer, to induce her to use many of the simple little details of her life, literally 'on the ocean wave.'

The success of the 'Voyage of the "Sunbeam"' need not be dwelt on here; it fully justified our opinion, surprising its writer more than any one else by its sudden and yet lasting popularity. Other works, also well received and well known to the public, followed during the next few years, with which I had nothing to do. This last Journal now comes before Lady Brassey's world-wide public, invested with a pathos and sadness all its own.

I venture to think that no one can read these pages without admiration and regret; admiration for the courage which sustained the writer amid the weakness of failing health, and regret that the story of a life so unselfish and so devoted to the welfare of others should have ended so soon.

On his return home, in December 1887, from this last cruise, Lord Brassey placed in my hands his wife's journals and manuscript notes, knowing that they would be reverently and tenderly dealt with, and believing that, on account of my previous experience with the 'Voyage of the "Sunbeam,"' I should understand better than any one else the writer's wishes.

My task has been a sad and in some respects a difficult one. Not only do I keenly miss the bright intelligence which on a former occasion made every obscure point clear to me directly, but the notes themselves are necessarily very fragmentary in places. It astonishes me that any diary at all should have been kept amid the enthusiasm which greeted the arrival and departure of the 'Sunbeam' at every port, the hurry and confusion of constant travelling, and, saddest of all, the evidences of daily increasing weakness. Great also has been my admiration for the indomitable spirit which lifted the frail body above and beyond all considerations of self. I need not here call attention to Lady Brassey's devotion to the cause of suffering shown in her unceasing efforts to establish branches of the St. John Ambulance Association all over the world. It will be seen that the last words of the Journal refer to this subject, so near the writer's heart.

I have thought it best to allow the mere rough outline diary of the first part of the Indian journey to appear exactly as it stands, instead of attempting to enlarge it, which could have been done from Lord Brassey's notes. But, unhappily, the chief interest now of every word of this volume will consist, not in any information conveyed—for that could easily be supplied from other sources—but in the fact of its being Lady Brassey's own impression jotted hastily down at the moment. After reaching Hyderabad there was more leisure and an interval of better health; consequently each day's record is fuller. After August 29th the brief jottings of the first Indian days are resumed, but I have not felt able to lay these notes before the public, for they are simple records of suffering and helpless weakness, too private and sacred for publication. They extend up to September 10th, only four days before the end.

No one but Lord Brassey could take up the story after that date, and it is therefore to his pen that we owe the succeeding pages. All through the Journal I found constant references to what are called in the family the 'Sunbeam Papers,' a journal kept by Lord Brassey and printed for private circulation. With his permission, I have availed myself of these notes wherever I could do so, and I believe that this is what Lady Brassey would have wished. There were also, with the MSS., many interesting newspaper extracts referring to public utterances of Lord Brassey, but of these want of space compels me only to give three, specially alluded to by his wife, which will be found in the Appendix.

Lady Brassey had created an extraordinarily intimate and friendly feeling between herself and her readers all over the world. It has been felt in accordance with this mutual and affectionate understanding to give little personal details, and even a memoir compiled by Lord Brassey for his children during the sad days following the 14th of September, to the friendly eyes which will read with regret the last Journal of one who has been their pleasant chronicler and chatty fellow-traveller for so long. It must always seem as if Lady Brassey wrote specially for those who did not enjoy her facilities for going about and seeing everything.

I must express my thanks to Lady Brassey's secretaries for the kind help they have afforded me, not only in deciphering MSS., but in verifying dates and names of places.

M.A. BROOME.

London: March 1888.

---

CHAPTER		PAGE
	Memoir	xiii
	Introductory Chapter	1
I.	Bombay to Jubbulpore	9
II.	Hyderabad and Poona	34
III.	Bombay	56
IV.	Bombay to Goa	73
V.	Colombo	97
VI.	Rangoon	119
VII.	Labuan	155
VIII.	Eleopura	175
IX.	Celebes	203
X.	Western Australia	229
XI.	Albany to Adelaide	251
XII.	Adelaide	269
XIII.	Victoria	287
XIV.	New South Wales	309
XV.	New South Wales (continued)	325
XVI.	Queensland	339
XVII.	The East Coast	367
XVIII.	East Coast (continued)	391
XIX.	Prince of Wales' Island	409
	Appendix	427
	Index	479

---

FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.

'Sunbeam,' R.Y.S., Christmas Day, 1886	Frontispiece
Port Said Coaling-Party	To face page	1
Elephanta Caves	"	18
Peshawur Coal-Depot	"	26
En Route to Hunt Black-Buck with Cheetah	"	40
Patiala Elephants: the Drive	"	62
Religious Festival, Malabar Point	"	70
Benares and the Sacred Ganges	"	84
Moulmein, from the River	"	132
Singapore, Entrance to Harbour	"	140
Sarawak, Borneo: Opposite the Rajah's Fort	"	148
Fishing-Stakes, Sarawak River	"	162
Entrance to Bird's-Nest Caves, Madai	"	184
Fording the Stream for Madai	"	196
Kina Balu, 13,700 feet	"	210
Bad Weather, West Coast of Australia	"	226
Tree-Ferns, Australia	"	244
North Head, Sydney Harbour	"	306
Aborigines in Camp	"	370
Ant-Hills, Queensland, Australia	"	422

---

ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT.

	PAGE
Title-page
Eventide	xiii
Evening Prayer	1
Portsmouth, H.M.S. 'Hercules'	2
Tanks at Aden	3
Kurrachee Harbour	5
The Mirs Falconer	5
Bokhara Man	6
Going to Dinner	6
Our Home on Wheels	7
Jubilee Illuminations, Bombay	9
Crossing the Indus	10
Shikarpur Bazaar	11
Sukhur Bridge, Indus	12
Old Sukhur	13
Temple of the Sun, Mooltan	14
Runjeet Singh's Tomb, Lahore	15
Cañon, Murree	16
Afghans at Jamrud	17
Jamrud Fort	18
Camel-guns and Standard	18
Cabul Native, Lahore	19
Lahore	19
Camel Team	20
Amritsar	20
Patiala Elephants	21
'Cross-country	22
Elephants Drinking	22
Mounting	22
The Kutub Minar	23
Base of Kutub Minar	24
Old Delhi and Weapons	25
Ulwar	26
Palace in the Ulwar Fort	27
Sar-Bahr, Gwalior	28
Group of Natives	29
Water-carrier, Benares	30
Nerbudda River—Marble Rocks	31
Meari, the Last of the Thugs	31
Temple at Ellora	32
The Fort, Poonah	34
Gun Rock	36
One-Tree Hill	37
Mir Alam, Hyderabad	38
Cheetah-cart	40
Death of the Buck	41
Mosque Entrance	44
The Hamyan Jump, Delhi	48
No Coal	51
Interior, Delhi	53
Bengal Lancer—Rawul Pindi	56
The Ghauts, Bombay	58
Bodyguard and Peon, Malabar Point	60
The Apollo Bunder	65
Bombay Harbour	67
Omnibus-horse Tope	68
Hindoo Girl	69
At the Children's Ball	70
The Arch of the Viceroys, Goa	73
Jinjeera Fort	75
Off Ratnagiri	77
Vingora Rocks	79
Vingora Lighthouse	81
Portuguese Rowlock	82
Cape Goa Entrance	83
St. Xavier, Goa	87
Inquisition Stake, Goa	89
View in Ceylon	97
Buddhist Priest	99
Talipot Palm	101
Seychelles Palm	103
Governor's Peon, Kandy	104
Cingalese Weapons	105
Point de Galle	106
Trincomalee Harbour	108
Jumping Fish (Periophthalmus Kolreuteri)	110
Sami Rock	114
Coco Island Light	116
Entrance to Caves at Moulmein	119
Merchant Dhows, Indian Ocean	120
Great Pagoda Court	122
Entrance to Temple	123
Dagon	125
Rangoon Boat, Stern	126
Ditto Stem	127
Moulmein	129
Elephants at Work	130
Ditto	131
Moulmein River Boat	132
On the Irrawaddy	133
Entrance to Moulmein Caves	135
Ferry at Morcenatin	136
Point Amherst, Water Temple	138
Bound South	139
Traveller's Palm, Singapore	142
Junks, Singapore	144
Navigation Boards, River Kuching	146
Fire-tube	148
Dyak	149
Kuching	152
The Fort	153
Labuan	155
Malay Village, Labuan	158
Brunei Hats	161
Pangeran's Arrival	164
Pitcher Plants and Kina Balu	169
Kudat	171
On the Fore-yard, making the Land	173
In the Bird's-Nest Caves, Madai	175
Mr. Flint's Bungalow	177
Kapuan Timber-station	179
Dyak Dance	181
Borneo Weapons	184
Sandakan, bearing N.	185
Entering River, Madai	187
Commissariat Department	189
Return of the Head-Hunter	192
Sulus at Silam	198
Returning at Low Water	199
Dutch Fort, Macassar	203
The Shooting Party	207
Under the Sun	209
Our Coachman, Macassar	211
Dutch (Native) Soldiers	212
Macassar Policeman	213
Fishing-boat, Allas Strait	216
Our Wind-bob	218
More Bad Weather	220
Topmast Stunsails	223
Effect of a Squall	225
Fauna, W. Australia	229
Kingia	233
Black-Boys	236
A Breakdown in the Bush	243
Boomerangs or Kylies	249
Getting under way	251
An Aboriginal	254
The Port Watch	257
Running Down—Easting	260
Cracking on	261
Proclamation-Tree, Glenelg	264
'Protector' Gunboat	267
Sunset	269
Adelaide	272
Stypandra umbellata	275
On the Murray River	278
A Buckboard	280
Ballarat	282
Miners' Camp	284
Exhibition Buildings, Melbourne	287
Victoria Defence Fleet	289
Lancers and Soudan Contingent	292
Selectors	296
Ferns	302
A Forest Bridge	304
Sydney Harbour	307
Banksias, &c., New South Wales	309
Summer Hill Creek	313
Waterfall Gully	318
Katoomba	320
Cook's Monument, Botany Bay	323
Signal Station, Newcastle	325
Kangaroo-foot (Arrigozanthus)	327
Cattle crossing the Darling River	333
Sheep crossing River	335
Off the Track	337
Rockhampton Lilies	339
Fern Forest	341
German Waggon	346
Turpentine-Tree	348
Crinum asiaticum	349
Ti-Trees	355
Mount Morgan	357
The Ford	363
Native Weapons, Queensland	366
Balloon Canvas	367
Stowing Foretopsail	371
Queensland Natives	373
Cardwell School House	375
Dead Crocodile on Snag	378
The Train in the Bush	382
Zamoa Tree	384
On the Johnstone River	387
Navigators	389
Thursday Island	391
Cooktown	393
Coral on Pearl-oyster	396
Drum from Murray Island	402
Hammer-headed Oyster	404
Claremont Island Lightship	406
The Last Mill in Australia	408
Port Darwin	409
Darnley Island; the Shore	413
Ditto	416
Curios from Murray Island	420
In the Torres Straits	423
Church on Darnley Island	425
St. Louis, Mauritius	429
Off the Cape	432
St. Helena	435
Longwood, St. Helena	437
Ascension. Green Mountain	439
Sierra Leone	441
Barque Hove-to	443
Pico	444
Bearing up for Shelter	445
Tailpiece.

---

Track Chart	To follow Half-title
Map of India	To face page 72

---

Eventide

FOR MY CHILDREN.

A BRIEF MEMOIR OF THEIR DEAR MOTHER.

My dear Children,—In sorrow and grief I have prepared a sketch of the life and character of your dearly loved mother, whom it has pleased God to call to Himself. Slight and imperfect as it is, it may hereafter help to preserve some tender recollections, which you would not willingly let die.

I shall begin with her childhood. Her mother having died in her infancy, for some years your dear mother lived, a solitary child, at her grandfather's house at Clapham. Here she acquired that love of the country, the farm, and the garden which she retained so keenly to the last. Here she learned to ride; and here, with little guidance from teachers, she had access to a large library, and picked up in a desultory way an extensive knowledge of the best English, French, German, and Italian literature.

After a few years' residence at Clapham, your grandfather moved to Chapel Street, Grosvenor Place, and later to the house which you remember in Charles Street. At this period your mother's education was conducted by her attached and faithful governess, Miss Newton, whom you all know. She attended classes, but otherwise her life must have been even more solitary in London than at Clapham. Her evenings were much devoted to Botany, and by assiduous application she acquired that thorough knowledge of the science which she found so useful later, in describing the profuse and varied vegetation of the tropics.

And now I come to my engagement to your mother. How sweet it is to remember her as she was in those young days; in manners so frank and unaffected, and full of that buoyant spirit which to the end of her life never flagged. She enjoyed with a glad heart every pleasure. She was happy at a ball, happy on her horse, happy on the grouse-moor, devoted to her father, a favourite with all her relatives, and very, very sweet to me. Gladness of heart, thankfulness for every pleasure, a happy disposition to make the best of what Providence has ordered, were her characteristics.

We were married in October 1860. After our marriage we had everything to create—our home, our society, our occupations. We began life at Beauport; and wonderfully did your dear mother adapt herself to wholly unanticipated circumstances. Beauport became a country home for our nearest relations on both sides. As a girl, your mother had been a most loving daughter to her own father. After her marriage she was good and kind to my parents. To my brothers, until they were old enough to form happy homes of their own, she was an affectionate sister.

At the date of our marriage, no definite career had opened out for me. To follow my father's business was not considered expedient, and I had no commanding political influence. In the endeavour to help me to obtain a seat in Parliament, your dear mother displayed a true wife-like devotion. She worked with an energy and earnestness all her own, first at Birkenhead in 1861, and later at Devonport and Sandwich—constituencies which I fought unsuccessfully—and my return for Hastings in 1868 afforded her the more gratification. It had been the custom in the last-named constituency to invite the active assistance of ladies, and especially the wives of the candidates, in canvassing the electors. Your mother readily responded to the call. She soon became popular among the supporters of the Liberal party, and throughout my connection with Hastings she retained the golden opinions which she had so early won. Her nerve, high spirit, and ability, under the fierce ordeal of the petition against my return, have been described in his memoirs by Serjeant Ballantine, who conducted my case. He called your mother as his first witness for the defence, put one or two questions, and then handed her wholly unprepared to the counsel for the petitioners—the present Lord Chancellor. With unflinching fortitude your mother endured a cross-examination lasting for upwards of an hour. Her admirable bearing made a great impression upon the eminent judge (Mr. Justice Blackburn) who tried the case, and won the sympathies of the dense crowd of spectators. I remember how gratefully your mother acknowledged the mercy of Heaven in that crisis of her life. 'I could not have done it unless I had been helped,' were her simple words to me.

Down to the latest election in which I was engaged, your dear mother, in the same spirit of personal devotion to her husband, wrought and laboured in the political cause. I have put her love for me as the prime motive for her efforts in politics; but she had too much intelligence not to form a judgment of her own on public issues. Her sympathies were instinctively on the side of the people, in opposition to the old-fashioned Toryism, so much more in vogue a quarter of a century ago than it is to-day.

In helping me to hold a seat in Parliament, your dear mother was inflicting upon herself a privation very hard to bear. Owning to the rapid changes in all the circumstances of our lives, it was difficult to preserve old associations. In the midst of new environments, to make her way alone was a great strain. It is some consolation to know what happiness I gave when, upon my release from the urgent demands of Parliamentary and official life, I was able to spend much of my time in her dear society. It is sad that this happy change should have come so late.

In addition to the share which she took in my Parliamentary labours, your mother undertook the exclusive management at home. This responsibility was gradually concentrated in her hands, owing to my long service in the House of Commons, combined with exceptionally heavy extra-Parliamentary work, finally culminating in my holding office at the Admiralty for more than five years.

How we shall miss her in everything! specially in the task of arranging in the museum, now near completion, the combined collections of our many journeys! She had so looked forward to being able to bring together these collections in London; one of her objects being to afford instruction and recreation to the members of the Working Men's Clubs, to whom she proposed to give constant facilities of access to the collection.

The same spirit, which made your dear mother my helpmeet in my public life, sustained her, at the sacrifice of every personal predilection, in constant companionship with her husband at sea. She bore the misery of sea-sickness without a murmur or complaint. Fear in storm and tempest she never knew. She made yachting, notwithstanding its drawbacks, a source of pleasure. At Cowes she was always on deck, card in hand, to see the starts in the various matches. At sea she enjoyed the fair breezes, and took a deep interest in estimating the daily run, in which she was generally wonderfully exact. She had a great faculty for seamanship, and knew as well as anybody on board what should be done and what was being done on deck.

The same eager sympathy with every interest and effort of mine led your dear mother to help me as President of the Working Men's Club and Institute Union. She attended the meetings, distributed the prizes, and on one occasion entertained the members and their friends at Normanhurst. Upwards of a thousand came down from London, and were addressed by Lord Houghton and by M. Waddington, the French Ambassador. She also did all she could to encourage the Naval Artillery Volunteers. For years she attended inspections and distributed prizes on board the 'President' and the 'Rainbow.' She was always present at the annual service in Westminster Abbey. She witnessed the first embarkation in a gunboat at Sheerness. She carried through all the commissariat arrangements for the six hundred naval volunteers who were brought together from London, Liverpool, and Bristol for the great review at Windsor, sleeping under canvas for three nights in our encampment, and personally and most efficiently superintending every detail. The men were enthusiastic in their appreciation of her efforts.

The same interest was shown in my naval work. Your dear mother accompanied me frequently in my visits to the dockyard towns at home and abroad, attended naval reviews, and was present at the manœuvres on the coast of Ireland in 1885, and in Milford Haven in 1886. At home and abroad she always aided most cordially my desire to establish kindly relations with the naval profession, among whom she numbered, I am sure, not a few sincere friends. The same spirit of sympathy carried your mother with me on dreary and arduous journeys to Ireland, where she paid several visits to the Lough Swilly estates. She called personally on every tenant, asked them to visit the 'Sunbeam,' treated them most kindly, and won their hearts.

Her reception of the Colonial visitors to England last year, when suffering from severe illness, and the visits to the Colonies, which were the last acts of her life, are the most recent proofs which your dear mother was permitted to give of her genuine sympathy with everything that was intended for the public good. The reception which she met with in Australia afforded gratifying assurances of the wide appreciation of her high-minded exertions on the part of our Colonial friends.

The last day of comparative ease in your mother's life was spent at Darnley Island. You remember the scene: the English missionaries, the native teacher with his congregation assembled around him, the waving cocoa-nuts, the picturesque huts on the beach, the deep blue sea, the glorious sunshine, the beauty and the peace. It was a combination after your mother's heart, which she greatly enjoyed, resting tranquilly under the trees, fanned by the refreshing trade-wind. You will remember her marked kindness of manner in giving encouragement to the missionaries in their work. It was another instance of her broad sympathies.

In attempting to give a description of your dear mother's fine character, I cannot omit her splendid courage. I have referred to it as shown on the sea. You who have followed her with the hounds, as long as she had strength to sit in the saddle, will never forget her pluck and skill. Her courage never failed her. It upheld her undaunted through many illnesses.

And now I turn to that part of the work of her life by which your dear mother is best known to the outer world. Her books were widely read by English-speaking people, and have been translated into the language of nearly every civilised nation. The books grew out of a habit, early adopted when on her travels, of sitting up in bed as soon as she awoke in the morning, in her dressing-jacket, and writing with pencil and paper an unpretending narrative of the previous day's proceedings, to be sent home to her father. The written letter grew into the lithographed journal, and the latter into the printed book, at first prepared for private circulation, and finally, on completion of our voyage round the world, for publication. The favourable reception of the first book was wholly unexpected by the writer. She awoke and found herself famous.

Her popularity as a writer has been won by means the simplest, the purest, and most natural which can be conceived. Not a single unkind or ungenerous thought is to be found in any book of hers. The instruction and knowledge conveyed, if not profound, are useful and interesting to readers of all classes. The choice of topics is always judicious. A bright and happy spirit glows in her pages, and it is this which makes the books attractive to all classes. They were read with pleasure by Prince Bismarck, as he smoked his evening pipe, as well as by girls at school. Letters of acknowledgment used to reach your mother from the bedside of the aged and the sick, from the prairies of America, the backwoods of Canada, and the lonely sheep-stations of Australia. Those grateful letters were the most valued which were received from the cottages of the poor. As old George Herbert sings,

Scorn no man's love, though of a mean degree; Love is a present for a mighty King.

It was natural that your mother, with her eager nature, should be spurred on to renewed efforts by success. She set out on her last journey full of hope and enterprise. In India, in Borneo, in Australia, she was resolved to leave no place unvisited which could by any possibility be reached, and where she was led to believe that objects of interest could be found, to be described to readers who could not share her opportunities of travel. The enlargement of our programme of journeys within the tropics threw a heavy strain on her constitution. In Northern India her health was better than it had been for years, but she fell away after leaving Bombay. Rangoon and Borneo told upon her. She did not become really ill until the day after leaving Borneo, when she was attacked by the malarial fever which infests the river up which she had travelled to the famous bird's-nest caves. She suffered much until we reached the temperate climate of South Australia.

On leaving Brisbane we found ourselves once more in the tropics. Enfeebled by an attack of bronchitis caught at Brisbane, your mother was again seized with malarial fever. On the northern coast of Australia such fevers are prevalent, and our visits to Rockhampton, the Herbert River, Mourilyan, and Thursday Island, where we were detained ten days, were probably far from beneficial. No evil consequence was, however, anticipated; and without undue self-reproach we must bow with submission to the heavy blow which, in the ordering of Providence, has befallen us.

Your dear mother died on the morning of September 14, 1887, and her remains were committed to the deep at sunset on the same day (Lat. 15° 50´ S., Long. 110° 35´ E.) Every member of the ship's company was present to pay the last tribute of love and respect on that sad occasion. Your dear mother died in an effort to carry forward the work which, as she believed, it had pleased God to assign to her.

From your mother's books let us turn to her charities; and first her public charities. You know how she has laboured in the cause of the St. John Ambulance Association, how she has taken every opportunity of urging forward the work in every place which we visited, in the West Indies, in the Shetlands, in London, at Middlesbrough, in Sussex. At all the ports at which we touched on our last cruise she spared no pains to interest people in the work. You heard her deliver her last appeal in the cause at Rockhampton. She spoke under extreme physical difficulty, but with melting pathos. As it was her last speech, so, perhaps, it was her best.

Your mother took up ambulance work at a time when it was little in fashion, because she believed it to be a good cause. By years of hard work, in speech, in letter, by interview, by pamphlet, by personal example and devotion, she spread to multitudes the knowledge of the art of ministering first-aid to the injured. We may rest assured that her exertions have been, under Providence, the means of saving many precious lives. In her last cruise you have seen how, when painful injuries have been received, she has been the first to staunch the bleeding wound, facing trying scenes with a courage which never faltered while there was need for it, but which, as the reaction which followed too surely told, put a severe strain upon her feeble frame.

Many could tell, in terms of deepest gratitude, what a true angel from heaven your dear mother had been to them in their hours of sickness. You will readily recall some of the most striking occasions.

That your mother accomplished what she did is the more to be admired when account is taken of the feeble condition of her health and of her many serious illnesses. She inherited weakness of the chest from her mother, who died of decline in early life. When on the point of first going out into society, she was fearfully burned, and lay for six months wrapped in cotton-wool, unable to feed herself. In the early years of our married life we were frequently driven away in the winter to seek a cure for severe attacks of bronchitis. In 1869 your mother caught a malarial fever while passing through the Suez Canal. She rode through Syria in terrible suffering. There was a temporary rally, followed by a relapse, at Alexandria. From Alexandria we went to Malta, where she remained for weeks in imminent danger. She never fully recovered from this, the first of her severe illnesses, and in 1880 she had a recurrence of fever at Algiers. It was followed by other similar attacks—at Cowes in 1882, in the West Indies in 1883, at Gibraltar in 1886, and on her last voyage, first at Borneo, and finally, and with the results we so bitterly lament, on the coast of Northern Queensland. Only indomitable courage could have carried your mother through so much illness and left her mental energies wholly unimpaired, long after her physical frame had become permanently enfeebled. Loss of health compelled her to withdraw in great measure from general society. She was unequal to the demands of London life, and from the same cause was unable to remain in England during the winter. Thus she gradually lost touch of relatives and friends of former years, for whom she had a genuine regard. In such society as she was able to see at the close of her too short life, she never failed to win regard and sympathy. There will be many sad hearts in Australia when the tidings of your mother's death reaches the latest friends whom she was privileged to win.

The truest testimony to your mother's worth is to be found in the painful void created in the home circle by her death. For me the loss must be irreparable. It would, indeed, be more than we could bear, if we had no hope for the future. We cling to that hope; and whatever our hand findeth to do, we must, like her, try to do it with all our might.

Such then was your dear mother: a constant worker, working it may be beyond her strength, yet according to the light which God had given her, and in the noblest causes. Your mother was always doing good to those from whom she had no hope to receive. She did not do her alms before men: not those at least which cost her most in time and in thought. When she prayed, she entered into her closet and shut the door, and, without vain repetition, presented her heart's desire in language most simple before the Father in Heaven. Her life was passed in the spirit of the Apostle's exhortation: 'Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another.'

In the last prayer which she was able to articulate with me, your mother besought the blessing of Heaven upon us both, praying that she might yet be spared to be a comfort to me and all around her. In that prayer was embodied the central aim of her existence. Her praise to God was sung in her work of practical good. Her psalm was the generous sacrifice of self to works which she believed would be for the advantage of others. This thoughtfulness was shown in the most beautiful way, when the last sad call had come. When, in reply to her touching inquiry, 'Is it quite hopeless?' the answer gave no encouragement to hope, you will not forget the tenderness, the unfaltering fortitude, with which she bestowed her blessing, and then proceeded, until articulation was denied, to distribute to each some token of her tender love. She died in perfect charity with all, sweetly submissive to the Divine Will, and consoling her afflicted husband and children to the very last.

Your mother's heart was as large as it was tender. She was devoted, as a wife, to her husband; as a mother, to her children. She was kind to dependents, ever thoughtful for the poor, and there was a large place in her heart for her dumb companions. Her presence will, I am sure, never fade from your recollection; and in all my remembrance of her I can recall no period of her life when her face was so dear to look upon as in the days after leaving Port Darwin. As she lay back on her pillows, a veil of white lace thrown round her head, her eyes so bright, her smiles so loving, not a murmur from her lips nor a shade of unrest on her serene countenance, the peculiar sweetness of her expression seemed a foretaste of the peace of heaven.

I do not recall these things solely as a tribute to the dear one who has passed away from among us, but for your profit and for mine. We have seen how your mother used her opportunities to make the world a little better than she found it. We may each do the same service in our own sphere, and so may best be followers of her good example. In tenderest love may we ever cherish and bless and revere her memory.

My dear children, I might write more. I could never tell you what your mother was to me.

Your very affectionate father,

Brassey.

'Sunbeam,' R.Y.S.: September 1887.

---

PORT SAID COALING-PARTY

---

Evening Prayer

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.

WHEN the arrangements for a contemplated cruise to the East were being considered, towards the end of 1886, it was thought best for Lady Brassey and her daughters to make the voyage to Bombay in a P. & O. steamer. The 'Sunbeam' herself was to sail from Portsmouth by the middle of November. Lord Brassey, in the first paragraph of his 'Sunbeam Papers,' thus acknowledges the help he derived at starting, in what may be called the domestic department of the yacht, from Lady Brassey's presence on board for even a few hours.

'We embarked at Portsmouth on Monday, November 16th. The "Sunbeam" was in hopeless confusion, and it required no ordinary effort of determination and organisation to clear out of harbour on the following day. A few hours at Southampton did wonders in evolving order out of chaos. On the afternoon of November 18th, my wife and eldest daughter, who had come down to help in preparing for sea, returned to the shore, and the "Sunbeam" proceeded immediately down Channel.'

Portsmouth, H.M.S. ‘Hercules’

At Plymouth Lord Brassey was joined by the late Lord Dalhousie and by Mr. Arnold Morley, M.P. The former landed at Gibraltar, and the latter at Algiers. Through the long voyage to Bombay the gallant little yacht held stoutly on her course, meeting first a mistral in the Mediterranean, then strong head-winds in the Red Sea, and having the N.E. monsoon in her teeth after leaving Aden.

Tanks at Aden

In the meantime Lady Brassey, her three daughters, and some friends left England a few days after the yacht had sailed, travelling slowly, with many interesting stopping-places, and not finally reaching Brindisi until December 11th. Thence to Egypt was but a brief voyage, and the one day's rest (!) at Alexandria was devoted, as usual, by Lady Brassey to visits—so minute in their careful examination into existing conditions as to be more an inspection than the cursory call of a passing traveller—to the Soldiers and Sailors' Institute, and also to the Military Hospital at Ramleh. Arrangements had next to be made for the disposal of stores sent out by the Princess of Wales' branch of the National Aid Society; and all this constituted what may fairly be considered a hard day's work. Then came a well-occupied week in Cairo, where much hospital-visiting was again got through, and many interviews respecting the site for the new hospital at Port Said were held with the Egyptian authorities. This pleasant but by no means idle dawdling brought the party to Suez on December 23rd, where they embarked at once on board the P. & O. steamer 'Thames,' Captain Seaton, and started at midnight for Bombay.

Carefully and well had the plans for both voyages been laid, and successfully—by grace of wind and weather—had they been carried out. On January 3rd, 1887, Lord Brassey in the 'Sunbeam' and Lady Brassey in the 'Thames' exchanged cordial signals of greeting off the harbour of Bombay. The incident must be briefly described from the earlier 'Sunbeam Papers' (for of this first portion of the cruise Lady Brassey has unhappily left no notes). 'As we were becalmed off Bombay, waiting for the sea breeze which invariably freshens towards noon, the Peninsular and Oriental Company's steamship "Thames," with my wife and children on board, passed ahead of us into the harbour. We had a delightful meeting in the afternoon at Government House, Malabar Point, where we were greeted with a most cordial welcome from our dear friends Lord and Lady Reay.'

We are so accustomed nowadays to the punctual keeping of appointments made months before, with half the width of the world between the meeting-places, that this happy and fortunate coincidence will scarcely excite remark, even when the home journal dwells on the added joy of the arrival, that very same evening, as planned beforehand, of Lord Brassey's son, who had started earliest, and had been spending some weeks of travel, sight-seeing, and sport, pleasantly combined, in Ceylon and Southern India.

Kurrachee Harbour

The punctuality of the P. & O. steamers might be a proverb, if in these hurried days anyone ever paused to make a proverb; and therefore it is not the rapid run of the 'Thames' which excites our admiration. It is rather the capital sailing qualities, well tried and proven as they are, of the 'Sunbeam.' Though essentially a sailing vessel and carrying very little coal, the yacht had made her way through the intricate navigation of the Red Sea and against the strong contrary winds of the N.E. monsoon, which blew with quite exceptional force off the southern shores of Arabia, and had finally dropped anchor at the appointed day, and almost hour, in Bombay Harbour.

The Mirs Falconer

On this, her first visit, the 'Sunbeam' remained only three days at Bombay. She sailed again for Kurrachee on January 6th, 1887, and reached her destination early on Tuesday, the 11th. The stay in Bombay was cut short by the desire of the travellers to join Lord and Lady Reay, and journey with them for the first few days of an official tour in Sindh, on which the Governor of Bombay was about to start. There are exceptional opportunities in such an excursion for seeing great concourses of natives, and gaining knowledge of the condition of the country from the officials engaged in its administration. The first point of interest noted is a native horse-fair held at Shikarpur, where 'in the immense concourse gathered together, all the races of these wild districts were represented. The most characteristic people were the Beloochees—men of sturdy build, who carry themselves with a bold and manly air. They formerly lived by raids and cattle-lifting, swooping down from the Suleiman Mountains upon the people of the plains, who were seldom able to offer any effectual resistance. We have established order in these once lawless regions by our military force, posted at Jacobabad.'

Bokhara Man

From the brief notes of this earlier part of the journey, which follow, it is evident that the travellers had semi-official receptions of their own at nearly every large station. Addresses of cordial welcome were presented; replies had to be made; and it is perhaps from these causes of added fatigue and excitement that Lady Brassey was unable to do more than jot down the events of each day.

Lord and Lady Brassey and their family travelled together through Sindh, along the north-west frontier of India to Lahore, Peshawur, and the Khyber Pass; and Lord Brassey gratefully notes in the first number of 'Sunbeam Papers' that his wife's health in Northern India was better than it had been for years.

Going to Dinner

A fresh start on the return journey to Bombay was made from Lahore on January 21st, viâ Patiala, whose Maharajah, young as he is, carries on the practice of sumptuous welcome and entertainment of English travellers which forms part of the historic traditions of the loyal rulers of the state. Agra was reached on January 30th, and at this point, after a brief delay, the party separated, Lord Brassey retracing his steps to Kurrachee to take the yacht back to Bombay. The rest came round by Cawnpore and Lucknow, Benares, Jubbulpore, and Poonah, and so on to Hyderabad, their farthest inland point, where Lady Brassey's more elaborated diary commences.

Our Home on Wheels

The whole of this long journey of 4,500 miles was made in thirty-six days, and with the exception of the two nights at the Maharajah's palace at Patiala, the railway train was the only sleeping-place of the travellers, who were eleven in number. Halts and stoppages were made in the day-time to admit of local sight-seeing and excursions. Lady Brassey, in a private letter, declared this plan of travel to be delightful and thoroughly comfortable; and it will be seen that Hyderabad was reached not only with comfort but with renovated health, and with the full enthusiasm of travel and ardour of enjoyment strong in the breast of the well-known diarist, whose last journals, faithfully kept when once commenced, are now before us.

---

Jubilee Illuminations, Bombay

JOURNAL.

CHAPTER I.

BOMBAY TO JUBBULPORE.

Thursday, January 6th.—Left Bombay harbour at 2 a.m. and proceeded to sea under steam. Rather rolly. Very busy all day unpacking and arranging things. As nearly everybody was more or less overcome, I felt that I must make an effort. Small party at meals. State of things improved towards evening.

Friday, January 7th.—On deck at 5 a.m. Shifty breeze. Tacking all day. Busy unpacking and repacking, and trying to get things straight. Towards evening the invalids began to pick up a little and to appear on deck.

At noon we were off Verawal, having run 135 miles since yesterday. Distance from Kurrachee, 310 miles.

Saturday, January 8th.—On deck at 5 a.m. Pleasant breeze, but not favourable. Several dhows in sight near the land. At eight o'clock a dead calm and very hot. At noon a sea-breeze, fair; at five o'clock a land-breeze, foul. Steam up at 11 p.m.

Sunday, January 9th.—A flat calm at 4.30 a.m. The 'Southern Cross' and 'Great Bear' bright in the heavens. The moon set with curious 'horse's-tail' effects. At noon we were off Kori, or Lakhpat. At 10 p.m. heavy squall from N.E. came on, accompanied by a downpour of rain.

Crossing the Indus

Monday, January 10th.—Made Kurrachee Light soon after midnight. Entered the harbour at daybreak, very cold on deck. Soon after we had anchored, Mr. Dashtar, one of the Parsee cricketers, came on board with bouquets of flowers for all of us. After much settling, and packing, and engaging new servants, we breakfasted; and then, having landed, proceeded to see something of Kurrachee City, the alligator-tank, and the cantonment. Engaged additional horses for a longer expedition, in the course of which our carriage stuck in the sand as we tried to cross one of the many shallow mouths of the Indus. Muriel and I refused to quit the carriage, and managed to get over. The rest of the party waded across. Returned on board yacht, and later on proceeded in the steam-launch with Captain Parker to the lighthouse. Landed again at the pier in the evening, and started on our long inland journey in the special train which had been provided for us. Excellent dinner in train. Comfortable night.

Shikarpur Bazaar

Tuesday, January 11th.—Blue glass in carriage windows made the landscape look as if covered with snow. Stopped for baths and refreshments at one of the stations en route. Breakfasted later in train. Passed through a dreary country, a saltpetre desert, relieved by occasional scrubby trees. Interesting people at wayside stations—Sindhis, Beloochees, Afghans, Persians, and others.

Reached Shikarpur at two o'clock. Met by Colonel Mayhew, Mr. Ralli, and Colonel Lyttelton. Drove to Commissioner's residence. Colonel Mayhew took us to the fair, and to see the wrestling; then to the bazaars. Wonderful concourse of people. Bought carpets and silks. Entertained friends at tea 'on board' train. Dined with Mr. Erskine.

Wednesday, January 12th.—Very wet night. Breakfasted early. Drove to the Residency, where the fires were most acceptable. Lady Reay's room partly washed away in night, being in what is appropriately called a melting-house. To the camp of the Amir, a courteous old man with five sons. A scene to be remembered. Saw fighting-rams, cocks, and partridges. Lunched at station, where we met Tom and children. Afterwards to the great Shikarpur horse-fair and prize-giving. Interesting sight, but bitterly cold air.

Sukhur Bridge, Indus

Thursday, January 13th.—Amir sent seven camels, beautifully caparisoned, to take us to his camp. Drove through bazaars. Most graciously received at camp, but luckily escaped refreshment. Thence to the Commissioner's house. Deputation of judges of show and principal Sindhi, Hindoo, Mahomedan, and other inhabitants, bringing fruit, flowers, and sweetmeats. Left at twelve o'clock in Governor's train for Sukhur Bridge. Proceeded in steamer up the Indus past Rohri. Town gaily decorated. Saw canal and irrigation works. Hard work going up stream, easy coming down again, as is often the case. It is said that a voyage of ten days in one direction often occupies three weeks in the other. Strolled through town of Sukhur. Picturesque illuminations in the evening. Returned to our yacht on wheels at ten o'clock, thoroughly tired.

Old Sukhur

Friday, January 14th.—Called at seven. Very cold. Breakfasted with the Brackenburys. Good-bye to our dear Bombay friends. Drove round the town, and then with Tom and Tab to Old Sukhur and the bazaars. The Governor and Lady Reay left at noon for Sindh. We proceeded by water to Rohri. Train crosses the river in boats; picturesque scene—camels, boats, train, volunteers, and natives. Much plagued by flies. Telegraphed for dinner at the station at Ritti. Very cold night indeed. Could not sleep after two o'clock. Water froze in bottles.

Saturday, January 15th.—Crossed Empress Bridge over Sutlej. Reached Mooltan at 6 a.m.p.m.