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 LETTER TWENTY-THREE.

September 22nd, 1840.

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My letter of 1st May gave you but a gloomy account of Australia. I have some tiling to say now a little more cheering, though I could not at present muster courage to persuade any of my friends in England to think of emigrating.

I am now in a situation which promises not only to provide me comfortable bread, but to enable me to save a little money. You have doubtless heard of such gentlemen as Custom House officers, whose business it is to catch smugglers, seize contraband goods, etc. Your humble servant is now one of these. I spend most of my time on board ships, where I have a good deal of leisure to write poetry—I have

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