My dear Fox.—

I am going to take you at your word, & send you a very short letter sooner than none.— It may appear very odd to you, but I never found so much difficulty in writing letters, as at present.—

There is so much to say, or might be said, that I am quite overwhelmed & generally finish by saying very little.— After leaving Rio de Janeiro, we sailed to M: Video.—from whence we had a surveying cruize to the South.— (at Rio I wrote to you).— All this part of S America is wonderfully stupid; sand hillocks & undulating plains makes a poor change after mountains & vallies glowing with the rich vegetation of the Tropics.— At M: Video we had not heard from anybody for four month: & as you may suppose, like a Vulture I devoured yours & other letters. I was very sorry, my dear old Fox, to hear from yourself & home, that you had been so unwell; I trust that when you receive this you will be sitting, well & cheerful, by a blazing fireside.— Eheu Eheu how long will it be before I enjoy that pleasure.— In about a weeks time, we sail down the coast for the Falkland islands & then for Cape Horn. I suspect there will be some difference between this & an English fire side: it would all be very tolerable, if there was some moderate limit steadily to look forward to.— But the Captains plans enlarge as the time advances, & I see no end to the voyage.— We return from Cape Horn & winter in the Plata; from thence we go to the other side & coast up to Panama, & then our voyage may be said again to commence.—

During these last month, the only source of enjoyment, & it has been a large one, has been from Nat: History.— I have principally been lucky in Geology & amongst pelagic animals.— An old piece of ambition of mine has been gratified, viz finding the remains of large extinct animals I think some of them are new; I have teeth & fragments of about 7 kinds. Even this does not reconcile me to leaving the golden regions of ye Tropics.— My peep at these climates has quite spoiled me for any other; I must however except the English autumnal day, the clearness of the atmosphere of which will stand comparison with anything.— Poor dear old England. I hope my wanderings will not unfit me for a quiet life, & that in some future day, I may be fortunate enough to be qualified to become, like you a country Clergyman. And then we will work together at Nat. History, & I will tell such prodigious stories, as no Baron Monchausen ever did before.— But the Captain says if I indulge in such visions, as green fields & nice little wives &c &c, I shall certainly make a bolt.— So that I must remain contented with sandy plains & great Megatheriums:—

At this present moment we are beating against a dead foul wind, on our return from B. Ayres to M Video.— Buenos Ayres is a fine large city & has an Europæan appearance, with the exception of a few wild Gauchos, with their bright coloured ponchos, riding through the streets.— Do you know Heads book? it gives an excellent account of the manners of this country.—

I hope you will write to me again: & recollect that all details about yourself gain in interest instead of losing from the distance: S. America, by itself will be the best direction for the Beagle: I shall be very busy next week in packing specimens. Henslow most kindly has undertaken to receive them. It is one more to the many many obligations I owe to him.— I always consider it one of the luckiest days in my life, when you introduced me to him.— The friendship of such a man, is indeed worth gaining:— Good bye, dear Fox. God bless you & keep you as happy, as you deserve to be, & Write to me again.

Yours very affectionately, Chas Darwin.—