anchor down
the steep beach, and drifted out.

The town of Monado is built on a plain surrounded by mountains, the
highest of which, Klabat, is 6000 feet above the level of the sea. The
houses are well built, and neatly thatched; they are all detached, and
enclosed in a yard or garden. The roads are excellent, and reflect great
credit upon a Prussian engineer, who undertook the task. The fort, which
is at the water's edge, is small, but strongly built, and well adapted
to resist the attack of any native force, although I should imagine it
could not hold out any time against the well-directed fire of a
frigate's broadside. A party of us enjoyed a pleasant ramble through the
town and suburbs, which are dotted with neat cottages, where their
owners invited us to enter and partake of refreshments. We went into
several, and found them scrupulously neat and clean, as Dutch houses
usually are. The people who entertained us refused all compensation, and
it was with difficulty that we prevailed upon the black-eyed damsels to
accept our silk handkerchiefs by way of reminiscences. Very few
Europeans reside here, although their half-bred offspring may be seen in
every tenth person, and they boast of the European blood which flows in
their veins. Monado abounds with poultry, fruit, vegetables, and all the
necessaries of life. Cocoa and sugar are cultivated. Stock is easily
obtained, and very moderate; and water is procured from a small river
which divides the town. Boats should enter the river at last quarter
flood, and return first quarter ebb, as the tide falls rapidly; and at
low water the bar at the entrance is dry. During our stay we surveyed
the major portion of the bay, finding nothing under 150 fathoms of water
at one-third of a mile from the shore.

We found here a Mr. Hart, who had been left at this place in consequence
of his precarious state, from a gun-shot wound he had received on the
Coti River (Borneo). Mr. Hart was a volunteer in the ill-fated
expedition undertaken by Mr. Murray, who attempted to establish a
colony in the Coti River, and who lost his life in an encounter with the
natives. The vessels employed--a brig and a schooner--were fitting out
at Hong Kong while we were there. We fell in with the schooner (the
Young Queen) the day after we left Manilla. The captain of her came on
board to give us the intelligence of the failure of the expedition, with
the death of its leader. Misfortune appeared to cling to