ements in our tongue.

Our first day at Singapore was marked by a sad termination. Emanuel
Dewdney, one of our boys, a weakly lad and far too delicate for the
rough life he had adopted, died of heat apoplexy in the afternoon.

Though Singapore lies so near the equator--within two degrees of it in
fact--it enjoys a very healthy, though, of course, a very hot climate.
The town itself is not very extensive. There is the usual native Malay
division with its system of mud architecture, its dirt and smells; and
that of the European residents--a marked contrast to the irregular
jumble of the other. I don't know that there is particularly much to see
in the island, except, perhaps, the Botanical Gardens, whose beauties
will amply repay you for the rather long walk to reach them. You may
take a coach if you like, but that will spoil the pleasure. In these
gardens all the choicest and rarest flora, and much of the fauna, of the
East Indies, are brought together and acclimatized. The most conspicuous
amongst the former, and certainly the most lovely--and that is saying
much where all excel--is a species of acacia, a large tree with great
flaming scarlet and yellow flowers. Then there is that extremely
interesting and singularly funny creeper, the sensitive plant, which, on
the approach of anybody, has the power of doubling up its leaves as if
in sudden fear. Birds in great variety--all scarlet, gold, and
azure--inhabit spacious aviaries within the grounds. Lyre birds, argus
pheasants, great eagles, and owls from Java, doves, pigeons, lories, and
humming birds, the metallic lustre of whose plumage flashes in the light
like the sheen of steel. One or two tigers--in a cage, of course--invite
our curiosity. I was not, however, prepared to make quite so close an
acquaintance with these lovely supple creatures, as one of the marines
of our party, who, having indulged too freely in malt, possibly mistook
the animals for cats, the result being he got so damaged about the bows
as to be rendered unfit for divisions the following morning, and barely
escaped with his eyesight. Drink makes a man do queer things.

The native men are very picturesquely apparelled in gaily coloured
turbans and sarongs, whilst the women,--tall, graceful, and
pretty--convey a small fortune about with them, in the shape of
jewellery, in the cartilage of the nose, in the ears, and around the
arms and legs. I saw one woman who had such heavy masses of gold in her
ea