e Wakwalla Gardens at Galle, to
drink cocoa-nut milk and admire the first glimpse of tropical
scenery. Suffice it to say, that on the 15th of May we arrived at
Singapore, after a singularly quick passage from Marseilles. Bidding
adieu to our fellow-passengers, including "the inevitable," who of
course recommended us to the best hotel in the place (though I very
much doubted his ever having been there before), we entered a little
red box on wheels drawn by a Java pony, which is designated a
"gharry," and drove to Emmerson's Hotel, near the Esplanade. This was
reached after a drive of four miles under a blazing sun, and we were
not sorry to find ourselves located in two good bed-rooms, which felt
delightfully cool and airy after our comparatively close cabin on
board. After a cold bath, doubly enjoyable by its contrast with the
lukewarm sea-water we had been accustomed to during the voyage, it was
not long ere we were doing justice to an excellent breakfast under the
cool swing of the punkah.

Singapore is an island 27 miles long by 14 broad, and is divided from
the main land, or Malay peninsula, by a narrow strait of
three-quarters of a mile broad. The town consists of about 70,000
inhabitants, comprising Europeans, Indians, Chinese, and Malays, the
two latter forming the bulk of the population. It is well laid out,
and from the sea presents a very picturesque appearance. The
neighbourhood is slightly undulating and well wooded, and the country
around studded with well-built and substantial houses, belonging to
the European merchants and other officials in Singapore. No Europeans
live in the town, as the heat there during the south-west and even
north-east monsoon is insupportable. The Esplanade, which faces the
sea, and near to which our hotel stood, is the fashionable drive, and
where the inhabitants enjoy the sea-breezes when the heat of the day
is over. The horses and carriages here, however, were a sorry sight,
the former being nearly without exception cast-offs from Australia,
and sent here as a last resource. The carriages, too, were fearfully
and wonderfully made contrivances, and would have caused the
inhabitants of Long Acre to shudder, could they have seen them.

The view of the roadstead from the Esplanade is very striking, and is
generally alive with shipping of all kinds and nations, from the smart
and trim British man-of-war to the grimy collier, and from the rakish
Malay prahu to the clumsy junk laden w