the ship and the spar towing astern. In column 3, the number 4 denotes a moderate breeze, and 5 a fresh breeze.)

Oceanic birds were plentiful in our wake, and gradually dropped off as we approached the tropic. On May 2 the vicinity of land was denoted by the appearance of four tropic birds (Phaeton aethereus) and a tern; and next evening, shortly before sunset, we sighted the Island of Mauritius, the Bamboo Mountain at Grand Port being the first part seen. We rapidly closed in with the land, and during the night were near enough to see the surf on the coral reefs fringing the shore, it assuming the appearance, in the bright moonshine, of a sandy beach of glittering whiteness.

Captain Stanley remarks, that "The reef on the east side of the island projects further than is laid down on the Admiralty chart, and as from the prevalence of the south-east trade a current is constantly setting to the westward, vessels approaching this part of the island should be very cautious, even with a leading wind, not to get too close in with the land until the passage between Gunner's and Round Island is well under the lee. At night, also, the distance from the land, when off the north-east end of the island, is very deceiving, as the plains of Pamplemousses are very low. The Rattlesnake, in passing at night between the Gunner's Quoin and Flat Island, experienced a strong set of nearly three miles an hour to the westward, which at times is said to be much stronger, and partakes in some measure of the nature of the tide."

ARRIVE AT MAURITIUS.

May 4th.

When I came upon deck I found that we had rounded the north end of the island, and were beating up for Port Louis. It was a delightful morning, with bright sunshine, smooth water, a gentle trade wind, and an unclouded sky. The view was very beautiful, and quite equalled my expectations, based, though they were, upon the glowing descriptions of La Pierre. The extremes of the island are low, but the centre is occupied by the partially wooded crest-like ridge, rugged and pinnacled, connecting La Pouce with the famous Peter Botte. Viewed in a mass, the country looked burnt up, of a dull yellowish red hue--the higher hills were dark green, and the lower grounds partially so. To the left was the fertile plain of Pamplemousses, even now, in the beginning of winter, one mass of green of various degrees of intensity. As we approached we began to make out more distinctly the sugar plantations, the groves of coconut trees and casuarinas, the features of the town, and the dense mass of shipping in the harbour. We hove to off the Bell Buoy (denoting the outer anchorage) for the steamer which towed us to our berth abreast of Cooper's Island.

PORT LOUIS.

The harbour of Port Louis is of singular formation. It is entered by a narrow passage or break in the coral reef surrounding the island, leading into a large basin, the central portion only of which has sufficient water for shipping. The bottom is mud, which, they say, is fast accumulating, especially in a small bight called the Trou Fanfaron, where a few years ago a line-of-battle ship could float, but which has now scarcely water enough for a large corvette. The reefs about the entrance are nearly dry at low-water, at which time one may wade to their outer margin, as is daily practised by hundreds of fishermen.

Passing through the closely packed lines of shipping, and landing as a stranger at Port Louis, perhaps the first thing to engage attention is the strange mixture of nations--representatives, he might at first be inclined to imagine, of half the countries of the earth. He stares at a Coolie from Madras with a breech-cloth and soldier's jacket, or a stately, bearded Moor, striking a bargain with a Parsee merchant; a Chinaman, with two bundles slung on a bamboo, hurries past, jostling a group of young Creole exquisites smoking their cheroots at a corner, and talking of last night's Norma, or the programme of the evening's performance at the Hippodrome in the Champ de Mars; his eye next catches a couple of sailors reeling out of a grog-shop, to the amusement of a group of laughing negresses in white muslin dresses of the latest Parisian fashion, contrasting strongly with a modestly attired Cingalese woman, and an Indian ayah with her young charge. Amidst all this the French language prevails; everything more or less pertains of the French character, and an Englishman can scarcely believe that he is in one of the colonies of his own country.

VISIT TO PAMPLEMOUSSES.

May 16th.

Few passing visitors, like ourselves, leave the Isle of France without performing a pilgrimage to Pamplemousses, a pretty village seven miles distant, near which are the (so-called) tombs of Paul and Virginia, and the Botanic Gardens. For this purpose--as we sail the day after tomorrow, I started at daylight. The road, even at this early hour, was crowded with people--Coolies, Chinamen, Negroes, and others, bringing in their produce to market, while every now and then a carriage passed by filled with well-dressed Creoles enjoying the coolness of the morning air, or bent upon making a holiday of it, for the day was Sunday. I breakfasted in one of the numerous cabarets by the roadside, dignified with the name of Hotel de ----, etc. Numerous small streams crossed the road, and the country, so far as seen, exhibited a refreshing greenness and richness of vegetation.

Les Tombeaux are situated in a garden surrounded by trees, and a grove of coffee plants, behind the residence of a gentleman who must be heartily sick of being so constantly disturbed by strangers. They exhibit nothing more remarkable than two dilapidated monumental urns on opposite sides of the garden, shaded by a clump of bamboos and casuarinas, the latter usually mistaken for cypresses. In the coffee plantation close by, I was delighted to find great numbers of a large and handsome land shell, Achatina mauritiana--it burrows in the earth during dry weather, but some rain which had fallen during the night brought it out in abundance.

BOTANICAL GARDENS.

The Botanical Gardens are close to the church. Among the plants are some magnificent sago palms, almost rivalling those I had seen in New Guinea, during the voyage of the Fly,* and many clove and nutmeg trees, the cultivation of which in the island it had been the intention of Government to introduce. Here are some very fine shady walks with ponds of water and rivulets, but although these cool retreats are admirably adapted for solitary rambles and the holding of merry picnic parties, I found with regret that the title of botanical had misled me.

On my return I was not surprised to see in an island colonised by the French--so little outward respect paid to the Sabbath. Many people were at work in the fields, and washerwomen in the streams--a party of Chinamen were employed roofing a house, and blacksmiths hammered away within gun-shot of the church, while many of the shops and all the taverns were open in the villages.

(*Footnote. Narrative of the Surveying Voyage of H.M.S. Fly in Torres Strait, New Guinea, and other Islands of the Asiatic Archipelago by J. Beete Jukes.)