corner with the most lovely specimens, arranged
in perfect order, so that the boat looks as if it
were a floating cabinet. The diving-boys are
of all ages, from seven to seventeen. Some
paddle themselves singly in tiny canoes little
larger than a butcher's tray; others go three or
four together in larger skiffs; but all are equally
eager, crowding under the gangways and keeping
up an incessant gabble in broken English
to attract attention. "Massa, massa, massa!
now, massa! I dive very good, massa! You
throw sixpence, I dive very quick— good dive,
massa!"  When a sixpence is pitched overboard,
the whole mob of them throw themselves
out of their canoes headlong in, and their
sprawling limbs may be discerned far down as
they strike towards the bottom, till a lucky
fellow clutches the prize, when they all return
to the surface puffing and blowing, and scramble
into their respective canoes, where they are
soon ready for another dive. This feat of
catching the sixpence is by no means so difficult
as a stranger might imagine. In the first place,
the sixpence, or any similar flat thin object,
when thrown into the water, descends by
gyrations, as a parachute would fall through the
air, and therefore settles so slowly to the bottom,
that a moderately expert swimmer can meet
and grasp it.

In the mean time, the wharf begins to fill
with a heterogeneous crowd of Malays, Coringamen,
Chinese, Surutties, Eurasians, and Europeans,
and little palanquin carriages drive up
for hire. These are most useful vehicles,
exceedingly light, but strong, holding two, and, at
a pinch, four people, and drawn by one of the
indomitable little Burmah ponies up the heaviest
and toughest road. They are driven by half-
naked Madras men, who perch on a small seat
placed on the front of the carriage, and, never
understanding a syllable that is said to them,
goad, poke, and worry the pony on till brought
up by the shouts of the passengers. The
carriages are all numbered, and their owners
and drivers subject to strict rules. A schedule
of fares is hung up inside.

After landing from the ship, and elbowing his
way among vendors of paradise birds' skins,
China and Indian fans, Bombay workboxes, &c.,
the traveller is taken by the indefatigable diving-
boys, who strive to earn a sixpence on land as
well as in the water, to one of the palanquin
carriages or "gárees" aforesaid, and driven off to
the town, which is nearly two miles from the
wharf. The road, which is good, leads at first
through a mangrove swamp, above which,
however, it is well raised. A little further on it
rises, where pretty cottages and suburban villas,
with neat hedges and gardens, and a large
Chinese burial-ground, indicate close approach
to the town. Singapore is substantially built,
laid out in regular streets, and consists almost
wholly of Chinamen's shops. There is a good
iron suspension-bridge over an inlet or creek in
the town, a pretty though small square, planted
with flowering shrubs and shady trees, and some
handsome brick and stuccoed houses bordering
the strand, or drive, along the beach of the outer
harbour, which, with its dark blue waves, is
seen outside the town, crowded with vessels of
every size, class, and nation. This strand road
is bordered inland by a strip of lawn, planted
with flowering shrubs, forming a pleasant
promenade and playground for children. The
lawn is again skirted by a road bounding a
series of gardens and enclosures, in which are
contained a line of detached and handsome
houses, including a good church. These buildings,
embowered in trees, sweep round along
the curve of the harbour, and are ended by
Government House, an imposing edifice in
beautiful grounds, crowning the end of the high land,
which in gentle undulations encircles the
landward side of the town. The homes of the
merchants, government officers, and private
individuals, are scattered all round the suburbs, in
fine airy situations. The grounds and gardens
are exceedingly tasteful, and kept in admirable
order; and the roads, shaded by neat hedges of
the China or dwarf bamboo, and trees of elegant
and varied foliage, are kept carefully in the best
repair. A large body of life convicts, some three
thousand in number, enables the municipality to
preserve the communications throughout the
station in thorough order. About a mile and a
half's drive along this pleasant suburb brings the
visitor to the public gardens, which, though
new, are already beautiful, and only need the
ripening of time to make them still more so.
To any one who has been long resident in India,
the exquisite neatness of the lawns and paths is
a new and welcome sight, and, although there
are very few flowers in the Singapore gardens
which are not cultivated in Bengal, here they
are larger and more brilliant, so that the Singapore
gardens are more beautiful than those of
Calcutta. Amongst the houses facing the outer
harbour, which command a full view of it, and
all day enjoy the refreshing breeze of the sea, is
a very comfortable Family Hotel, kept by an
enterprising Frenchman. The "compound" of
the hotel contains a detached building for
bachelors on one side, and another for the table
d'hôte in the opposite quarter. This hotel
appears to fill well. The passenger-traffic between
Europe and the south-eastern archipelago
is rapidly increasing, and English, French,
Dutch, and Portuguese from and to Batavia,
Borneo, Manilla, and Sumatra, have to wait at
Singapore for the smaller steamers to convey
them to their destinations, or for the large
Peninsular and Oriental and Imperial Messagerie
ships from Hong-Kong, as the case may be.
Besides these, numerous young clerks and
assistants in counting-houses take up their
permanent abode in the hotel, and help to increase
the crowd at the table d'hôte, which is capable
of accommodating about sixty. The fare is
good, and served in a style half French and
half English. About twenty Chinese lads, clean
and well dressed, fly about, serving the dinner
with great briskness, while the master of the
hotel stands at a side-table with a couple of
assistants, carving for his customers. Fish (in