contains the graves of the many persons who have suffered shipwreck on this coast. Two years ago, some vessels with troops from England stranded here, on board of which were several officers with their families, and above 500 men, few of whom could be saved. It was a heartrending moment to the seamen and spectators on shore, to see the despair of the people on the wreck struggling with the waves, without being able to render them the slightest assistance. I was told that in June 1837 the monsoon set in with such violence that most of the vessels in the harbours were dismasted. The prospect from the lighthouse towards Malabar Point is most beautiful: in other directions the objects lie too scattered to be comprehended in one view. Between the buryingplace, to which I have before alluded, and the walls of the lighthouse, innumerable serpents have their

retreat.

On the 14th of August we commenced our journey to Poonah: at 11 o'clock we went on board what is called a Banderboat, which had a small cabin, with a crew of five Mussulmans, a steersman, and four rowers. We expected to be able, by the aid of wind and tide, to reach the village of Panwelly, above thirty miles distant, in eight hours; but we had scarcely sailed a league beyond Elephanta, when we were driven between Butcher's Island and Salsette, where the wind gradually abated, and we were obliged to have recourse to our oårs. A monotonous singing, and the Gurguru, or pipe producing a guttural sort of sound, passing from mouth to mouth, broken by the exhortations of the steersman, animated our indolent crew: but our misadventures had retarded us so much, that we were obliged to cast anchor at eight o'clock at

the mouth of the Panwell river, where we waited for the next tide, with which we reached the Mole at four o'clock in the morning. We found our one-horse buggy waiting for us at a bungalow near the bank; and we drove along an excellent road, made by Mountstuart Elphinstone, through the neat and cheerful village of Panwell. As soon as we had passed the village, we entered a richly cultivated valley, between the most luxuriant rice fields, and at our side and in the background rose the picturesque, singularly formed chain of the Ghauts. A dingy funnel-shaped mountain, which rises like the chimney of a forge from the centre of a table mountain, in wild, jagged masses, forms a most strange contrast with the bright verdure of the foliage and meadows. This striking object is surrounded by ragged masses of rock, which tower majestically above the large-leaved teak-tree, and appear from a distance exactly like ruins of ancient castles. They rise about 3000 feet above the level of the sea. We saw scarcely a bird, excepting some green parrots and the dazzling white, long-legged Paddy bird (Ardea), which was seeking its food in the rice plantations. The inhabitants were ranged round the fire in their wretched clay huts, or walking in the fields covered with a mat of palm-leaves, which runs to a point above their heads, and hanging down over their shoulders, serves as a protection against the rain. Every now and then we met long trains of amplyladen Hackeries drawn by oxen carrying sacks. The creaking of the wheels of these clumsy and heavilybuilt Hackeries, or farmer's waggons, is heard at some distance. These wheels are made either of a solid piece of wood, or have eight spokes, two and two, placed close to each other, and traverse the axle-tree

nearly at right angles. The Hackeries are used by the farmers to bring home their harvest, and to carry their productions to market. In those districts, where manure is employed in tillage, a basket is hung on the Hackery to convey it to the fields. We also occasionally met Brinjares, driving oxen, carrying sacks of corn upon their backs.

After proceeding nine miles, we reached our first stage close to a hideous Maharatta idol hewn in stone, and painted red. Here the road rises more and more, the eminences are more thickly wooded, and the valley gradually closes in at the village of Kampuly, at the side of which stands an ancient temple, dedicated to Mahadeo (the God of Death), surrounded by a large walled tank. From this place, the road leads in many windings up the Kandalla pass to the village of Kandalla or Kindalla, which is about 3000 feet above the level of the sea. Here we left our buggy, which was drawn up by men while we were carried to the summit in palanquins. The morning was delightfully cool, and the sun from time to time darted his beams through the breaking clouds: the scenery which surrounded me was luxuriant in the highest degree, and the flowery carpet of the mountain parterres lay before me in such freshness and beauty, that I found it impossible to remain any longer in my palanquin, borne on the shoulders of men. At one point of view we suddenly overlooked the whole of the valley through which we had just passed. On one side ten beautiful waterfalls, the largest of which, the Calliani, is about 1400 feet high, - rushed down over ledges, and broken masses of rock presented a most magnificent sight which can be enjoyed only in the rainy season; while at the bottom,

deep down in the valley, lies Kampuly with its solitary temple. Turning to the other side, the chain of the Ghauts, running towards the south, and the distant wide-spread ocean, lay before us. At this moment "a solemn silence and sublime repose" reigned over the whole landscape; as if all nature was rapt in mute adoration before God.

We breakfasted with a Parsee in a bungalow at Kandalla, a little village built on the top of the Ghauts, on the most picturesque points of which stand several country houses, belonging to British officers. From. hence the road gradually declines, and passes over a table land from 3000 to 4000 paces broad; the eminences at either side assume more and more an undulating character, retire to a greater distance in the vicinity of Poonah, and at length appear only in isolated masses. We found post-horses ready at every ten miles; but, as we were unfortunately obliged to reach Poonah the same day, we were forced to defer our intended excursion to the celebrated cave-temples of Carli. We did not arrive at our destination till 9 o'clock in the evening, when I was welcomed in the kindest manner in the bungalow of Captain St. Clair.

Poonah, the former residence of the Peishwa, or supreme Rajah of the Maharattas, lies on an extensive bare plateau, about 2000 feet above the sea, surrounded by strangely formed trap mountains, on the rocky summits of which are scattered ruined castles of the Maharattas. On account of the salubrity of the climate, Poonah is one of the chief stations of the British. Five thousand men were garrisoned here at this time, and Sir Thomas M'Mahon, general-in-chief, and Sir George Arthur, Governor of Bombay, were also at Poonah. The city, which in the height of its