The night of the 26th of November was very dark and rainy; and as we were nearing the port of St. Paul de Loando there was a constant heaving of the lead, and ringing of the bell for the engine to be put at half speed, until after midnight; when, not having any pilot, and it not being sufficiently light to admit of steaming into the bay with safety, we laid to. At eight bells, the daylight beginning to appear, we were again on the move, with the shores of Western Africa in full view; and before breakfast, turning a high, sandy bluff, entered and anchored within the harbor. We were directly boarded by our Consul, Mr. Cunningham, and some Portuguese officials; the former of whom remained to breakfast with us, and was evidently pleased at our arrival. He is a New Englander, and has lived here, altogether, nine years; having visited the United States only once during that period. From him we learned many interesting particulars in regard to this colony and its inhabitants; but a life here must be disagreeable and solitary in the extreme, for an Anglo-Saxon, and we only wonder how any of our race can ever become accustomed to the fierce heat and disagreeable character of the climate. We anchored in a spacious and beautiful bay, the shores of which were very bold and barren. Iron and copper abound in this and the adjacent regions of country; and the bluffs are composed of a coarse ferruginous sand, having very dark surfaces, in consequence of the liberal admixture of iron in the soil. At one point, below the bluff formation, in a part of a curve of the bay near the sea, this _cuir_-colored sand is heaped in small pyramids, in shape not unlike those of Upper Egypt. Little is known of their formation, but every year they become smaller, and are imperceptibly wasting away. They are four-sided, and the outer edges of their angles are as smooth and regular as though constructed of masonry. This, together with their uniformity of position, on the curve line of the bay, gives them every appearance of having been formed by the hand of man. Loando is a well-known Portuguese colony, formerly one of the greatest slave marts on the coast, and no friend of humanity can enter the port without indulging in the most painful reminiscences of the sad wrongs and cruelties formerly perpetrated in these waters. In consequence of the strict _espionage_, however, which the English Government now maintains on the high seas, the slave-trade cannot be carried on successfully; and an English Commissioner, whose presence is not overmuch relished, is also stationed here, in order to see that the treaty stipulations are properly regarded. But for this precaution, it is feared that the Portuguese Government would endeavor to revive their horrible traffic in human beings at the first favorable opportunity.