Day after day, while in the Southern Indian Ocean, the mercury rose nearly to 100° in our cabin, and the sea was as placid as a river; but after passing the Chagos Islands, the heat, at one time, sensibly decreased to about 85°, making a delightful change. Again we crossed the equator, and steering for the northwest point of the island of Sumatra, on the morning of the 9th we had sighted her verdant shores, and were making for the Surat Pass. This narrow passage, which Hosburgh says “is called by the natives Selat Anoos, is formed between the east end of Stony Island and Acheen Head. It is about one hundred and fifty yards wide, with twelve or fourteen fathoms of water. The passage itself is not more than one hundred yards in width, and owing to the strong eddies on each side of its entrance, it is not very safe without a commanding breeze, excepting when the tide is just turning.” The day on which we made the passage was one of those perfect ones when the blue ether above us was of the same clear and deep color as that through which the stars floated at night, and the brilliant sunlight fell with soft and gentle sheen upon land and water. Entering from the west, Acheen Head, a high, verdant slope, looms up to the right; but after making the Straits of Malacca on its northeast side, it is a steep and rough cliff-land. Pulo[4] Chin-chin rises to the left, and her mountain-sides and fertile land skirting the shore were covered with evergreens, and cocoanut-groves. Acheen Head, as we sailed through the Pass, towered high above all; and its sides being superbly dressed with rank grass, tropical trees, shrubs and vines, among which were nestled the picturesque huts of the Malays, presented a most charming appearance. At one point we sailed so near as to enable us to count the overhanging trees, and were seized with an involuntary desire to attempt reaching the vines that hung trailing over the water. We had seen much of the beautiful, the wildly grand, and the sublime in scenery during our voyage, but nothing comparable in attractive loveliness to that which met our eyes as we entered the Surat Pass and sailed into the Straits of Malacca. This was the crowning glory of all,--“a thing of beauty, and a joy forever.” The shoal water on the left, as we entered the Strait, was dotted with the little fishing-boats of the natives, which are something like a canoe in shape, and while fishing are made secure and stationary by being fastened at stem and stern, in clusters of five or six. Hosburgh remarks that “if the fishing canoes are not seen out at this place before seven or eight o’clock in the morning, a fresh breeze may be expected during the day.” Little sail-boats were also gliding in every direction, constructed with a narrow framework about their gunwales, which served as a balance to prevent them from being capsized if struck by a sudden squall of wind.