We rowed directly across, and landed at the southern side at the foot of a wooded range of hills, which forms the southern boundary of the lake. As no road was observed, it was resolved to go directly up the hill, and, in about an hour, after a good deal of scrambling amongst the bushes and long grass, we gained the top, where we found a neat pathway with a ditch on each side, and a hedge growing on the top of the mound, formed of the earth from the ditch; it resembled not a little an English lane. Without knowing where this might take us to, we followed it, in the hope of meeting some of the people, but in this we were disappointed. Yet this place must, at times, be frequented, as we observed a number of similar paths leading to the right and left. The trees on this range of hills are low, and of no great beauty; the fir is the most common, but we did not know the names of the rest. After walking about a mile, our path took an abrupt turn down the brow of the hill, and appeared to lead to a large village at some distance. The view from this elevation was very satisfactory, as it enabled us to check our rough eye draught of the harbour and coast. The road down the hill was so steep that it was just possible to stand upon it, being inclined, as was conjectured on the spot, at an angle of 45º. At the foot of the hill there was a little cottage, consisting of two parts, made of wattled rattans, connected by a light open bamboo roof, so covered with a large leaved creeper as to afford a complete shelter from the sun. The cottage, which was thatched, was enveloped in creepers, encircled by the usual rattan fence at two or three yards distance. One of the wings was occupied by goats; the other, which was dark, seemed to belong to the people, who had deserted it on our approach. There being only a small hole in the wall to admit light and air, and to allow the smoke to escape, every thing inside was black and dirty. Two spears hung on one side, which, upon enquiry afterwards, we were told were for striking fish.