The ship came to anchor, about one mile from the landing, soon after sunrise, and a beautiful _home scene_ was presented to our view. The town is on a sloping plane, and rises gradually to the foot of the celebrated Table mountain, a distance of about three miles, the height of this precipitous mountain being three thousand six hundred feet. The town is seen stretching out also on the right towards the Lion’s Head, which is at an elevation of two thousand eight hundred feet, and again to the extreme right towards the Lion’s Rump, which is at an elevation of one thousand one hundred and forty feet. Around the base of this hill, which is called Green Point, are a great many neat villas and cottages. On this point stands the light-house, containing two excellent lights on the same level. On the left again, farmhouses are scattered about the base of the Devil’s Peak, which is three thousand three hundred feet high; the road leading to Wynberg is seen winding round it. The vine-fields were beautifully verdant, the grape just beginning to fill out, and the fruit and ornamental trees appeared to be abundant in the city and about the cottages; but still the general appearance of the country was far from being verdant, and the few trees called the protea dispersed about the elevated and uncultivated parts of the land, disappoint an American eye, being deficient in noble forest-trees. The violent southeast gale of the previous day having subsided, ushered forth a day redolent with sweets to the weary mariner, being calm, mild and beautiful; the smoke was ascending from a thousand fires in the town, preparing the early meal; a school or church bell was heard in the distance; the people who visited us, speaking the English language, forcibly reminded us of home and a thousand endearing and painful recollections, after an absence of nearly two years; but our cares were once more hushed, and the stormy Indian ocean and its ten thousand perils were almost obliterated from our memories, like the forms of last year’s clouds; and with grateful hearts we found ourselves again within the pale of civilization, in a bracing and healthy climate which we had long and ardently desired to meet, to recruit our debilitated frames, which were nearly exhausted by the baneful climates of Java and Manila, Siam and Muscat, Mocha and Mozambique. An interchange of salutes took place on our arrival, but the effect of the echo, was not comparable to that produced by the amphitheatre of rocky hills and caverns which encompass Muscat. In passing up from the landing, we went through the water street of every seaport town, across the grand parade to George’s hotel, in the street called Heeregracht, through the centre of which is a canal which conducts off the waste water flowing from the base of Table mount. From the same source the town and shipping are supplied, the fountain-head being at the beautiful seat of Mt. Breda, by means of