After a short cruise with the squadron in Singapore waters, during which period the "Tyne" arrived with our new captain, and having bid good-bye to Captain Cleveland, we stood away for Hong Kong, encountering such heavy weather on the passage that we were compelled to put into Saigon for coal. The anchorage to seaward of Saigon--which town is the French capital of Gambodin, part of the kingdom of Anam, and situated some miles up the river Dong-nai--is Cape St. James, where we brought up until the tide should suit for the river passage. In the first watch we commenced to go up the river by the light of a brilliant moon, which, however, did not allow us to judge of the beauties of what is really a beautiful river. By the following morning we had arrived off the town; and what a surprise it was to see a popular European town in such a situation, well laid out, clean, and--well, thoroughly French. The river here is so narrow, and yet of so even a depth, that, in turning, our dolphin striker was buried in the foliage on the one bank and our stern almost touching the opposite one. The town is seemingly built on a well-drained swamp or marsh, and consequently lies very low, in fact, from our topgallant forecastle we could command a pretty general view of the whole of it. Ashore the place is just as pretty as it looks from the ship. It is almost a miniature of Paris. A great cathedral, Notre Dame--an exact model of that on the island in the Seine; a palace for the governor, which might well accommodate an emperor; streets with Parisian names; boulevards and champs, all bearing the well-known nomenclature of the gay capital; cafes, hotels, all remind one of the Paris of Dumas' charming novels. It is the boulevards, streets, and promenades, planted with trees, which make Saigon so beautiful, so cool, and so refreshing towards the evening even in a temperature where to live is a punishment. It is not until sunset that we see anything of the French population,--then, indeed, the cafes and restaurants are in full swing, and gay with music and laughter. These places of refreshment are generally _al fresco_; and as each tiny pure white marble table is presided over by pretty wholesome-looking French girls and matrons, we must have less impressionable hearts than sailors are known to possess if we can pass so much mischief by unnoticed, so courteous as these demoiselles are too.