The _rendezvous_ was in the immediate vicinity of that filthy river, the Hooghly, on whose turbid bosom floated various carcases in every stage of decomposition; crows perched on the putrid remains of defunct Hindoos, digging their beaks into the more tender corners; while some of the bodies became entangled in ships’ cables, and not a few were washed ashore on to the black ooze that covered the banks. But for the intervention of tobacco, I should have been poisoned. Courtesy has compelled me to give Calcutta its popular title; but the “City of Sepulchres” would have been far more appropriate. The somewhat ambitious plan which I now had in view was to visit the various places of interest on the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal as low as Singapore; then to cross to Ceylon, and thence to Madras and the far-famed Neilgherry Hills, and, lastly, back to—purgatory! Man can, however, but propose; and I was doomed to accomplish not more than one-third of the distance. The ebb had evidently set against me, and seemed inclined to have a long innings. It is hard work pulling against it year after year; the eternal fitness of things seems deranged; and but for the hope which “springs eternal,” how many more would give up the struggle! But even here the wind was somewhat tempered to the fleeced human animal, for I started in ignorance, and a measure of compensation was vouchsafed me, as much, I suppose, as I deserved. Well-remembered places hove in sight as we steamed down the river at a rapid pace and once more imbibed a draught of sea-air. The bay, although quieting down after the storms of the monsoon, was still much too lively for indifferent sailors, few of whom put in any appearance on deck, and fewer still at the festive cuddy. The first port we touched at was Akyab, celebrated for its capacious harbour and extensive rice-fields. Backed as it is by hills of considerable altitude, which were clothed at this season in their richest verdure, the approach to the port was exceedingly picturesque, and the effects of the alternating lights were particularly beautiful as the clouds passed across the sun, and a hill enveloped in the gloomiest shade would of a sudden burst into a splendour of emerald green. Further down, the hills abutted on the sea, which broke against them with great force, displaying thereby a line of foam of terrible import to any vessel that should be unfortunate enough to get stranded there. The harbour, which would contain several European fleets combined, is approached by a deep, yet narrow entrance between two perpendicular rocks, necessitating cautious steering by steam, and still more careful handling of a vessel under canvas. This passed, it suddenly expands into a sort of lake; on a very small scale, Lulworth Cove on the Dorset coast, between Bournemouth and Weymouth, somewhat reminds me of it.