In the beginning of September the Adventure sailed from Malta, and in a few days we made the African shore, at about the situation assigned to Tripoli Vecchio. Running down to the eastward, we soon discovered the place of our destination, and on the morning of the 11th, cast anchor in the harbour of Tripoly. The town makes a respectable appearance from the sea; it is surrounded by a high wall, strengthened with bastions, above which are distinguished the mosques and the baths, whose white minarets and cupolas form no unpleasing contrast with the dark tints presented by thick groves of palm-trees, rising in varied groups, from the gardens at the back of the town. The different coloured flags which were hoisted to salute us on the castle of the Bashaw, and the houses of the several consuls, floated gaily in the clear atmosphere and bright sunshine of a Mediterranean climate; and the whole together, viewed under favourable impressions, gave to Tripoly an appearance of much more interest and importance than it was afterwards found to have deserved. The reception which we experienced from Mr. Warrington, the British Consul-General at Tripoly, was friendly and attentive in the extreme; and, on our landing, the consulate was assigned to us as a residence, which he obligingly left at our disposal. The arrival of our party was now signified officially to the Bashaw, who appointed a day to receive us; being at the time indisposed, on account of the operation of _burning_, which he had undergone as a cure for the rheumatism[1]. His Highness was provided with a skilful European physician, who had been for some time attached to his person and to the court; but the prejudices of his country were too strong to be overcome by reason, and the remedies of Dr. Dicheson gave way to the popular superstition.