On landing, the Chinese features of the place are found to predominate over all others, though the population of the town is also composed of English merchants, Malays, Arabs, Jews, Parsees, Hindoos, &c., amounting in all to about forty thousand. You no sooner put foot on the stairs that lead from the little bridged river, which equally divides the city, than your ears are filled with the interminable banging of gongs, more terrific than those which broke on the tympanum of Mr. Benjamin Bowbell when he was going to be buried alive with an Eastern princess. If a Chinese funeral is progressing, the gong is heard, if some mart has just been opened, or a public sale is to take place, beat the gong, and at sundown from the junk, “Joss” is “chin-chinn’d” by gong-beating. The streets present a scene of much bustle and activity, and traversing them are the most grotesque and picturesque oriental costumes—the large tassel pendent from the Fez cap of the Parsee, of as bright a scarlet, or his loose vest of as deep a blue, and the handle of his pipe just as long, as others that I had seen at prior places. On the eastern side of the town, fronting on a fine parade or drive, are the residences principally of the Europeans, with the exception of some who have their bungaloes near the suburbs. Here are also situated government-offices, a very plain-looking Protestant church, whose swinging fans mitigate the intense heat to the worshipping congregation; a very fine hotel, under whose pleasant mahogany—located in arbored buildings, kept cool by moving punkas—we so agreeably placed our knees, to enjoy fine fruits, and for a time, keep from the rays of a torrid sun; and a pyramidal column, whose inscription tells in English, Arabic, and Hindostanee, how grateful the people there resident are for the service rendered them, while a prominent member of the East India Company’s government, by one Earl Dalhousie. He may be a scion of Pope’s “Next comes Dalhousie,” &c.