Eager for a closer acquaintance with Macao, I drove out that afternoon in a ricksha. I was whirled first along the Praia Grande, which runs around the curving bay below the hotel. On the right‐hand side lay a strongly built sea‐wall. On the tree‐shaded promenade between it and the roadway groups of the inhabitants of the city were enjoying the cool evening breeze. Sturdy little Portuguese soldiers in dark‐blue uniforms and _képis_ strolled along in two and threes, ogling the yellow or dark‐featured Macaese ladies, a few of whom wore mantillas. Half‐caste youths, resplendent in loud check suits and immaculate collars and cuffs, sat on the sea‐wall or, airily puffing their cheap cigarettes, sauntered along the promenade with languid grace. Grave citizens walked with their families, the prettier portion of whom affected to be demurely unconscious of the admiring looks of the aforesaid dandies. A couple of priests in shovel hats and long, black cassocks moved along in the throng. The left side of the Praia was lined with houses, among which were some fine buildings, including the Government, Post and Telegraph Bureaus, commercial offices, private residences, and a large mansion, with two projecting wings, the Governor’s Palace. At the entrance stood a sentry, while the rest of the guard lounged near the doorway. At the end of the Praia Grande were the pretty public gardens, shaded by banyan trees, with flower‐beds, a bandstand, and a large building beyond it—the Military Club. Past the gate of the Gardens the road turned away from the sea and ran between rows of Chinese houses until it reached the long, tree‐bordered Estrada da Flora. On the left lay cultivated land. On the right the ground sloped gently back to a bluff hill, on which stood a lighthouse, the oldest in China. At the foot of this eminence lay the pretty summer residence of the Governor, picturesquely named Flora, surrounded by gardens and fenced in by a granite wall. Continuing under the name of Estrada da Bella Vista, the road ran on to the sea and turned to the left around a flower‐bordered, terraced green mound, at the summit of which was a look‐out whence a charming view was obtained. From this the mound derives the name of Bella Vista. In front lay a shallow bay. To the left the shore curved round to a long, low, sandy causeway, which connects Macao with the island of Heung Shan. Midway on this stood a masonry gateway, Porta Cerco, which marks the boundary between Portuguese and Chinese territory. Hemmed in by a sea‐wall, the road continued from Bella Vista along above the beach, past the isthmus, on which was a branch road leading to the Porta, by a stretch of cultivated ground, and round the peninsula, until it reached the city again.