In the summer of last year, I was proceeding home to Britain on leave of absence from my regiment, the --th Highlanders, which were then, and are still, lying in garrison at Malta. Favoured by the friendship of her commander, and my good friend and old school-fellow, Lieutenant John Hall, I had a passage given to me in Her Majesty's Sloop Blonde, of twenty-six guns; and after a pleasant run for a few days, a smart breeze, which we encountered off Almuneçar, when sailing along the coast of Spain, brought down some of our top hamper, and we ran in to Malaga to repair the damage. It was a beautiful and sunny evening when our anchor plunged into the shining waters of that deep bay which presents so superb a line of coast, and the background of which is formed by the undulating line of the Sierra de Mija towering into the pure blue sky of Spain, and bounding, in the distance, the flat and fertile Vega. From the quarter-deck of the Blonde, we had a magnificent prospect of Malaga, with its stately mansions, its domes, its spires and snowy kiosks, bathed in a warm yellow tint as the sun's rays faded along the Vega, and the shadows deepened on its hills, clothed with vineyards and plantations of orange, almond, lemon and olive trees. The gaudy Spanish flag descended from the dark ramparts of the old Moorish fortress of Gibral-Faro as the evening gun was fired from the guard-ship; and then, as the sun set behind tha mountains, the bells tolled for vespers in the lofty steeple of the square Cathedral, and a red lambent light began to glimmer on the tall brick chimneys of that extensive iron-foundry, which (alas for romance!) a thoroughly practical Scotsman has built in Malaga, where it finds food and work for hundreds, in smelting the ore of the adjacent hills, while it pollutes the cerulean sky of Granada. Bent upon a ramble or adventure, the second-lieutenant (Jack Hall) and I took our fowling-pieces, and, leaving our swords behind us--at least I took only my regimental dirk--were pulled ashore in the dingy, which landed us at one of those piers that project from the city into the sea, forming part of that noble mole which measures seven hundred yards in length. Leaving our guns and shooting apparatus at our hotel, we wandered about the town; visited the Alcazaba, which must once have been a fortress of vast strength; then the old Roman Cathedral and Bishop's Palace; but we lingered longest in the Alameda--that beautiful promenade--which is eighty feet wide, and is bordered by rows of orange and oleander trees, and in the centre of which a magnificent marble fountain was tossing its sparkling waters into the starry sky.