The extent of the town (from being built in a narrow, receding valley) cannot be seen until the ascent of the Longwood road is gained, when it gradually opens,—and the barracks, hospital, and houses, surrounded by neat gardens, in the villa style of architecture, have a very pleasing effect, more particularly by contrast, as the towering, rugged rocks, on each side, are destitute of any verdure. Although buildings, language, manners, customs, &c., are all English, yet the number of black and tawny people gives a foreign appearance to the place; nor was our surprise lessened, by walking in the evening about the town, to observe the incredible number of children, of all the variety of tints between white and black, playing about. It would excite Malthus, after viewing the comparative sterility of the island, and seeing its incapability of providing for a surplus population, to rail against such an astonishing increase of the human race. Over-population is not the only complaint in the town. The streets are not so well paved, and the rugged stones impede the pleasure which the stranger would derive from a walk, after he had been for some time confined in the limited space afforded by a ship. Of fruit, some large pears, peaches, grapes, and figs, were abundant, and could be purchased at very reasonable prices. Excellent vegetables, consisting of carrots, turnips, French-beans, cabbage, water-cresses, and cucumbers, were to be readily procured, forming refreshment to visitors after a protracted voyage, and excellent stock for shipping. The great object of attraction, however, to the visitor, and the interest, both on the first appearance, and on landing, is naturally directed towards _him_ who was an exile on this barren rock—the hero of a “——thousand thrones, Who strew’d our earth with hostile bones.” Formerly the ruler of kings, he died and reposes in the place of his exile, affording a lesson to posterity of the uncertainty which hangs over human affairs; “——it will teach To after warriors more Than high philosophy can preach, And vainly preached before.” The whole island may be viewed as the gigantic mausoleum of him, whose ambition raised him from a humble station to a palace, and, at last consigned him to a miserable rock, laved by the boisterous waves of the Atlantic, and which now contains all that remains of his former splendour and greatness. “The desolator desolate! The victor overthrown! The arbiter of others’ fate A suppliant for his own.”