stars by night. On the sixth day after leaving Dartmouth (a long passage, we were told) we sighted the beautiful Island of Madeira. The weather had cleared, the air was deliciously fresh and balmy, the sea calm; and every one on deck to view the purple cloud slowly rising from the sea, which, they informed us, was Madeira.

Gradually the cloud assumed shape, then deeper shadows appeared here and there, till at last we could discern the graceful uplands, the mountain island, and the fantastically formed rocks strewn along the coast, with the sea breaking into foam on the picturesque beach.

For half an hour we skirted along the coast, seeing no other signs of human habitation than an occasional hut among the boulders on the cliffs, until, rounding a point, we came suddenly upon the beautiful village of Funchal, which is built on the beach of a romantic bay, with the verdant hills rising in grassy terraces in every direction. Low, white stone buildings peeped out from small forests, and the air was soft and balmy as it gently fanned the cheek, giving one a delicious sense of rest and warmth, only to be felt and appreciated on the borders of the tropics after a cold, damp, cheerless English winter. Scarcely had we dropped anchor ere the deck of the ship was swarming with men and women from the shore, offering for sale native work of every description, wicker basket chairs, sofas, tables, inlaid work-boxes, feather flowers, parrots, canaries, such lovely embroidery, and, what was most acceptable to many of us, the varied fruits of the island. Whilst feasting ourselves with bananas, mangoes, oranges, etc, we had an opportunity of observing the strange jumble of humanity on our decks, and surrounding the ship in row-boats of all sizes and shapes. Scores of half-nude, dark-skinned boys were in the boats chattering and tempting passengers to throw coins into the water for them to dive after, and the amount of dexterity they displayed in diving after a sixpence, catching it before it had sunk apparently more than five or six feet, sometimes bringing it up between their toes, was truly remarkable.

On the deck everything was noise and confusion; the sailors at work unloading cargo were hustling the swarthy half-breed Portuguese peddlers out of their way, while they, with one eye on their customers and another on their wares (for Mr Jack Tar is not at all particular about throwing overboard anything that happens to be in his way), were chattering away in a polyglot tongue half English and half Portuguese, praising their own goods and deprecating their neighbours’.

They will take generally before they leave the ship less than one-half what they ask for their goods when they first come aboard, and we noticed that passengers who had been to Madeira before did not attempt to make a bargain until the vessel was just about to start. As we were to remain at anchor five or six hours we wished to take a run on shore, and, together with a married lady and her husband, chartered one of the queer cheese-box-looking boats for the expedition.

All appears delightfully clear while in the distance: the convent on the slope, and the green hill itself, form an agreeable background; but ashore the prospect changed, and the streets turned out to be narrow and dirty, with the exception of the principal boulevard, which runs up from the beach toward the hill.

The queer-looking covered conveyances with runners like a sled and drawn by two undersized oxen, not larger than calves, arrested our attention, and we regretted our inability to take a jaunt in one up the hill to the convent, which had been spoken of as the most interesting place on the island, where the beautiful embroidery is made; but our time was limited, and we could only make a hasty tour of a few narrow, unhealthy-looking streets lined with trees of dense foliage, sip a glass of Madeira wine, so bad in quality it nearly choked us, and then return to our boats.

During the ramble we entered a large, ancient cathedral, that must have been built ages ago, whose decorations were well worth more than the hasty glance we gave it. We passed on to some shops where we found costly hand-made laces. One lace shawl which we bought could be rolled up in a ball in one hand without any injury to the fabric. As we hurried down to the beach we passed several invalids, lying in hammocks swung on upright poles at head and feet and protected from the sun’s rays by awnings; these were carried by servants, and in this gentle manner they enjoyed the air and saw the sights offered on the beach without much fatigue.

What an English graveyard the Island of Madeira is! It is sad to see the feeble creatures there with the deluded idea that Madeira will give health to their tired lungs. It may in a few cases, as some plants will flourish in the climate that will kill others; but no one can see the purple cloud slowly settle over the island and envelop it at sunset, as we did, and believe that in that damp atmosphere, that island home, the consumptive can be cured of the deadly disease. He must go farther south and inland to that dry, sunny upland country, with its dewless nights and hot, sunny days, where health and new life blood have filled the veins of many who would have been along with the others in the English graveyard of Madeira, if that had been their home.

Arrived on board, we found everything in readiness for departure, and, having cleared the decks of the parrots and their owners, the anchor was weighed, the decks washed of the débris caused by the peddlers, and with the ship’s head pointing south, we steamed away from Madeira.