side of the mountain which rises above Port
Louis, in the Mauritius, upon a piece of land bearing the marks of
former cultivation, are seen the ruins of two small cottages. These
ruins are not far from the centre of a valley, formed by immense rocks,
and which opens only towards the north. On the left rises the mountain
called the Height of Discovery, whence the eye marks the distant sail
when it first touches the verge of the horizon, and whence the signal is
given when a vessel approaches the island. At the foot of this mountain
stands the town of Port Louis. On the right is formed the road which
stretches from Port Louis to the Shaddock Grove, where the church
bearing that name lifts its head, surrounded by its avenues of bamboo,
in the middle of a spacious plain; and the prospect terminates in a
forest extending to the furthest bounds of the island. The front view
presents the bay, denominated the Bay of the Tomb; a little on the right
is seen the Cape of Misfortune; and beyond rolls the expanded ocean,
on the surface of which appear a few uninhabited islands; and, among
others, the Point of Endeavour, which resembles a bastion built upon the
flood.

At the entrance of the valley which presents these various objects,
the echoes of the mountain incessantly repeat the hollow murmurs of the
winds that shake the neighbouring forests, and the tumultuous dashing of
the waves which break at a distance upon the cliffs; but near the ruined
cottages all is calm and still, and the only objects which there meet
the eye are rude steep rocks, that rise like a surrounding rampart.
Large clumps of trees grow at their base, on their rifted sides, and
even on their majestic tops, where the clouds seem to repose. The
showers, which their bold points attract, often paint the vivid colours
of the rainbow on their green and brown declivities, and swell the
sources of the little river which flows at their feet, called the river
of Fan-Palms. Within this inclosure reigns the most profound silence.
The waters, the air, all the elements are at peace. Scarcely does the
echo repeat the whispers of the palm-trees spreading their broad leaves,
the long points of which are gently agitated by the winds. A soft light
illumines the bottom of this deep valley, on which the sun shines only
at noon. But, even at the break of day, the rays of light are thrown on
the surrounding rocks; and their sharp peaks, rising above the shadows
of the mountain, app