NUMBER EIGHTEEN.
Singapore, February 6, 1871.
After six days of eteamer life in the tropics, with all ite stifling snnoyances below deck, and a vertical sun tempered only by an awning above, at noon fodsy we enter the straits of Malacca, 1,400 miles from Hong Kong. apd steam pasts light house, a hundred feetin height, built upon a dangerous rock in the center of this great highway of commerce from HEurape to China. We hope to reach Singapore before dark, and the engineer crowds on stesm and every stitch of canvass isepread to the fsir wind. We passeogers are anxious to spend the night on shore, far our supply of ice hav heen exbansted fortwo days, and Wwe lou for an iced-lemonade and a insta of the delicious pine appler, bananas and other fruit for which Singapore is famous.
It is eight o’clock before we grop anchor Within the cretcent-shaped harbor, and ace the lights of the city spread out before us three miles away. But it is too late and wa are too far off for the sampans, or shore boats to reach us before morning. So we resign ourselves to the inevitable, though we dread the night before us, which wilt be doubly hot now that tho steamer is at anchor. But the captain, pitying our dis appointment, orders the gig to be cleared away, and in a few minutes we are speeding along over the moonlit water as fast as four stout sailors can propel our light craft. The
