At a short distance from the shore, we entered Cape Town by the fish-market. Here, every day except Sunday, the Malay fishermen display an immense variety of fish; and lobsters, standing literally in piles, seem especially to find a ready sale. Any visitor who can steel his olfactory nerves against the strong odour that pervades the atmosphere of the place may here find a singularly ample field for ethnographical and other studies. The Malays, who were introduced into the country about ten years since, have remained faithful to their habits and costume. Imported as fishermen, stone-masons, and tailors, they have continued their own lines of handicraft, whilst they have adopted a new pursuit adapted to their new home and have become very successful as horse-breakers.
Passing along, we were interested in noticing the dusky forms of these men as they busily emptied the contents of their boats into baskets. They were dressed in voluminous linen shirts and trousers; and their conical hats of plaited straw, rushes, or bamboo, were made very large, so as to protect their heads effectually from the sun. Their physiognomy is flat, and not particularly pleasing, but their eyes, especially those of the women, are large and bright, and attest their tropical origin. The women, who wore brilliant handkerchiefs upon their heads, and the fullest of white skirts over such a number of petticoats as gave them all the appearance of indulging in crinoline, were assisting their husbands in their work, laughing with high glee over a haul which
