from 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 midst 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 those 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 enclosure 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 balanced by the winds. A soft light illuminates the bottom
of this deep valley, on which the sun only shines at noon. But even at