the numerous white specks along the foot of the Lion’s Head gradually resolve themselves into villas standing in the midst of luxuriant gardens, sometimes situated on the grassy slopes, and sometimes picturesquely placed upon the summit of a steep bare rock. The well-to-do residents, especially the merchants, are conveyed from this suburb into the town by a horse-tramway, which is in constant use from six in the morning until ten at night. The part lying nearest to the town is called Green Point, the more remote end being known as Sea Point. Between the two are the burial-grounds, the one allotted to Europeans being by no means dissimilar to the quiet cypress gardens in Madeira. The native cemeteries lie a little higher up the hill, and afford an interesting study in ethnography. That of the Mohammedan Malays cannot fail to claim especial attention—the graves marked by dark slate tablets, distinguished by inscriptions, and adorned with perpetual relays of bright paper-flowers.
Charming as is the scene at the foot of the Lion’s Head, there is another, still more lovely, on the lower slopes of the Devil’s Mountain. Here, for miles, village after village, garden after garden, make one continuous chain, the various farmsteads being separated and overshadowed by tracts of oaks or pines. Every hundred steps an enchanting picture is opened to the eye, especially in places where the mountain exhibits its own interesting geological formation, or forms a background clothed with woods or blossoming heath. The suburb is connected
