Malacca, which I first visited in 1829, and have repeatedly revisited, is completely shorn of its ancient glory, and is no longer of the slightest importance, either as a military position or as a trading mart. Penang, at one end of the Straits, and Singapore at the other, have destroyed its prosperity; and it is now a poverty-stricken place, with little or no trade. The town is built in the old Dutch fashion, each house with its out-offices forming a square with a yard in the centre. The Government offices are still held in the ancient Stadt-House, a venerable pile built by the worthy Dutch burghers some hundred and fifty years ago, and retaining to this day its ancient furniture of ebony, many pieces of which, by the way, have lately supplied patterns for modern sofas and other furniture. The European population is composed almost entirely of the civil servants of the Government and the military men, who reside principally in the immediate neighbourhood of the town, not liking their Malay neighbours well enough to feel inclined to spread far into the country. Some few attempts have been made, within the last fifteen years, to establish nutmeg and other plantations at Malacca; I fear, without much success. Not that the trees do not thrive, but that labour is scarce, owing to the prevailing indolence of the people in this part of the world. Moreover, occasional disturbances among the natives render a residence on the spot (without which little success can be expected) any thing but pleasant. The place is a burthen to the East-India Company, as its revenues do not pay half its expenses.

The country round Malacca is mountainous, and covered with large timber. In its neighbourhood are several tin-mines, which yield a metal some twenty per cent. inferior to that of Banca. This tin finds its way, like every thing else in the Archipelago, to Singapore, where it has of late fetched only thirteen dollars and a half per pecul.

There is a race of men at Malacca, who appear to be the descendants of some natives of Malabar who settled there a century ago, and Malay women; a bad breed certainly, and the men I speak of seem to possess all the devilry of both races. Numbers of them visit Singapore from time to time, bringing among other things, thousands of the Malacca canes which are so much esteemed in England. They have other employments, if fame does not belie them, not quite so creditable to their characters. Here, also, may be found many descendants of the old Portuguese inhabitants, who have here, as elsewhere all over the East, degenerated sadly, and, but for their dress, could not be distinguished from the other natives, except that the latter are a much finer race. These Portuguese are, for the most part, wretchedly poor, and, apparently, will soon become extinct. Very few of the descendants of the old Dutch inhabitants are to be found here now: those still remaining are principally shopkeepers, and are much more respectable in every way than their Portuguese fellow subjects. Slavery, until lately, existed in a domestic form in Malacca; it has, however, been completely done away with through the representations and exertions of the late Governor, Mr. Bonham.

Malacca forms a pretty picture from the sea, and, to the passer-by, seems an attractive spot: his disappointment, on landing, however, would be great, and few inducements to prolong his stay will be found, excepting the climate. This, to the invalid from Bengal, is a treat, on which I have heard many expatiate in glowing terms after their return, with renewed health, to Calcutta.

Penang, or Prince of Wales Island, is, perhaps, the most beautiful of the three Straits settlements, though it is certainly not the most salubrious, being occasionally visited by a very severe fever, which, in my time, carried off many of the European inhabitants.[13]

Here, the nutmeg and the clove come to perfection; and the produce of Penang commands higher prices in the London market, than the spice of any other country with which I am acquainted. The estates of Mr. Brown are the finest on the Island; and the hospitality of their proprietor is unsurpassed. Of late years, the profits of spice-plantations have become somewhat precarious, as the supply in the European markets has exceeded the demand. This has turned the attention of several of the leading people on the Island to the sugar-cane, which thrives here well, and is now to be seen covering large tracts which very recently were lying waste. The sugar-planter here, however, labours under the same disadvantage, as to import-duty in England, as his brother planter of Singapore, which, if not altered, will mar his prospects. Strong representations on the subject have been made to the Bengal Government, and (I believe) to the Court of Directors, as yet without effect.

The revenue of Penang is derived from the same sources as that of Singapore, but falls short of the annual expenses of the place. This may be accounted for by the falling off in its trade, and the decrease in its population, since the establishment of the last-named settlement. It still retains a considerable trade with Sumatra, the coast of Coromandel, and Calcutta, but its direct trade with England is almost entirely cut up. It is also the dÉpÔt for the tin collected at Junkseylon, and other places on the Malay coast immediately opposite. Altogether, however, the establishment of Singapore has very much injured Penang, and thinned its population, rendering its houses of little or no value, and giving to its streets a deserted appearance from which they will never recover.

The plain on which the town stands, is bounded on two sides by the sea, and, beyond the town, is dotted over with pretty garden-houses: it is intersected in all directions by good roads, which are lined throughout with the prettiest of all hedges, composed of the dwarf bamboo. Beyond this plain, the country becomes hilly and covered with woods, except a spot here and there, where the spice-planter has made his clearing, and built his bungalow. On the tops of several of these hills, which are higher and more extensive than those of Singapore, may be seen bungalows for convalescents, approachable only by a bridle path, up which the stout little poneys of the Island carry bravely the health-seeking or pleasure-seeking party. These spots are delightful residences; and the climate is cool enough at night to make a blanket on the bed most welcome and comfortable, I have my doubts whether these are fit places for the invalid to resort to, particularly if his complaint be of a pulmonary nature. Immediately after sun-set, the hill top is enveloped in a dense fog, which makes every thing in the house feel damp, and which does not disappear till ten A.M. next day. It were worth while to ride up one of these hills, for the sole purpose of watching the clearing off of the fog in the morning: the visiter taking his stand in the verandah about nine A.M., and looking down, in the direction of the plain, on the dense mass of fog hanging over the town and suburbs, sees it by degrees clear away like a curtain slowly withdrawn, and the houses, roads, bridges, &c., appear below him as if springing up there by magic. Add to this, the fleet of shipping in the harbour, the opposite plains of Province Wellesley, and the distant mountains towering in the sky beyond, and a scene may be imagined, that can scarcely be described; at least, not by my feeble pen. When I first visited Penang, Province Wellesley was a wilderness, inhabited only by a thin Malay population and numerous tigers.[14] It now wears another and more pleasing aspect, large tracts of its fertile soil having been cleared and brought under cultivation. I know no better spot for the culture of sugar; and if it does not pay the planter here, those of Penang or Singapore have but a poor prospect.[15] Penang harbour is a very commodious and safe one, formed by the narrow strait between that island and the main land. Ships of three hundred tons may here lie within pistol-shot of the wharf in perfect safety. I have never seen the phosphoric light occasionally thrown out by salt-water, so brilliant as it is here. I recollect being very much struck with it, while sailing out of the harbour about eight o'clock P.M. We had a fresh breeze, and each tiny wave looked like a flash of very bright flame, while the ship's wake resembled the tail of a brilliant comet, more than any thing else. I leave the naturalist to account for this.