at about 5 A.M....  I wish I could send you a sketch of that gloomy hill at the foot of which Victoria lies, as it loomed sullenly in the dusky morning, its crest wreathed with clouds, and its cheeks wrinkled by white lines that marked the track of the descending torrents.  It was still blowing and raining as hard as ever, but I took my two hours’ exercise notwithstanding, clad in Mackintosh.  Frederick and Oliphant, who went on shore the day before yesterday to dine with Sir J. Bowring, have not yet returned.

[Sidenote:  After the storm.]

Seven P.M.—­The weather cleared about noon.  I remained in my cabin as usual till after five, when I ordered my boat and went on shore.  There were signs of the night’s work here and there.  Masts of junks sticking out of the water, and on land verandahs mutilated, &c.  Loch accompanied me, and we walked up the hill to a road which runs above the town.  The prospect was magnificent—­Victoria below us, running down the steep bank to the water’s edge; beyond, the bay, crowded with ships and junks, and closed on the opposite side by a semi-circle of hills, bold, rugged, and bare, and glowing in the bright sunset....  When we got beyond the town, the hill along which we were walking began to remind me of some of the scenery in the Highlands—­steep and treeless, the water gushing out at every step among the huge granite boulders, and dashing with a merry noise across our path.  After somewhat more than an hour’s walk we turned back, and began to descend a long and precipitous path, or rather street, for there were houses on either side, in search of our boat.  By the time we had embarked the tints of the sunset had vanished, a moon nearly full rode undisputed mistress in the cloudless sky, and we cut our way to our ship through the ripple that was dancing and sparkling in her beams.

[Sidenote:  Better news from India.]

Hong-kong.—­October 8th.—­On the 6th, I went to the anchorage of the French fleet, about twelve miles off.  On our way back we made the tour of the island.  Every spot at the foot of the hills on which anything will grow is cultivated by the industrious Chinese, whose chief occupation in these parts seems, however, to be fishing.  Last evening I dined with our own admiral.  An opium-ship from India had just arrived, so we had a plentiful crop of topics of conversation.  The news from India is rather better.  The whole of Bengal was dependent not only on the China force, but on that portion of it which I took or sent them on my own responsibility.  The 5th and 90th regiments are marching to the relief of Lucknow.  The crews of the ‘Shannon’ and ‘Pearl’ are protecting other disturbed districts, and the marines garrisoning Calcutta....  It cannot therefore be said that I have not done Canning a good turn.  I think, however, that there is a disposition, both in Calcutta and in England, to underrate our needs in China, and I am disposed