The approach to British Guiana is remarkable and characteristic. Passing from the blue waters of the ocean, you enter a shallow sea, turbid and dirty, not dangerous from rocks or coral reefs, from which indeed, it is entirely free, but from shifting shoals, and banks of sand and mud. Even at the distance of 60 miles from land, there are soundings and those of no great depth. Further, as you advance and near the land, the first objects that meet the eye, are not the bold cliff and headland or mountain chain, such as fix the attention of the mariner in making any of the West Indian islands, but merely a low, and at first, a doubtful line of trees (the Courida, Avicenna nitida,) their heads emerging as it were from the waves and bounding the near horizon. On landing, moreover, everything you see is in accordance with this approach, denoting an alluvial country,—the low country of South America, formed by deposition of matters—sand, gravel, and clay, (the same as constitute the bed of the shallow sea,) brought down by rivers, and spread out into plains, and these so low as to be subject to frequent invasion of the sea, which is excluded only (and with difficulty) by embankments, constructed by a people, the first colonists, well trained to such works in their native country, Holland;—in brief, on landing you find yourself in what has often and well been called a tropical Holland.