Sunday, June, 1.—There has been scarcely a day during the last fortnight, that some vessel has not arrived at, or left the settlement, and one or more been seen in the offing; in fact, the little colony appears to become extensively known already, and it is expected that the large palm-oil vessels will find it more to their advantage to anchor in Maidstone Bay, and carry on their trade with their tenders only, than to take their vessels up the river, where the long period occupied in procuring their cargoes, affords time for the men to imbibe the pestilential disorders of the climate, frequently occasioning the sacrifice of many lives.

Tuesday, 3.—The day at last arrived on which I was to quit Fernando Po. Captain Owen, finding his crew much reduced in numbers from sickness, which appeared unlikely to diminish, and fearing also, that his operations would be retarded for the want of stores, determined to make a visit to Sierra Leone; by this step, hoping to re-establish the health of his men, and to procure the necessaries of which the Colony stood in need. Accordingly, making the requisite arrangements on the establishment, and committing it entirely to the charge of Captain Harrison, he got under weigh in the afternoon, when we made sail out of Maidstone Bay, and stood for the opposite coast, with the Agnes' long-boat in tow.

On looking back at this incipient colony, and reflecting upon the probabilities of its future destiny, a few thoughts arise, which this appears to be the proper place for inserting.

The formation of a new settlement amongst an uncivilized people must always be an event of interest, whether we regard it in a political or moral point of view, as extending the power of the parent nation, or spreading the advantages of improvement in regions hitherto sunk in the darkness of barbaric ignorance. The objects proposed by the British Government in establishing a colony at Fernando Po appear to have been three-fold, and not less connected with political than moral results.

First, to create facilities for promoting our commercial relations with the districts of tropical Africa, in which many valuable necessaries and costly luxuries are produced.

Second, to assist in carrying into effect the wise and benevolent regulations adopted by our Government for the suppression of the slave-trade, which has been so long the scourge and disgrace of our fellow men in this portion of the globe.

Third, to increase the means of advancing the civilization of central Africa.

The determination to endeavour to carry these leading objects into full effect, is sufficiently evidenced in the perseverance with which our Government has established the British name on the African Coast, in our different settlements at Sierra Leone, Cape Coast Castle, and other places. We have made as yet but slight progress towards the completion of designs so comprehensive in their purpose, we must look for the causes in impediments which time alone can conquer, and not in any lack of zeal on the part of those who were appointed to execute the plans of the Government. If firm resolution, meritorious conduct, and indefatigable diligence could have mastered the difficulties which meet the English residents on this insalubrious shore, the ends which it was desirable to attain must have been speedily accomplished: but unfortunately the laws of nature and the force of habit oppose us at the very threshold of our proceedings, and seem almost to render our labour a work of despair.

All our attempts to penetrate into Africa, to establish a friendly intercourse with the people, and to abolish the traffic in human life are repelled, and frequently rendered abortive, by the fatal influence of the climate, and the obstinate resistance of the natives to our projects of liberty, which they oppose because they derive a lucrative source of income from the slave-trade, while habit has made them insensible to its ignominies and miseries. This opposition to our progress would be of no moment, if the barbarous notions of the people were not favoured by the repulsive nature of the climate, which is even more pernicious than we originally believed when we ventured to form a British settlement within its range. It is so unpropitious to European life that the pestilential breath of death may be said to lurk in every calm, and to be wafted in every gale.

It has been supposed, and not without reason, that much of the insalubrity of the climate may be referred to local causes, and that if the soil could be completely cleared and drained, the operations of the air in the redeemed space would expel, or reduce, the baneful influences that at present produce such extensive mortality. But this would be a labour demanding almost an incalculable and indefinite period of time, and which the difficulty of procuring sufficient manual power must always render nearly impossible, to any great extent.