The people of Gibraltar are of a mixed nationality; those of Penang and Singapore are scarcely more so. Here we have English, Portuguese, Moors, Spaniards, Italians, with some Maltese. The occupation of these people is almost entirely that of sailors, and after deducting the garrison, they form three fourths of the population. They are of rather a quarrelsome disposition, especially as the large number of bar-rooms is a constant temptation to drink; but the police arrangements are excellent, and all are kept in due subjection by the ready arm of discipline. The place is virtually under martial law at all times, and in dealing with the class of humanity which naturally congregates here, this system has special advantages. There is no compounding of felony, no compromising with crime. If the laws are outraged, the offender knows he will be instantly arrested and punished, without any fear of popular sympathy. It is not the severity, so much as the certainty of punishment, which causes the reckless and abandoned element of society to respect good and wholesome laws. Punishment of crime is swift and sure at Gibraltar.
The military, warlike aspect of everything is partially relieved by a very spacious public garden and promenade combined, located at that portion of the place known as Europa Point, just outside the gates of the city proper on the seaward side. These gardens being upon a sloping hill-side are terraced, or divided into three plains, about which are planted, with regularity, a variety of fine and thrifty trees, as well as many beautiful flowers, the whole forming a charming Alameda. The broad graveled paths are bordered by sweet-scented geraniums, the scarlet and pink growing wild; verbenas, coronella, and roses of many species, mingle artistically with the statues and fountains interspersed about the grounds. To all of this, just across a stretch of blue water, Africa forms a background. The military band plays here once or twice each week, adding to the natural attractions of the spot; but there is such an almost entire absence of social life, or refined society at the rock, that we imagine few people, except children and nurses, improve the advantages of the Alameda. A walk through the principal street, known as Waterport Street, lined with low drinking places, taverns, or lodging-houses, junk stores, and cigar shops, would not lead one to expect the population to be of the sort to appreciate good music, or to enjoy a quiet promenade in well-kept grounds. Of course there are exceptions to this deduction, and there are a few delightful people, appreciative and cultured, at Gibraltar; but it must seem like being buried alive to make one's residence in such an unattractive place.