The houses of the Malagasy officials and the principal foreign traders were substantially built of wooden framework, with walls and floors of planking and thatched with the large leaves of the traveller’s tree. No stone can be procured near Tamatave, nor can bricks be made there, as the soil is almost entirely sand; the town itself is indeed built on a peninsula, a sand-bank thrown up by the sea, under the shelter of the coral reefs which form the harbour. The house where I was staying consisted of a single long room, with the roof open to the ridge; a small sleeping apartment was formed at one corner by a partition of _rofìa_ cloth. There was no window, but light and air were admitted by large doors, which were always open during the day. A few folds of Manchester cottons, to serve as mattress, and a roll of the same for a pillow, laid on Mr Procter’s counter, formed a luxurious bed after the discomforts of a bullock vessel. All around us, in the native houses, singing and rude music, with drumming and clapping of hands, were kept up far into the night; and these sounds, as well as the regular beating of the waves all round the harbour, and the excitement of the new and strange scenes of the past day, kept me from sleep until the small hours of the morning. The following day I went to make a visit to the Governor of Tamatave, as a new arrival in the country. My host accompanied me, as I was of course quite unable to talk Malagasy. As this was a visit of ceremony, it was not considered proper to walk, so we went by the usual conveyance of the country, the _filanjàna_. This word means anything by which articles or persons are carried on the shoulder, and is usually translated “palanquin,” but the _filanjàna_ is a very different thing from the little portable room which is used in India. In our case it was a large easy-chair, attached to two poles, and carried by four stout men, or _màromìta_, as they are called. They carried us at a quick trot; but this novel experience struck me—I can hardly now understand why—as irresistibly ludicrous, and I could not restrain my laughter at the comical figure—as it then seemed to me—that we presented, especially when I thought of the sensation we should make in the streets of an English town. The motion was not unpleasant, as the men keep step together. Every few minutes they change the poles from one shoulder to the other, lifting them over their heads without any slackening of speed. [Sidenote: THE GOVERNOR]