That stump of a tree there serves as a seat when the shade of the bananas is thrown on it. And down on the whole is pouring a flood of tropical sunshine, so hot that we are glad to retire into the shade of a friendly tree. But the old lady is come and offers us her left hand. Her arms from the wrist almost to the elbow are covered with heavy bracelets, and her legs, from the ankles half way to her knees, are laden with great heavy anklets of the same metal. Clank! clank! clank! like a chained prisoner goes the poor old soul when she walks. Long ago she would carry these huge ornaments with no difficulty, and not a little joy. But now, although proud of them still, no doubt, they must be a trouble to her slipping up and down on her withered arms and legs, for she has tried to protect her old ankles by wrapping round them a rag of calico to keep the brass from hurting. She is dressed in a single calico, none too new, but, we are pleased to see, very clean. Other calicoes doubtless she will possess, carefully stored away and hidden in a basket in the darkest corner of her house. Her old face is a mass of wrinkles and she has lost nearly all her teeth. But her upper lip! What a sight! Poor old creature, what a huge ring there is in it. Why, we can see right into her mouth when she speaks, and to us it is not a pleasant sight. This ring, seen in many old women, is called here a “pelele.” Men do not wear it. When a girl is young her upper lip is bored in the middle and a small piece of bone is put into the hole to keep it open. Gradually larger and larger pieces are put in until the full sized “pelele” is reached. Sometimes these rings are as much as two inches in size, and the upper lip is fearfully stretched by wearing them. It hangs away down over the lower lip, and the tongue and inside of the mouth are seen when the old “pelele” wearer speaks. The old dame is very polite but you can see that she is afraid of us and will be quite glad when we go elsewhere. She says her cat is not a bit fierce but is a first-rate ratter, so much so that there isn’t a single rat in her house. Now to the next house through the bananas. It is like the last and very much the same kind of things are lying about. But instead of a cat we are met by the usual African yellow-haired dog. He, too, is suspicious of us, but retires growling. A hen is busy scraping among the rubbish at the side of the house to provide food for her numerous offspring that chirping follow her motherly cluck! cluck!