Thursday, 12th.—The morning dull and cloudy. About eight o’clock left Chiadoo; the caboceer, and an immense train of men, women, and children, attending us; the women singing in chorus, while the drums, horns, and gongs, formed a strange discord with their agreeable voices: the road, through a well cultivated country, apparently descending through the rude and rugged pass between the hills. The soil a fine mould, but very thinly strewed over the granite base, which in many places on the plain broke out and appeared like large sheets of water glittering in the sun. At 10 halted at the town of Matoni (signifying “Let me alone”), where we took leave of the caboceer. We staid but a few minutes, while the carriers had swigged a few calabashes of mountain ale, or _otée_, as it is called in their language. The road was now very difficult and dangerous, over broken rocks, and through rugged passes, where the inhabitants were perched in groups to look at us as we passed by. At one halted at the town of Erawa, where we were received with drums; the caboceer conducted us to his house and gave us fowls, sheep, and a goat; and the caboceer of a neighbouring town sent us a pig. The people were here curious beyond measure, yet exceedingly kind. The town is large and very populous. Friday, 13th.—Dull and hazy. The caboceer, on coming to bid us good morning, said that our guide had not told him that we wished to go away to-day, a manœuvre of the caboceer and the guide to detain us, so that all the people might have an opportunity of seeing us: but we were determined to proceed; and after much palaver about hammock-men and carriers, left Erawa at nine: the road through a mountain pass as far as a town called Washoo, where we rested. After this we again entered the mountains. At 2.30 P.M. arrived at Chaki. The country from Erawa to Chaki well planted and thickly inhabited, till we entered the last mentioned mountains, which were more broken than those we had hitherto passed, and appeared as if some great convulsion of nature had thrown the immense masses of granite into wild and terrific confusion. The road through this mountain pass was grand and imposing, sometimes rising almost perpendicularly, and then descending in the midst of rocks into deep dells; then winding beautifully round the side of a steep hill, the rocks above overhanging us in fearful uncertainty. In every cleft of the hills, wherever there appeared the least soil, were cottages, surrounded by small plantations of millet, yams, or plantains, giving a beautiful variety to the rude scenery. The road continued rising, hill above hill, for at least two miles, until our arrival at the large and populous town of Chaki, situated on the top of the very highest hill. On every hand, on the hills, on the rocks, and crowding on the road, the inhabitants were assembled in thousands; the women welcoming us with holding up their hands and chanting choral songs,