In Mansong’s refusal to see him, Park could only see the “blind and inveterate malice of the Moorish inhabitants,” though he could not but admit that the manner of his appearance among the people of Sego, and the to them incredible explanation of the object of his journey, warranted suspicion. To see the Joliba! Absurd! Were there then no rivers in the white man’s own country that he should face such hardships and dangers to see ours? There must be something else behind. Send him away, but being destitute, let us supply his wants, so that the stigma of his death lie not at our doors. Such, it may be presumed, was Mansong’s mode of reasoning, and such naturally the conclusion he arrived at. Park was now called upon to make up his mind as to his future course. Would he go on or turn back? Surely he might return with all honour now that he had reached the Niger itself. Destitute as he was, what could he do? And yet it was hard to have to retrace his steps with such a glorious work before him. No, onward at least some distance he must go, to see and learn something more of the river’s course and termination, perchance even to reach Timbuktu. Park did not reach this conclusion without some misgiving, for he heard vague reports that the farther east he proceeded the more numerous became the Arab tribes, and that Timbuktu itself was in the hands of “that savage and merciless people.” Whatever his horror of the Moors might be, however, he could not let his plans be stopped by “such vague and uncertain information, and determined to proceed.” [Illustration: BAMBARRA WOMEN POUNDING CORN.] Thus dauntlessly did our hero gather his rags about him, and with his bag of cowries proceed on the 24th on the exploration of the Niger River. On the first day he passed through a highly cultivated country, resembling the park scenery of England. The people were everywhere collecting the fruit of the Shea tree, from which the vegetable butter so named is produced. Park found the Shea butter whiter and firmer, and to his palate of a richer flavour, than the best butter he ever tasted made from cow’s milk--a strange statement certainly, since to the palates of degenerate travellers and traders of the present day its taste is abominable. Even among the natives it is only used by the very poorest for cooking purposes, being considered infinitely inferior to palm oil. In the evening Park reached Sansanding, a town of some two thousand inhabitants, largely resorted to by Moors from Biru engaged in exchanging salt and the commodities of the north for cotton cloth and gold dust. To slip as quietly into the town as possible, Park passed along the riverside, and by the natives was everywhere taken to be a Moor. At length a real Moor discovered the mistake, and by his exclamations brought a crowd of his countrymen about the stranger.