About 5 in the morning, when it was just getting light, our advance party were just on the point of stumbling on to the German outpost, when what should happen but an elephant suddenly walked in between and scattered our opposing parties in all directions. I was in the rear of our little column, and was left in bewilderment, all our carriers dropping their loads and every one disappearing into the bush. After a few minutes we got our men together and our scouts went forward again, and found the Germans had bolted from their outpost, but soon returned and opened fire on our scouts. A British officer writes: I hope you have heard ere this of our capture of Duala and Bonaberi, and our further advance along the Duala Railway to Tusa, and along the Wari River to Jabassi. The heat and climate are very trying. It's awfully hot, far hotter than the last coast place I was in; a drier heat and sun infinitely more powerful, and yet the rains are full on and we get terrific tornadoes. The nights, however, are cooler. We are surrounded by mangrove swamps, and they breed mosquitos, and consequently malaria and black-water fever. This is quite a pretty little place (Duala) with some jolly houses, typical German of the Schloss villa type; nice inside and out. The country is pretty, the soil good. A good deal of timber and rubber. I found some beautiful tusks the other day, worth a good bit. Elephants abound. The native villages around are totally different from other West African ones--here their houses are mostly one long mud or palm erection, with thatched roof, and are divided into compartments instead of the smaller separate huts one is accustomed to see in these parts. The notices all over the place are strangely reminiscent of, say, the Black Forest--"Baekerei," "Conditorei," &c., and yet it is the heart of tropical Africa. None of the natives, strange to say, talk German; all pigeon English. The Hausa boys are splendid chaps, as different from the Duala boys or Sierra Leone boys as chalk from cheese. Smile and make an idiotic but beautiful remark, they rush with a roar of laughter for the biggest load. We get some beautiful sunset effects here. At sundown night before last, on the sea near mouth of river, it was absolutely gorgeous with the purple mountains standing clear out against the orange and emerald sky and the dark gray shapes of our ships lying sombrely in the background, talking to each other in flashing Morse. The great mountain, Fernando Po, standing up out of the water to starboard and the Peak of Cameroon (13,760 feet) wreathed in mist to port; Victoria invisible, as also Buea--both hidden behind the clouds as we passed disdainfully by and entered the estuary of the Cameroon River.