There is another matter which should be raised. These young men who come out from England—I refer to the English trading firms only, not having inquired into the system prevailing among the Continental firms—do so under a three years’ contract. This is an altogether excessive period for the Niger. It should be cut down one half. Even then it would be half as long again as the officials’ term of service. Professors of tropical medicine and magnates at home may say what they like about the improvement of health in the large European settlements. The towns are one thing. The “bush” is quite another. Speaking generally, the climate of Nigeria, and the conditions under which four-fifths of white humanity have to live are such as combine, even in favourable circumstances, to impose the severest strain, both physical and mental, upon all but a select few. At the end of a year’s continuous residence, the strain begins to make itself felt in a multiplicity of ways. Not to acknowledge it, and not to make provision for it, is, on the part of an employer, penny wise and pound foolish—to put the matter on the lowest ground. [Illustration: VIEW OF LOKOJA AND NATIVE TOWN FROM MOUNT PATTEY, LOOKING S.E.—THE BENUE IN THE DISTANCE.] At Idah we leave Southern Nigeria. That bold bluff of red sandstone crowned with grey-trunked baobabs and nodding palms—black with roosting and repulsive vultures—which overhangs the river at this point, stands out at the dying of the day, a sentinel pointing to the north. Henceforth the appearance of the country undergoes a remarkable transformation, more and more accentuated with every hour’s steaming. High valleys, slopes and tablelands; a sparser vegetation; masses of granite or red sandstone vomited promiscuously from broken, arid plains and taking on fantastic shapes; in the distance, mountain ranges and solitary rounded eminences—on our right, King William’s range rising to 1200 feet, on our left, Mounts Jervis, Erskine, Soraxte, and many others, varying from 400 to 1000 feet. The river curves, winds and narrows, obstructed here and there by dangerous boulders, which the falling waters bring into view. More substantial, better-thatched huts appear upon the banks, and around them an increasing number of robed Africans. Plantations of yams, and guinea corn set out on parallel, raised ridges, attest a higher skill in cultivation. Cattle are seen cropping the green stuffs near the water’s edge, and canoes pass bearing cattle, sheep and goats to some neighbouring market. We enter the spreading domain of Mohammedan civilization, and before long we shall find ourselves in a new world, as our gallant little vessel, none the worse for a narrowly averted collision and grounding on a sandbank or two, casts anchor at Lokoja. Here beneath the wooded heights of Mount Patte the wonderful prospect afforded by the junction of the Niger and Benue unfolds itself, and presently we shall mingle with robed and turbaned African humanity, come