I moved a little further off. He continued: “Yes, I have the skin disease. It is a proof of what I tell you. Would you like to see it?” “N--no thanks; I’m afraid I haven’t time just now.” “It is a sad infliction, but I bear it. Yes, I bear it because it is the Lord’s will. The only thing that gives me any relief is brandy--Have you any about you?” “No, I haven’t.” “Rum, perhaps?” “No, nothing of that kind.” “Dear, dear--Pardon this spasm, it will be over in a minute. Perhaps the sailors have some. Will you lend me a shilling, and I will go and inquire?” His spasms must have come on very badly after he left, for in about half-an-hour’s time I saw him ardently hugging a stanchion, and apparently trying to tie a true lover’s knot with his legs. I inquired who he was, and learned that he was a gentleman at large. I was much surprised; I should certainly have taken him to be a native missionary from his manner. We arrived at Badagry about 10 a.m. The lagoon here is 600 yards wide and 24 feet deep, and the sand-ridge which separates it from the sea measures one-third of a mile in breadth. I should imagine that Badagry is not a healthy place of residence; it is low-lying and swampy, and sanitary considerations have evidently never been taken into account. In fact sanitary law is a dead letter on the whole of the West Coast of Africa, with the exception of Sierra Leone, and the most ordinary and necessary precautions are neglected, while the natives are allowed to indulge in the filthiest habits unchecked. Imagine an English town with its drainage system cut off, and the inhabitants permitted to accumulate offal and refuse of every indescribable kind around their dwellings; then add a supply of dysenteric water, and a tropical sun to make all the rubbish-heaps fester and grow corrupt; throw in a climate that is unequalled for deadliness, and you will have a very fair idea of a British settlement on the Gold Coast. Dozens of lives are yearly sacrificed on that coast to the apathy of the Government, which will not compel the natives to adopt more cleanly habits of life. The first thing that struck me on going ashore at Badagry was a stone, which descended with some force from a tall tree; and I was looking round for a safe object on which to vent my wrath, when one of the sportsmen from the steamer came and made profuse apologies for the accident. I asked him what he was throwing at, and he, being a German, replied: “I drow at de grickeds.” This seemed so incomprehensible that I was going to give up attempting the solution when he exclaimed:-- “No, no--Not grickeds--badts. I know he vas something that you plays in de game. Dey are dere,” and he pointed up to the tree.