Sometimes an inquisitive monkey would spring out from the mangrove thicket to watch the ship glide past—or a splendid white heron would rise from the reeds, or a kingfisher in its sheen of emerald and lapis lazuli, disturbing in its flight a sluggish crocodile asleep on the mud. On the south bank—the bank pertaining to the sons of Ham—an occasional village would appear, lost in the midst of this vast region of desolation. The existence of these human habitations were advertised from a great distance by two or three gigantic palm trees, with fan-shaped leaves, huge fetish trees, as it were, keeping watch over the towns. In the midst of the great bare plain, these palm trees had the appearance of giants lying in wait in the desert. Their perfectly straight, highly polished, greyish pink trunks were thickened like Byzantine columns, and displayed at the top scanty bunches of leaves, as stiff as if cut from iron plate. Presently, as one drew nearer, one could discern a negro anthill, huts with peaked roofs, grouped in compact masses at the foot of the palm trees, producing a general effect of greyness against the unvarying yellow of the sands. Some of these African cities had a large population; all were surrounded by thick, gloomy _tatas_—walls made of earth and wood, and erected as a protection against enemies and wild beasts. A tattered piece of white cloth, floating from a roof loftier than the rest, marked the dwelling of the chief. At the gates of their ramparts sombre figures showed themselves, aged chiefs, aged priests covered with amulets, their long, black arms contrasting with the whiteness of their flowing robes. They watched the Falémé pass, her rifles and guns ready to open fire at the slightest sign of hostile intention. One might well ask what means of subsistence these men possessed, what lives they led, what occupations they pursued behind those grey walls—these beings who knew nothing of the outer world, nothing beyond the solitudes and the merciless sun. On the north bank—where the Sahara lies—there was more sand, more desolation, but of a different aspect. In the distance, very far away, shone out great fires of grass kindled by the Moors, with columns of smoke rising straight up in the still air to an incredible height. On the horizon, chains of hills showed up, intensely red, like burning coals, resembling, amid these columns of smoke, an unlimited succession of furnaces. And there, where there was nothing but arid ground and scorching sand, a perpetual mirage produced the semblance of great lakes, wherein the whole conflagration was reflected and reversed. Little wisps of quivering vapour, such as rise from a furnace, wove above all this a shifting web. The delusive landscapes shimmered and vibrated in the intense heat, and then could be seen changing shape and dissolving like visions. The eyes were dazzled and wearied by the sight of them.