Amidst all the bustle of people coming and going, of the excitement of sorting baggage for carriers, of piles of bales and boxes being moved, of loud whistling of locomotives and of shunting engines, I saw a white-robed figure go on his knees, turn his face to the east and bend his head in devotion. It was a Mohamedan silently offering up evening prayer. Religious duty was louder to him than the babel resounding around. He was not ashamed to speak with his Maker in sight of the multitude. Yet there are worthy folks at home who seek to send missionaries to these people to teach them to worship the same God but in a different way. Why is the money and the energy expended on such missions—which are practically hopeless in Mohamedan countries like this—not deflected to the better purpose of mitigating the vice, the crime and the preventable poverty in the great cities of the United Kingdom, where the triple evils stalk abroad in the daylight, unabashed, unashamed. At Minna Station one must see Mr A. Newport, the stalwart traffic inspector. I say one “must,” because the first time travelling over the line there are enquiries which have to be satisfied. For instance, change of train is made for the journey continued early next morning. Further, it may not have occurred to a traveller, even thinking out all requirements to the most minute detail, that wood for a fire on the train to cook food would be necessary. Finally, one’s filter may not be within easy access and condensed water be needed for preparing the evening meal. In all these, and perhaps other instances, Mr Newport is of incalculable aid and value. Whatever the multitude of matters pressing upon him for immediate attention, he always seems willing to accept one more without impatience or irritation. But if everybody going through Minna leaves all these things to be supplied by Mr Newport, it is likely that he will not have a sufficiency of them to satisfy everybody’s expectations. Maxim and moral: When travelling in Nigeria never depend on supplying from another’s provisions that which you have wilfully neglected to provide for yourself. At Minna Station one may also meet Mr E. H. Biffen, Traffic Superintendent of the Baro-Kano Railway, uniformly genial and courteous, and ever ready to do all in his power to help a traveller; and on the platform there will probably be Mr J. Oldfield, Traffic Assistant, who seconds the manner of his chief. On waking up at Minna Station one realises more fully than on the previous afternoon what it is to be on one’s own resources for bodily needs. Sufficient condensed water had been economised for breakfast, but, in a tropical country above all, some kind of wash, at least once a day is almost as necessary for comfort as food, and for preference the operation is performed on getting out of bed.