We slept soundly through a cool and pleasant night at 'Riverside House.' The large building of palm-fronds, with a roof like the lid of a lunch-basket, contains three rooms, and will be provided with outhouses. Inside and outside it is whitewashed above and blackwashed below. The coal-tar was suggested by my nautical companion; and, for the first time on the Ancobra River, we exchanged the _bouquet d'Afrique_ for the smell of Europe. The big crate stands high upon the right bank, here rising about twenty feet, and affording a pleasant prospect of breezy brown stream deeply encased in bright green forest. The draught caused by flowing water keeps the clearing clean of sand-flies, the pest of the inner settlements, and European employes will find the place healthy. The up-sloping ground behind the house could be laid out in a pottage-garden; and, as Bahama-grass grows fast, there will be no difficulty about disposing of the under-growth. Next morning (February 27) we were joined by Mr. Morris, who told the long tale of his grievances. He had been in charge of ten men for five months, during which he had not received a farthing of pay. Consequently his gang had struck work. Thus chatting we followed the cleared path leading up the right bank of the little Akankon creek: now dry, it is navigable for canoes during the rains, and falls into the Ancobra under a good corduroy bridge near the landing-ramp. A line of posts showed the levels which had been carefully marked by Cameron. It was a pleasure to see the bed; it had been scraped in many places by the gold-washer, and it promises an ample harvest when properly worked. We left on the left hand Safahin Sensense's village, a cluster of huts surrounded by bananas; we crossed the shallow head of the creek, all a swamp during the rains; we walked up a dwarf slope, and after half an hour we found ourselves at 'Granton.' The position of Granton is not happily chosen. Though the hill-side faces south it is beyond reach of the sea-breeze; the damp and wooded depression breeds swarms of sand-flies, and being only forty feet above the river, it is reeking hot. The thermometer about noon never showed less than 92º (F.), and often rose to 96º; in the Rains it falls to 72º, and the nights are cold with damp. It will be a question which season will here prove the safest for working. On the coast I should say the Rains; in the higher lands about the Effuenta mine I am told that the Dries must be preferred.