I had gone on a little in advance, when suddenly I beheld, through the branches of the trees, the splendid sheet of a large river, far larger than that of Logón. All was silence! and the pellucid surface of the water undisturbed by the slightest breeze; no vestiges of human or animal life were to be seen, with the exception of two riverhorses (called “niyé” by the people of Logón), which, having been basking in the sun on the shore, plunged into the water at our approach. This, then, was the real Shárí, that is to say the great river of the Kótokó (for Shárí, as I have said before, means nothing else but river), which, augmented by the smaller but very considerable river of Logón, forms that large basin which gives to this part of Negroland its characteristic feature. The river at this spot runs from S. 30° W. to N. 30° E., but its general course is rather winding, coming further upwards from the south, and beyond forming a reach from E. 38° N. The shore, where I stood enjoying the tranquil but beautiful scenery, is closely approached by the forest, and has an elevation of about fifteen feet. No human habitation was to be seen, with the exception of a small village on the other side. The surface of the water was undisturbed, except now and then by a fish leaping up; no waterfowl enlivened the banks; not a single boat was to be seen, till at length we observed the ferrymen on the opposite shore, where it formed a flat and sandy beach, making us a sign that we were to proceed a little higher up the river, in order not to miss the landing-place when carried down by the current. We therefore went about 800 yards further up; and I made myself comfortable under the shade of a tree, awaiting the boat, and indulging in the thought that I was soon to enter a new country, never before trodden by European foot. At length the boat came; but the ferrymen, as soon as they saw who we were, behaved in a strange and mysterious manner, and told us that they could not take us across the river before they had informed their master. However uncommon such a precaution seemed to be, I had as yet no idea of the real state of affairs. We therefore sat down patiently to await the answer, which we thought a mere matter of form. The atmosphere was very sultry, and the sky overcast; clouds were hanging over the river, as forerunners of the rainy season. In order to keep off the deadly stings of the blood-flies from our horses, we made a large fire. The sting of this fly is almost as fatal as that of the “tsetse” in the southern parts of this continent; and many travellers lose all their horses on the shore of this river.