On leaving the place, I was exceedingly struck with its castlelike appearance, as well as with the fine crops of corn which surrounded it on all sides, while a rich growth of trees embellished the district to the south. It was a fine morning, and, a heavy dew having fallen, the drops of wet slipping down from the corn glistened in the rays of the morning sun, while the monkey-bread trees being just in full blossom, the white bell-like flowers hanging down from the colossal branches gave a remarkable relief to the scenery. It was through such a country that our path kept along, on a rising ground, when, after a march of about fourteen miles, and leaving a couple of hamlets built of matting, like the dwellings of the inhabitants of Gógó, on one side, we reached the Songhay town of Tínge, built likewise in the shape of a “kasr,” and situated on the summit of a small hill. [Illustration] The houses in this village have not an elevated towerlike shape like those of Fíliyo, nor do they contain an upper story. They have flat roofs. The walls consist of sun-dried clay, which is formed in regular lumps, like stones, and is placed in uniform layers, with loose clay between. Such being the mode of construction, the whole of the houses have rather a miserable appearance from without, and more particularly so at the time of our arrival, in the hot hour of noon, when the destructive effect of the rainy season became more apparent in the midday sun. But the interior of the dwellings is not so bad, and some of them are very large and spacious, as the accompanying ground-plan of the quarters where I was lodged will serve to show. These consisted of a very spacious antechamber, or segífa, forty feet long by ten feet wide, and as many in height,—I myself taking up the part to the right of the entrance, and my people that on the left, a sort of light wall being formed with matting. From this antechamber we could pass into an irregular courtyard, which gave access to a number of apartments where several families were living.