The village of Samba Jamangele, which is of considerable extent, is one of many which compose the district of Hourey, and is, with all the others, situate in an extensive plain of that name, the view of which is finely terminated in the south and west by a range of hills covered with wood. To the north are a few isolated hills, and to the east the eye loses itself over a gently undulating surface of some miles thinly sprinkled with large trees. The inhabitants, whose numbers do not exceed 3000, are descended from the Foolahs (who some years since possessed themselves of that country) and such of the former proprietors and their vassals as embraced the Mahomedan faith. They are governed by Bayla, who is a priest and a minister of the council of Foota, which is a sort of republic, headed by an almamy, but who reigns only during the pleasure of the council, and it is not at all uncommon to see this chief changed two or three times within one year. These people have every appearance of being comparatively happy. A very small share of field labour supplies them over-abundantly with rice, corn, and all the other vegetable productions of the country; vast herds of cattle afford them milk, butter, and occasionally meat, and what with their poultry and game, they are seldom without some addition to their cous-cous. They do not cultivate as large a quantity of cotton as their Bondoo neighbours, but are well supplied with clothing both by them and the French merchants at Senegal, in their communications with whom they have invariably acted with the most base self-interestedness and duplicity, not unfrequently terminating their differences in the assassination of a master of a small vessel, or the plunder of his cargo. Here again does the pernicious effect of the Mahomedan faith make itself evident; for those people are taught by their priests to regard the murder of an infidel, or the destruction of his property, as a meritorious act in the eyes of their prophet:—but of this in another place. We left Samba Jamangele at two o’clock on the morning of the 21st of June, and after a most fatiguing march of eight hours we reached a small village called Bunjuncole, where we halted until half after two. We were hospitably received by the chief of the village, whose wife, having been a concubine of the late almamy of Bondoo, amongst other royal visitors, received a small present from me on our first entering that country, and in return for which she now gave us a reception that evinced a sense of gratitude, which was rendered doubly acceptable by the situation we were then placed in, and the rare occurrence of such a return for the many many presents I had made while in that country.