went to fetch his old mother and sisters to see me. He told them that I was an Arab, a countryman of the Prophet’s, going to Mecca. They looked at me with great interest, and, making several gestures, exclaimed, _La allah il allah, Mahommed rasoul oullahi_ (There is no god but God, and Mahomet is his prophet) to which I replied according to the usual form. They seated themselves at a little distance from me that they might view me at their ease. The young Foulah went to fetch me some milk in a calabash, which he washed, an extraordinary ceremony in this part of the world; and he afterwards brought me a little fried meat: I requested him to eat with me, but, pointing with his finger to the moon, he said, smiling, and with an air of timidity, “I fast; it is the Ramadan.” From this little camp we discerned the village of Mirayé, situated on the declivity of a high hill, apparently thickly wooded. The village is inhabited partly by Foulahs and partly by Dhialonkés, all Mahometans. We took our leave of the hospitable young Foulah, and returned to our halting place, where we found some of our party returning from Dougué, whither they had been to purchase rice for our journey. We slept in some little huts, made of branches of trees, covered with straw. These huts served to shelter travellers in rainy weather, for the village of Dougué lies at some distance from the road. At four in the morning of the 24th of April, our caravan again moved forward. We proceeded eastward, along a pleasant road covered with fine gravel, and soon reached a stony mountain, which we ascended. In turning another mountain, seven or eight hundred feet high, we almost made the round of the compass. We then came to a beautiful valley, watered by a large rivulet, which the natives call Bangala: it runs from N. to S. We proceeded E.S.E. for the distance of half a mile. We then ascended a mountain of the same height as that just mentioned, and exceedingly steep. On reaching the summit we descended the other side by a very rapid slope, and, at eleven in the morning, we halted in a fine valley, near a spring surrounded by hillocks. We took our dinner beneath the shade of a bombax. At one in the afternoon we proceeded to the S.S.E. still across mountains. We passed near the huts of some Foulah herdsmen. When we were about four miles from the place where we had stopped to dine, we were overtaken by a violent storm. The thunder roared tremendously, and the rain poured in torrents. We took shelter in the herdsmen’s huts. The storm lasted nearly two hours and a half. When it was over we journeyed onward to Dongol, a small slave village,[45] about a mile and a half from the herdsmen’s huts. It was about three in the afternoon when we reached this place. The hospitable chief of the village received us very kindly. He sent me a supper of rice and sour milk, to which he added a little melted butter. The village contains about three