A violent storm came on from the east. We rapidly descended by a declivity, covered with large blocks of black granite, and red sand mixed with stones of the same colour. We proceeded three miles E.S.E. over a stony road. I observed some ferruginous rocks, and numerous springs issuing from among them. The storm approached, and we were overtaken by the rain, which fell in torrents. I used my umbrella, but it was of little service. On every side the rain water came pouring down the hills, and swelled the streams. We hurried forward to some huts, situated near a little hill, and there we halted. This hamlet is called Bâfila, a name probably derived from its vicinity to the Bâ-fing (black river). We entered the hut of an old woman, who cheerfully afforded us hospitality. She gazed earnestly at me, and told me that she had never till then seen a Moor. Her little dwelling was surrounded with cassavas, caribbee cabbages, giraumons, pistachios, and gombos. I likewise observed many kinds of herbs, with which I was unacquainted. As soon as the rain ceased, I went out to walk round the garden. The sun was not visible, and the clouds which had gathered upon the tops of the mountains, rendered the atmosphere gloomy and damp. I saw, at some distance in the plain, a stream running over a bed of pebbles, and producing a soft murmur. I might almost have fancied myself in some romantic region of fairy-land. I returned to the humble habitation of the old woman: she was gathering herbs for the supper of her little family, which consisted of two lads, who, she told me, were working in the fields. I went back to our hut and roasted in the ashes some pieces of cassava, which the old woman had given me. Shortly afterwards the two young negroes entered. They had no clothing except a small piece of cloth fastened round their middle. As soon as they learned that a Moor proceeding to Mecca had become their guest, they came to me, and asked me how I was, in a very kind tone. They invited me to their hut, which was much larger than ours; and they fetched a large mat to cover me. The rain, which had begun again, continued all night, accompanied with dreadful claps of thunder and flashes of lightning, in quick succession. When I entered their hut, the kind negroes seated me near the fire upon a sheep-skin, and offered me a little sour milk, which probably they had intended for their own supper; but I should have offended them by refusing it. The mother cooked a little foigné, which grows in abundance in these mountains, for the family’s supper. She placed a small pot on the fire, by the side of a large one, for boiling the herbs which she had gathered that evening. I recognized among them the calabash, the giraumon, allspice, brette, sesamum, and many others;—to these she added a little gombo. The foigné, when cooked, was placed in calabashes to be eaten. I now perceived two little girls, whom I had not before remarked. They ate their supper apart, and the old woman