Each flotilla that navigates the river has a chief called the _amiroo_, and it is he who determines the periods for halting and starting; he is always the oldest man among the crews; it is his business to settle the amount of the contributions with the Soorgoos: though he has some influence over them, yet he can do nothing in behalf of the Moors, and if the Soorgoos see one on board his canoe, they become refractory, and often proceed to the utmost extremities to obtain what they want. “If you were not worth a single cowrie,” said the negroes of our canoe to me, “they would declare that you were very rich, and you would be obliged to give them something before they would allow us to proceed.” The river, after flowing three or four miles to the north, turns to the east, and then to the N. E.; its width still continuing the same, and its banks being uniformly low and barren. At eight in the evening we stopped before the little village of Cora, which, perhaps, contains two hundred inhabitants. Here we had another visit from the Soorgoos. They immediately went on board the canoe of the chief of the flotilla, to demand the contributions. Each canoe was ordered to put ashore a bag of millet for their supper, and the order was obeyed without hesitation. I was informed that the chief had engaged to pay at Cabra the exactions for allowing us to pass; which exactions consisted of millet, rice, honey, butter, manufactured stuffs, and preserved articles. During the whole of the evening lightning flashed from the east. The heat was oppressive, and we had no rain.