Saturday we devoted to LAKE ITASY; and spent a most delightful day examining it. The ridge, upon the end of which the village stands, runs north, and at its highest point overhangs the lake, being 1630 feet above it. From the crest of this ridge we had a fine view of the entire country: and as usual we took a series of observations and photographed the lake, now lying in all its length before us. Lake Itasy is scarcely known in the geographical world except by name. Its eastern end has been visited on three or four occasions by the English Missionaries; and also by M. Grandidier. The lake possesses many points of interest. One of its most striking features is the noble mountain of Ambóhimíangára, which overhangs its north-east corner. This is one of the grandest among the many grand hills of Imerina. It is twelve miles in length; and its base is over two miles wide: it has three peaks: each of which is fifteen hundred feet above the general level of the plain. It is said to contain a great deal of iron, and has for many generations been resorted to by the people of the neighbourhood for their local implements. Other lofty hills border the lake on the west. Indeed, except on its south bank it is surrounded by hills; and on that side, the swampy level indicated that in former days and when the waters were deeper, the lake extended to a hilly mass now more than two miles from the shore. The lake is not a deep ravine with one end dammed up by rocks (like Nynee Tál), and so filled by the waters accumulated from above. It is a submerged level. At its western end it looks shallow: and the fishing showed it to be shallow: but toward the east, where strong winds produce a current, the lake is deep. Many streams flow into it from the south and east: and it has but one outlet on the north side: the stream from which goes to the west and south-west and falls into the Kitsamby. The lake is eight miles long and two miles and a half broad. It contains six small peninsulas, jutting into the water; on one of which, called Ambóniházo, “wooded hill,” is a little village, with a pretty church, embowered among the trees. The country around it is very bright and green: and under the clear sky, the lake of pale blue was a most pleasant sight. In the afternoon we descended the hill and went down to its western shore. We found there a plain a mile broad, with rice, maize and fruit growing in the fields: with the little village of Moratsiázo and a chapel. Standing on the margin of the lake, we counted nineteen boats or canoes, dotting the water near, each with a separate man, catching with rod and line the fish for which the lake is celebrated. The water is sweet, but it was very dirty. The people of the village received us hospitably: they gave us some excellent guavas; we had a most acceptable tiffin in the chapel; and we left one of our men, who proves to be a good preacher, to conduct service for them on the morrow.