The people gave us a hearty welcome. We occupied the chapel, outside the stockade, on the edge of the ravine: and weary with our wilderness journey were glad to secure a long and refreshing sleep. Surveying, photographing, looking round, talking with the shopkeepers, talking with the Governor of the town and the pastor of the church, writing journals, making sketch-maps, and idling generally, made up a quiet, pleasant Saturday: though our wild friend, the south-east wind, did not forget us, but blew hard all day, raised great clouds of dust, drove away plenty of malaria, and made himself generally disagreeable. In the evening we dined with the Governor. He is an old gentleman, who ought long since to have been put on pension. But he and his nice, old wife, were hospitable and kind. The feast was simple and truly primitive. Roast fowls, boiled rice, abundance of gravy and bowls of milk are no bad provision for hungry men. The Governor and his lady sat at table with us, as did three of his officers. We brought our knives and spoons with us: but the three officers ate out of a common plate with a horn spoon each. Three other officers sat on the ground and against the wall: while the cook, who superintended the primitive light, and evidently had great faith in the usefulness of his fingers, freely joined in the conversation and gave his opinion upon various matters without the slightest hesitation. Amongst other questions discussed, was the important topic of our journey onward. Was it better to go by water or by land: if the latter, was the journey long or difficult: if the former, could we get canoes here? We had tried in vain to get clear light upon these points, from the captains of our baggage, during the day: so we asked the opinion of our friends to-night. After serious discussion among themselves, the Governor and his officers delivered the following judgment. “If you take boats, that is good. If you go by land, that is good; because you prefer it. What you like, we like. What pleases you, satisfies us.”