By this time we had grown accustomed to our work, and had adopted a regular plan for our movements. Our rule was to rise at five o’clock, get an early cup of tea, start off at half-past six, and make one good journey before eleven or twelve in the day. Resting for a couple of hours, our bearers and ourselves secured a good meal; then made another journey between one and five o’clock, and rested for the night. The villages in which we stopped were very dirty, with middens of rotting leaves, with their smoky houses, in which soot is regarded with veneration as a mark of ancestral respectability, with their countless inhabitants, and their general disorder and filth. Twice a-day we had a house assigned for our use; sometimes with the hens and geese sitting, sometimes with the dogs and chickens turned into the street, but anxious constantly to gratify their domestic feelings and return home. The sleeping accommodation was varied. Sometimes the house was clean (for Madagascar); usually it was the opposite; the first and the last of the series were the dirtiest and smokiest of all. Our portable beds were a great comfort, they were so complete and convenient; our enamelled cups and plates proved most useful. But to get up at five A.M. daily, and double up all your property, in order to go on pilgrimage to some new place as dirty as the last, is trying to the feelings, even when it is a serious duty. Though wearisome, the journey proved at this time a continual treat. The ascent of these hills is over three broad terraces. After leaving Ampasimbé, all Monday and Tuesday we were crossing the numerous ridges of the first terrace, which slopes outward from a mighty wall of rock, conspicuous to the west. These ridges were often high; they followed fast upon one another, and in the ravines between them were lovely bits of scenery clustering round the running streams. At last, beyond Beforona, we reached the foot of the great wall, covered with forest, the top of which towered above our heads. Turning a little north, the road made over the clay hills for a gap in the ridge, and with many a climb and many a deep descent, we found ourselves at length on the high terrace above it, the second of the series, distinguished by its forest. The scenery in this part of the journey was wonderfully beautiful. Now we passed under the long, arched alley, then came into the open glade; now we were hidden in the dense wood, then found ourselves on the edge of deep ravines. Now we crossed a river full of boulders, stepping from stone to stone, or standing in the roaring water; then took a woodland path, buried in ferns, or descended into rich and shady valleys; or, again mounting some rocky summit, enjoyed a noble prospect over hundreds of square miles. Our last day in the ’Alamazáotra forest was very trying, from its numerous and deep mud holes. We had also to cross a frail structure, meant for a bridge, over a broad and deep stream with a fine cascade.