The people who have occupied this plain, apparently without interruption, from the time of its first settlement, are called Bezánozáno. Their name of Tankáys only denotes that they live in Ankay. They are apparently a branch of the Betsimisáraka tribes, who have peopled the coast. They probably came from the lower plains up the valley of the Mangoro, and it is certain that they have spread along Ankay from south to north; the upper portion of the plain being to this day empty. They have been almost completely cut off from their neighbours, and have led an isolated life; till, conquered by the Hovas, and subjected to the demands of the Hova service, large numbers of the men were made bearers of Government goods, and travelled to distant parts of the Hova dominions. They have suffered much from their isolation and are still very uncivilised and ignorant. Their women have a brown complexion, with liquid eyes. They are a very simple and also a hospitable people. They were afraid of the first English Missionary they saw; but when they found he was a friend, they could not do too much for him. At the present time there are several Churches in the valley. On Thursday morning we left Moramanga and spent the day in reaching Ambódinangávo, a village at the foot of the western chain. In three hours we came to the Mangoro; noticed with interest the depression in which it runs, and crossed it in canoes to the village of Andákana, “canoe-town.” A little to the west of the ferry stands the lofty wooded hill of Ifody. The hill belongs to the western chain, but projects some miles into Ankay, and leaves a long broad valley between that chain and itself. We crossed Ifody, ascending and descending 950 feet; and having rested a while at the village beyond, we pursued our way up the inner valley, along the river Mánambóla. The scene before us in the Angavo valley was truly grand. The valley is almost entirely shut in; the hills on the west and south are very lofty, their vast projecting buttresses are rounded with the most graceful curves, and the brushwood and the forest clothe them with indescribable loveliness. On the south-west stands the massive peak of Angávo, “the lofty,” and the road ascends to the high plains above, over the shoulder of this noble hill. We climbed it early the following day, but we descended and ascended once and again into deep ravines before the solid plain was reached; in one of these ravines, at a most lovely spot, we forded the river Mandráka, with a fine cascade just above the passage. Thence a long climb carried us to the plateau above. The total ascent from the foot of the great chain to this inner edge of the plateau was 1620 feet. [Illustration: THE FORD OF THE MANDRÁKA ]