The European community live principally in the northern parts of the city: a goodly number reside near the earliest seat of the mission in Análakély: a large group again occupy the upper part of the Faravohitra hill, among whom the Friends are conspicuous. Three of the public roads were in constant use amongst us, as they united the various houses and settlements together. The road along the top of Faravohitra going south climbs a steep part of the city-hill and terminates in the Andohalo plain. Close by its termination a road runs westward: it passes the Girls’ Central School, the Normal School and the London Society’s Press: then turns down the hill at the head of the Analakely valley, and passes the Norwegian Church to Ambátonakanga. Turning north under the walls of the Memorial Church there, it descends into Analakely, then keeps up the side of the Faravohitra hill, until it joins the first of the roads at the north end of that hill. I was anxious to see these three roads well paved: to see them made a model of what the city roads and paths should be. But difficulties were suggested and it was thought that the expense would be heavy. Nevertheless a good beginning would have been worth something; and I yet hope to hear that the project will be carried out. At present all the city roads are in a bad way, even at their best. At Ankadibevava, the road which enters the city on the east has a yawning gulf at its side, which would not only swallow one Curtius and his steed, but would bury a dozen enterprising young Malagasy similarly mounted. A strong stream of water from open drains pours into this gully, which year by year is growing deeper. The heavy torrents of rain which fall in a single thunderstorm cut up the ground badly wherever they are permitted to run uncontrolled. And it is because so little is done both to check them in their fall, and to repair the damage when once produced, that the city roads are in such an uncivilised condition. If once put right, they must also by constant care be kept right. But the need of that care is no reason why they should not be repaired at all. In moving about during the day my Indian experience led me to be careful of exposure to the sun. I wore a light woollen dress: my Indian helmet of pith proved most useful; and I carried a large double umbrella. We had all to guard against the morning mists and the strong east winds: and there was a constant tendency to get chilled by changes of temperature in the pure, thin air. Such chills, I found, were far more frequently the cause of fever in our native bearers, than anything else. We walked as much as we could without suffering fatigue: or were carried by four men, in the usual _filanzan_; which is the back and seat of a chair hung on to a pair of well-fitted poles. We observed with interest that after sunset the streets of the city are completely deserted by the natives: and in moving about we always carried lanterns. [Illustration: