The women bring their garden produce in heavy loads carried on their backs in large baskets. I stand on the porch as I buy and they on the ground, their produce lying on the porch at my feet. They always rise very early, and they usually reach the hill about daylight. We cannot buy more than half of the food they bring; so there is a noisy and animated scramble for first place. They are there before we are up in the morning and they wait in a shed occupied by our men a little way down the hill and in front of our house. There they indulge in chatter and laughter, and one might think they had forgotten their errand. But the moment I open the door and step outside (for it fell to me to do the buying) every woman, with a yell, snatches her basket and pitches it on her back, or perhaps comes dragging it along the ground, thinking in this way to gain a moment over her sisters, and pushing and pulling each other, some of them laughing, more of them cursing, and all of them yelling, the whole fanfare sweeps up to the door. Not having been accustomed to rise so early, my sense of humour is still dormant at that hour; life is always a serious matter to me and a doubtful boon until after breakfast. I yawn, and yawn again, and heave a weary sigh, as I reflect that the clamorous noise which has thus ushered in the day will continue through the long hours until its close. Soon after our arrival at Efulen Dr. Good and I visited the town of an old chief of some fame, named Abesula. Abesula’s claim to greatness was based upon the possession of thirty-five wives and any man who could endure life with thirty-five African wives must be made of uncommon stuff. He was old and most of them were young and unruly, and each one seemed disposed to do her full duty in reconciling him to death by making his present life intolerable. As we entered the town an old woman who knew Dr. Good and was very glad to see him came forward to salute him, calling him his usual name, _Ngoot_. She was covered thick with redwood powder, like red oxide, from head to feet, and he was dressed in light-coloured clothes and was quite trim, for we had travelled by a good road. In a salutation of “linked sweetness long drawn out”—“Ay! Ngoo-t, Ngoo-t, Ngoo-t,” she threw her arms around him and embraced him affectionately, leaving him covered with redwood powder. Other women, evidently thinking that this was the proper way to receive a white man, followed her example. Now, one of Dr. Good’s peculiarities was an insuperable aversion to effusions of emotion. But he always considered the effect of his actions upon the mind or the feelings of the natives; so he submitted to this tender ceremony, but he looked as miserable as ever Abesula did with his thirty-five wives all calling him names at once. Then the old woman, not wishing to show partiality, approached me with an amiable, toothless smile and all the redwood that was not on Dr.