and crossed by a corduroy-bridge. It leads to a village of the same name,
which the Anglo-African calls 'Stink-fish Town,' [Footnote: As usual it is
a translation; the natives call the preserve 'bomom,' from 'bon,' to
stink.] alluding tersely and picturesquely to its sun-dried produce.

From this knot of huts and hovels we turn sharp to the east, or inland,
and presently enter the Apatim or Bujiá concession, which has been leased
for mining purposes to Mr. Irvine. There is a shorter road further north,
but it is barred, we were assured, by a bad swamp. Our path, fairly open,
ran up and down a succession of round-topped, abrupt-flanked hills, thrown
together without system, and showing no signs of a plateau. They are
parted by creek-valleys, gulches, and gullies, thick with tangled
vegetation and varying in depth from a few feet to two and even three
hundred. Many of them carry water even in the driest season. The country
is remarkably like that behind Cape Coast Castle, where the Home
Government, during the last Ashanti war (1873-74), proposed to lay down a
tramway.

The land is not heavily timbered, but there is wood sufficient for
everyday purposes. Its chief growth is the spiny bombax, whose timber is
hardly durable enough for permanent shafting. Here, however, and in all
the mines upon and near the seaboard, carpenter-work should be imported
from England; it will be at once cheaper and better. The country is
everywhere seamed with reefs and ridges of naked quartz, beginning near
the coast and striking in the right direction. There must be many more
underground, and all will be bared by 'washing' the country. Mr. R. B. N.
Walker, whose energy and enterprise obtained this, as well as other
concessions, tells me that during a second visit one of his company
'picked up two or three small pieces of quartz showing "free gold" among
the refuse around the native pits.'