corvette which plies to Assini and Grand Basam on the Gold Coast;
and, lastly, "La Junon," chef de division Baron Didelot, then one
of the finest frigates in the French navy, armed with fifty
rifled sixty-eight pounders. It is curious that, whilst our
neighbours build such splendid craft, and look so neat and natty
in naval uniform, they pay so little regard to the order and
cleanliness of their floating homes.

After visiting every English colony on the West Coast of Africa,
I resolved curiously to examine my first specimen of our rivals,
the "principal centre of trade in western equatorial Africa." The
earliest visit--in uniform, of course--was to Baron Didelot,
whose official title is "Commandant Superieur des Etablissements
de la Cote d'Or et du Gabon;" the following was to M. H. S.
L'Aulnois, "Lieutenant de Vaisseau et Commandant Particulier du
Comptoir de Gabon." These gentlemen have neat bungalows and
gardens; they may spend their days ashore, but they are very
careful to sleep on board. All the official whites appear to have
a morbid horror of the climate; when attacked by fever, they
"cave in" at once, and recovery can hardly be expected. This year
also, owing to scanty rains, sickness has been rife, and many
cases which began with normal mildness have ended suddenly and
fatally. Besides fear of fever, they are victims to ennui and
nostalgia; and, expecting the Comptoir to pay large profits, they
are greatly disappointed by the reverse being the case.

But how can they look for it to be otherwise? The modern French
appear fit to manage only garrisons and military posts. They will
make everything official, and they will not remember the protest
against governing too much, offered by the burgesses of Paris to