shameful).

"Please, mas'r, I no can go--Nanny Po he be too far--I no look my
fader (the villain had three), them boy he say I no look 'um
again!"

The wives had won the day, and words would have been vain. He
promised hard to get leave from his papa and "grand-pap," and to
join me after a last farewell at the Plateau. His face gave the
lie direct to his speech, and his little manoeuvre for keeping the
earnest-money failed ignobly.

The swift brown stream carried us at full speed. "Captain
Merrick" pointed out sundry short cuts, but my brain now refused
to admit as truth a word coming from a Mpongwe. We passed some
bateaux pecheurs, saw sundry shoals of fish furrowing the water,
and after two hours we were bumping on the rocks outlying Mombe
Creek and Nenga Oga village. The passage of the estuary was now a
pleasure, and though we grounded upon the shallows of "Voileliay
Bay," the Kru-men soon lifted the heavy boat; the wind was fair,
the tide was ebbing, and the strong current was in our favour. We
reached Glass Town before midday, and after five hours, covering
some twenty-two direct geographical miles, I found myself with
pleasure under the grateful shade of the Factory. It need hardly
be described, as it is the usual "bungalow" of the West African
shore.

Twelve days had been expended upon 120 miles, but I did not
regret the loss. A beautiful bit of country had been added to my
mental Pinacothek, and I had satisfied my mind to a certain