debouched upon Fort Aumale; from the anchorage it appears a
whitewashed square, whose feet are dipped in bright green
vegetation, and its head wears a dingy brown roof-thatch. A
nearer view shows a pair of semi-detached houses, built upon
arches, and separated by a thoroughfare; the cleaner of the two
is a hospital; the dingier, which is decorated with the brown-
green stains, the normal complexion of tropical masonry, lodges
the station Commandant and the medical officers. Fronting the
former and by the side of an avenue that runs towards the sea is
an unfinished magazine of stone, and to the right, as you front
the sun, lies the garden of the "Commandant du Comptoir," choked
with tropical weeds. Altogether there is a scattered look about
the metropolis of the "Gabon," which numbers one foot of house to
a thousand of "compound."

Suddenly a bonnet like a pair of white gulls wings and a blue
serge gown fled from us, despite the weight of years, like a
young gazelle; the wearer was a sister of charity, one of five
bonnes soeurs. Their bungalow is roomy and comfortable, near a
little chapel and a largish school, whence issue towards sunset
the well-known sounds of the Angelus. At some distance down
stream and on the right or northern bank lies a convent, and a
house superintended by the original establisher of the mission in
1844, the bishop, Mgr. Bessieux, who died in 1872, aged 70. There
are extensive plantations, but the people are too lazy to take
example from them.

Before we hear the loud cry a table, we may shortly describe the
civilized career of the Gaboon. In 1842, when French and English
rivalry, burning hot on both sides of the Channel, extended deep