Leaving This Inhospitable Door, He Rode Slowly Out Of The Town Towards Some Low Huts Scattered In The Suburbs.

At the door of a hovel hut, an old woman with a benevolent countenance sat spinning cotton.

Mr. Park made signs that he was hungry, on which she immediately laid down her distaff, invited him to the hut, and set before him a dish of kouskous, of which he made a comfortable meal. In return for her kindness Mr. Park gave her a pocket handkerchief, begging at the same time a little corn for his horse, which she readily brought.

While the horse was feeding, the people began to assemble, and one of them whispered something to the old woman, which greatly excited her surprise. Mr. Park knew enough of the Foulah language, to discover that some of the men wished to apprehend and carry him to Ali, in hope of receiving a reward. He therefore tied up the corn, and to prevent suspicion that he had run away from the Moors, took a northerly direction. When he found himself clear of his attendants, he plunged again into the woods, and slept under a large tree. He was awakened by three Foulahs, who supposing him to be a Moor, pointed to the sun, and said it was time to pray. Coming to a path leading southwards, which he followed until midnight, he arrived at a small pool of rain water. Resting here for the night, the mosquitoes and flies prevented him from sleeping, and the howling of the wild beasts in the vicinity kept his horse in continual terror.

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