They Crossed Two Or Three Rivulets Of Cool Delicious Water, As They Had Done On The Preceding Day, And Then Passed Through An Insignificant Village, Whose Chief Sent Them A Calabash Of Bruised Corn, Mixed With Water, To Drink.

At noon, they arrived at the foot of a very elevated hill, and perceived a town perched on its summit, and knew it to be the same to which they had been directed.

They dismounted, and after a laborious ascent, which occupied them three quarters of an hour, at length reached the top. Stones and blocks of granite interrupted their path, so that it became a very difficult matter to force the horses along before them; they fell repeatedly, but without materially injuring themselves.

The name of the town was Chekki; their arrival was rather unexpected, and therefore the governor was not prepared to receive them, and they sat down under a tree, until they were tired of waiting. At length, a man came to conduct them to his residence, which was but a little way from the tree, under which they were reposing, when a tumultuous rush was made by the inhabitants to precede them into the yard, and notwithstanding the presence of their chief, they so surrounded the travelling party as to prevent a particle of fresh air from reaching them. The governor received them with bluntness, but not unkindly, though without much demonstration of good-will. While in his yard, he regaled them with water, and afterwards sent them a large calabash of foorah sweetened with honey to their lodgings, which did not taste unlike thick gruel or burgoo, as it is termed in Scotland.

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