The Morning Being Calm, Mr. Park Ascended A Tree, And Not Only Saw The Smoke Of The Watering Place Which He Had Passed In The Night, But Also Another Pillar Of Smoke To The East, About Twelve Or Fourteen Miles Distant.

Directing his course thither, he reached some cultivated ground, on which some negroes were at work, by whom he was informed that he was near a Foulah village, belonging to Ali, called Shrilla.

He had some doubts about entering it, but at last ventured, and riding up to the dooty's house was denied admittance, and even refused a handful of corn for his horse. 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.

On the following morning, he came to a watering place belonging to the Foulahs, one of the shepherds invited him to come into his tent, and partake of some dates. There was just room enough in this tent to sit upright, and the family and furniture were huddled together in the utmost confusion. When Mr. Park had crept into it upon his hands and knees, he found in it a woman and three children, who with the shepherd and himself completely occupied the floor. A dish of boiled corn and dates was produced, and the master of the family, according to the custom of the country, first tasted it himself, and then offered a part to his guest. Whilst Mr. Park was eating, the children kept their eyes fixed upon him and no sooner had their father pronounced the word mazarini, than they began to cry; their mother crept cautiously towards the door, and springing out of the tent, was instantly followed by her children; so truly alarmed were they at the name of a Christian.

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