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.