quently was across light, sandy soil. Some of the men wore a primitive leather sandal, but others were barefooted. The soles of their feet were encrusted with a covering of horny callous skin, surpassing anything I have ever seen. But this dry dead skin cracked fearfully, particularly under the toes and across the sole of the foot. I followed the practice of bathing these sore spots with an antiseptic solution or sponging them with iodine, softening the area somewhat with an oxide ointment, and then protecting the foot with broad strips of surgeon's plaster. These remedies seemed to give the men relief, and they became anxious to have them applied, and were most grateful for their provision. I cannot speak too highly of the temper and disposition of these simple men. In no part of the world have I found the problem of handling men so easy; nor met with such implicit willingness to take orders and carry out the mission cheerfully. I think I should add, in conclusion, that the pay of these men amounted to about seven cents a day in American exchange. We left Mopti by a well-built, tree-lined causeway, which extends for several kilometers across the swampy ground, and separates the shore of the river from the higher dry land of the interior. Then, for several days, the route lay through low hills, and along timbered water courses in a country, sparsely settled but abounding in game. In the roughest part of this hilly region, not very far from Mopti, I was assured by both Frenchmen and natives that there are lions, but I heard no sounds more formidable than the shrill cry, in the hours before dawn, of the little jackal, or kungúlu, as he is known to the natives. The land is too populated for the great types of African fauna. South of Bandiagara, the country rises gradually in slopes and hills that end precipitously in an abrupt cliff that extends northeasterly and southwesterly for hundreds of miles and terminates in the desert of Hombori south of the great bend of the Niger. This cliff is spoken of as La Falaise de Bandiagara. There must have occurred a sharp faulting, which gave rise to this striking cliff, which forms the watershed between the river systems of the Niger and of the Volta. The precipice is only a few hundred feet high, but is very imposing. It is very steep, and is a considerable obstacle to roads or trails. It has weathered in such a manner as to overhang, and leave against the foot of the cliff a talus of broken rock. Under this overhang, the Habé people have built cliff villages, which strikingly resemble the cliff dwellings of Southwestern United States. Nearest to the foot of the talus is the line of houses and stout protective walls. Above these rise tall, rectangular granaries, frequently decorated with odd designs. Still higher up, and reached by ladders against the cliff, are mud and straw beehives of this honey-loving people. In the broad plain at the foot of the cliff lie millet fields and wells. There seems to be a disposition, now, for the Habés to build their homes on this level ground, but this must be due to the increased sense of security due to French rule, for they always told me that their resort to their cliff dwellings was for protection against enemies, especially the Fula. One of the most singular of these Habé settlements -I should say "Kado settlements", because Kado is the singular form while Habé (or Ábé) is plural,—is the village of Fiko (or Piko), between Mopti and Bandiagara. It is built on a rock mesa, like the Indian village of Moki. The path ascends up the side of the rock, and at one or two places is aided by a ladder formed of a heavy log. At one point the trail passes through a cave. The houses are built partly of stone. There were many in an abandoned state. According to the chief, the village now has only about forty people, but the evidence is unmistakable that this was at one time the citadel of a persecuted race. South and east of the Falaise the plain extends for hundreds of miles, unbroken by any elevation of importance, until far to the south one encounters the Kong Mountains. Everywhere, the light, reddish soil is covered with brush, which the French call la brousse, and which would seem to correspond to the English use of the word "bush". Tall fine trees rise here and there above this "chapparal", but the forest is a scattered one except along the watercourses, which are crossed perhaps once in fifty miles. On the north, this bush thins out into what is called the "Sahel", an intermediate zone between the Sahara and the Sudan. On the south the bush increases in density until it merges in the tropical forest. This character of country I judge to be typical of the best portions of the Sudan and is, in general, quite |