On my arrival at Kamalia I was conducted to the house of a bushreen
named Karfa Taura, the brother of him to whose hospitality I was
indebted at Kinyeto. He was collecting a coffle of slaves, with a
view to sell them to the Europeans on the Gambia as soon as the
rains should be over. I found him sitting in his baloon, surrounded
by several slatees who proposed to join the coffle. He was reading
to them from an Arabic book, and inquired with a smile if I
understood it. Being answered in the negative, he desired one of
the slatees to fetch the little curious book which had been brought
from the west country. On opening this small volume I was surprised
and delighted to find it our Book of Common Prayer, and Karfa
expressed great joy to hear that I could read it; for some of the
slatees, who had seen the Europeans upon the coast, observing the
colour of my skin (which was now become very yellow from sickness),
my long beard, ragged clothes, and extreme poverty, were unwilling
to admit that I was a white man, and told Karfa that they suspected
I was some Arab in disguise. Karfa, however, perceiving that I
could read this book, had no doubt concerning me, and kindly
promised me every assistance in his power. At the same time he
informed me that it was impossible to cross the Jallonka wilderness
for many months yet to come, as no less than eight rapid rivers, he
said, lay in the way. He added that he intended to set out himself
for Gambia as soon as the rivers were fordable and the grass burnt,
and advised me to stay and accompany him. He remarked that when a
caravan of the natives could not travel through the country it was
idle for a single white man to attempt it. I readily admitted that
such an attempt was an act of rashness, but I assured him that I had
no alternative, for, having no money to support myself, I must
either beg my subsistence by travelling from place to place, or
perish for want. Karfa now looked at me with great earnestness, and