Since writing the above I have come across Severtsoff's paper in the 'Royal Geographical Society's Journal' for 1870. The following passages corroborate some of the views taken by me :"The Bolor is not a distinct meridional range, but merely a north-western continuation of the Himalayas, or more correctly, of the Himalayan branch of the Tsun-lin, which is a gigantic convexity, connecting, by means of gradual transitions, the system of the Thian-Shan with that of the Himalayas" (p. 392, note). . . . "The real orographical import of my observations on the mountains between the Chu and the Syr Daria lies in ... the confirmation of the ideas of Huen Tsan and of the Chinese generally, concerning them (the Tsun-lin Mountains), viz. that they are... an extensive mountain region, formed by the meeting and blending of the two distinct and colossal systems, those of the Thian-Shan and of the Himalayas. The Kuen-Lun and Bolor, as we have seen, do not form separate ranges, but both belong to the Himalayan system. . . . The Thian-Shan and the Himalayan systems respectively represent a wide and continuous convexity, upon which rise numerous ranges subsidiary to the general convexity, and consequently of secondary orographical importance. The Altaï also presents the appearance of a wide protuberance, studded with numerous ridges" (pp. 399, 400).

*

To this very clear view of the matter I should be inclined to add, that the "gradual transition" between the Thian Shan and the Himalayan system, spoken of above by M. Severtsoff, is effected in a different manner for the ridges and for the waterparting respectively. The former, being the result of vast upheavals of earlier date than the present drainage-system, retain, even where broken up into short lengths, their own directions, which are generally intermediate between those of the two mountain-systems to which they are more or less subordinate. They are like splinters lying between two ends of a divided trunk, whose other extremities have been dragged asunder. While the water-parting, which begins by coinciding in direction with the axis of the Himalayan system (running about south-east to north-west) and ends by going from south-west to north-east (about) with the Thian-Shan system, sweeps round in a wide curve from the one to the other, its general direction cutting the said splinter-ridges at all angles in its course, it being, in fact, a mere imaginary line joining the culminating portions of the intervening plateaux. Its manner of transition is like that of a willow-wand which is bent almost double without breaking.

The name given to a supposed range in the place actually occupied by the mountainous plateaux of Pâmir.

X.-On the District of Akém, in West Africa. By Captain J. S. HAY.

[Read, June 26th, 1876.]

DURING the late war between the Asàntis and Djaubins in the latter part of 1875, I received orders from the Governor of the Gold Coast to take command of the field force sent up to the frontier of the British Protectorate, to prevent the neutrality of our territory being violated by the Asàntis, the Djaubins having been driven to take shelter in our territory of Akém. Starting from Accra on the 17th November, I reached Kyebi, the capital of Akém, after 5 days' heavy march, having walked 150 miles chiefly through mud and water, on the 21st; and here, during a period of three months, I had occasion to make my head-quarters. Having thus had ample opportunity to make myself acquainted with an interesting district hitherto almost unknown and unexplored, I have undertaken to describe, as clearly and briefly as possible, what I was able to observe during my stay.

For the sake of greater clearness, I shall divide my remarks into three heads, under which the various particulars I collected seem most naturally to group themselves: 1. The geographical situation, the size and relative position of the towns and villages, with the distances between them, and the course of its rivers. 2. The characteristics of its soil, its timber-woods, mineral and vegetable produce, and peculiarities of climate and scenery. 3. The personal appearance, habits, manners, religion, and language of the natives.

The district of Akém in West Africa lies between 6° and 7° N. lat., in about 1° w. long. It is bounded on the north by the Okwaoo and Karaki countries; on the east by the districts of Krobo and Aquapem; on the south by Gabene and Fàntéland; and on the west by Asànti. A series of mountain-ranges, densely covered with primeval forests, occupy the whole extent, except a small portion of the south-east and a still smaller portion of the western part. The towns and villages are mostly situated on or near the tops of the hills; the exceptions being Akakam, Tumfah, Asuom, Abomosso, Asunafoo, Akrofu, Mmoso, Quabin, and Anninam, lying in that limited western portion where the country is flat. In the larger level district of the south-east are only two small towns, viz., Osanease and Asâmang, the remainder of that portion, with the exception of a few sparsely scattered hunters' huts, being totally uninhabited.

The following tabulated list of the chief towns and villages,

with the average length of journey between them during the dry season, may be useful for reference.

Having described one of these towns I shall have described all, as they scarcely vary at all in appearance. As one wends one's way through the trackless forest, no outskirts or other sign mark the approach to a scene of human life and habitation. We come upon them all at once, without the slightest notice or indication. They are hidden from sight by the primeval trees until they are actually reached. They generally consist of one long straggling street; the houses are constructed of bamboo framework, held together by wood-fibre and thatched with palm and plantain-leaf. The side-walls are plastered with mud over the framework, and very rarely have windows or apertures. They are entered by a side-door, leading into a courtyard, where the culinary operations, such as they are, are performed; the rooms, which are very small and low, being distributed on three sides of the courtyard. In the centre of the town there is generally a fetish-tree, supposed to be inhabited by the local deities, and two trees, one at each end, with rude benches or logs of wood at their feet, where the kings and chiefs hold their "palavers" and receptions.

The whole country is well watered, the principal rivers being: 1, the Berem; 2, the Densu; 3, the Bompong; 4, the Pompong. The channels of these rivers are never dry, receiving constantly a supply of water from the mountain-ranges, and being also frequently swollen by rain. 1. The Berem, though not the widest, is the longest in its course. It rises in the hills near the little village of Apapam, and flowing past Kyebi, the capital, runs north as far as Nsutam, where it changes its course to west, and flowing through the west and south-west part of the country, joins the Prah, on the borders of Akém and Asànti. 2. The Densu (in the latter part of its course known as the Sakoum) also rises in the neighbourhood of Apapam, and, watering the south-east part of the district, falls into the sea Sakumo. 3. The

Bompong and Pompong both rise in the neighbourhood of the two small villages of Osem and Tafo. The Bompong flows south and joins the Densu. 4. The Pompong flows north-east, and falls into the Afram. These rivers, owing to the presence of numerous small waterfalls and shoals, would only be navigable by light canoes, though these even are not used by the natives, who have no commerce, and are too indolent to create any.

Having thus described the leading features of the geographical position of Akém, I now come to the second part of the subject, viz., the characteristics of its soil, its timber-woods, mineral and vegetable produce, and peculiarities of climate.

The entire country of Akém is auriferous in a high degree; the natives, however, are too ignorant and too lazy to work the gold properly, and content themselves with digging circular holes from 16 to 20 feet deep to obtain it, in the shape of small nuggets and dust, the latter being also found in the rivers and watercourses, where I have myself seen them washing it. The country is honeycombed in some parts with these gold holes, which makes walking a difficult and sometimes dangerous operation. The soil is a heavy tenacious red clay, quartz strata and red sandstone cropping up in every direction. The country is rich in timber-woods, which grow to immense height and girth—some I have myself seen over 100 feet high. The largest and best are: 1, the Odum; 2, the Aboko; 3, the Bompaga; 4, the Okusia; and 5, the Osuberene. These are heavy red close-grained woods, that work up well. 1, the Ofram; 2, the Awamemma; 3, the Osia; 4, the Osese; and 5, the Cotton-tree, are white woods, and, with the exception of the last named, which is too soft for working, are available for the same purpose. This wood would be a very valuable article of merchandise could it be transported to the coast, but in the present lack of roads, and of all means of transport, combined with the utter want of industry among the natives, it is a source of wealth that is not appreciated at all, except in the case of the cotton-tree, which is used by the natives nearer the coast for the construction of canoes. The forests being thus left in their primeval state, all cultivation is rendered impossible. With a very small amount of activity and intelligence, however, were the forests cleared in the neighbourhood of the towns, the soil is so rich as to be capable of growing cotton, rice, ginger, and coffee (not to speak of other products), in any quantity. As it is, in spite of the sloth of the natives, the palm-tree flourishes luxuriantly, and were it cultivated in plantations, the oil would prove a rich staple of commerce with the coast. The tobacco-plant grows wild in rank luxuriance, untended and unused, the natives purchasing from the coast for their own con

sumption supplies of the prepared leaf sent from America. The chief fruits, all growing wild, are the guava, the papaw, the plantain, the mango, and the pine-apple. All these, except the guava, which I only saw in the neighbourhood of Kyebi, grow in inexhaustible profusion.

In the neighbourhood of Begoro, the most northerly town in the district, are innumerable gum-trees and india-rubbers; and both might prove a fertile source of wealth, had the natives enough human intelligence and industry to avail themselves of the treasures which Nature showers upon them with so lavish a hand.

In the forests there is an almost total absence of animal life. There are a few deer, leopards, and monkeys, which, at least to a European, I never saw any myself in a live state during my whole stay are inaccessible, owing to the density of their haunts. there; and once only I tasted some venison, which had been shot by a native in the neighbourhood of Kyebi.

The climate of Akém is throughout the year humid. During the three months of my stay there (from November to Jauuary), in what by comparison is called the dry season, no day passed without rain, which generally commenced in the afternoon, accompanied by heavy thunder and lightning.

In the rainy season fever is prevalent. The natives are also subject to epidemics of small-pox, which sometimes carries off nearly the whole population of a town or village,-a visitation aggravated by the ignorant horror they display of vaccination. Leprosy also prevails, and sometimes carries off the whole of their hands and feet, and they are very subject to guinea-worm and ulcers. The goitre is also a prevalent complaint in the south of the district.

A few words may be added about the forest scenery. The palm-trees covered with flowering creepers and ferns, the latter offering varieties unknown in this country, but which, being no botanist, I shall not attempt to describe; the cotton and other trees covered with ivy, the branches interlaced in grotesque and serpent-like forms, and

"The lustre of the long convolvuluses,"

such as Enoch Arden saw them in his desolate island, combined with a death-like silence, only broken occasionally by the fall of a bough, or the melancholy cry of a bird, make up a picture not often seen. It is difficult to convey an idea of the density of these forests to anyone who has not gone through them. The work of doing so is extremely difficult. Sometimes the bush and undergrowth are so thick, that even what track' there is, is lost; and occasionally the traveller comes to a veritable swamp,