consent that the beginning of the events I am going to narrate took place.
Business was somewhat quiet in the Old Calabar, so our senior thought he would go for a bit of an excursion to a place called Qua Iboe, which was supposed to be a small tributary of the great river of Old Calabar, but which he found to his astonishment was some twenty-five miles westward of the mouth of the Old Calabar, and ninety miles from our main station at Calabar; however, he did not like to return without seeing the place, so he and his crew went, and after two or three days' journey, they suddenly found themselves in the midst of breakers, and it was only by luck they got washed into the mouth of the river Qua Iboe, half-dead with fright, so much so that our senior would not venture back in the boat, but preferred walking overland.
After being absent seven or eight days, he returned to headquarters with a very lively recollection of what he had gone through. Not being accustomed to the sea, the knocking about of the small boat very much upset him, then the long overland journey back took all the pleasure out of what he had intended to be a little holiday. Consequently, on his return he had but little to say about the river he had gone to see; and not being of a talkative disposition, had I not pressed him on the subject, I think, as far as our establishment was concerned, the Qua Iboe would have been a blank space on the map to-day, as many more fine places are in that great continent.
So while we were at dinner, an evening or so after his return, feeling very anxious to hear something about his excursion, I remarked that we had not heard him say much about the new river. "No," said he; "for the
