him if he was an Englishman?  No, replied he, I am a Frenchman.—­How, my friend, you are a Frenchman! that gives me pleasure.—­Yes, good old man, I am.—­Then the black tried to put on a certain air of dignity to pronounce the word Frenchman, and said, “Your nation is the most powerful in Europe, by its courage and the superiority of its genius, is it not?”—­Yes.—­It is true that you Frenchmen are not like the white men of other nations of Europe whom I have seen; that does not surprise me; and then, you are all fire, and as good tempered as we blacks.  I think you resemble Durand in vivacity and stature; you must be as good as he was; are you his relation?—­No, good old man, I am not his relation; but I have often heard speak of him.—­Ah? you do not know him as I do:  it is now thirty years since he came into this country with his friend Rubault, who was going to Galam.  This Frenchman, whose language I learned at St. Louis, loaded us all with presents; I still keep a little dagger which he gave me, and I assure you that my son will keep it as long as I have done.  We always remember those white men who have done us good, particularly the French whom we love very much.—­“Well,” answered Mr. Correard, “I am sorry I have nothing which can suit you, and be kept for a long time, or I would offer it you with pleasure, and you would join the remembrance of me with that of the philanthropic Durand, who had conceived plans which, if they had been executed, would, perhaps, have been the glory of my country, and the happiness of yours; but here, take my powder and ball, if that can do you pleasure.”—­Ah! good Frenchman, I would willingly take them, for I know that you have as much as you please in your own country;[64] but at this moment it would deprive you of the pleasure of the chace.—­No, take it all.—­Take my advice Toubabe:  let us divide it, that will be better.  In fact, they divided.  The black invited Mr. Correard to enter his hut to refresh himself.  “Come Toubabe,” said he, “come, my women shall give you some milk and millet flour, and you shall smoke a pipe with me.”

Mr. Correard refused, in order to continue his sport, which was interrupted by the cries of the blacks, who pursued a young lion, which came from the village of Mouit, and attempted to enter that of Gandiolle; this animal had done no harm, but the natives pursued him in the hopes of killing him, and to sell his skin.  Dinnertime being come, all the white hunters returned to their tent.  A few moments after, they saw a young negro, twelve years of age at the most, whose mild and pleasant countenance was far from indicating the courage and the strength which he had just displayed; he held in his hands an enormous lizard quite alive, at least a metre and eighty centimetres in length.  These gentlemen were astonished to see this child holding such a terrible animal, which opened a frightful pair of jaws.  Mr. Correard begged Mr. Valentin to ask him how he had been able to take, and pinion