Mr. Cowan, the hospital assistant at Fernando Po, and myself, accompanied King Eyo, this evening, in his large canoe, up the river, to Creek Town, a distance of twelve miles, where his Majesty resides.

The town is built on the edge of a creek, a short distance from the river.  On our arrival, we found that King Eyo had a larger wooden framed English house, than the King of the Old Calabar, but not in such good repair:  it was also sent from England by Mr. Bold, of Liverpool, to the King’s father.  In the largest room there was an elevated seat, in humble imitation of a throne, where the King sat to hear and give judgment in cases of dispute, and other causes that required his interference.  He had a number of articles of English furniture, for instance, drawers, sofas, chairs, &c.  The principal articles in glass, were a chandelier, suspended in the centre of the room, several mirrors, glass shades, for lamps or candles; rummers, wine-glasses, &c.; but, like the Duke, his Majesty does not sleep in his English house, preferring a native hut, where he was surrounded by his wives and domestics; the latter, of course, being his slaves.  King Eyo is more moderate in his conjugal establishment than the Duke, having only twenty wives, while Duke Ephraim’s number amounts to sixty.

The captain of an English vessel calling on the Duke one day, he exclaimed, “Oh, my friend, you come very good time, I just send away some of my wives, that I have had to entertain me!”—­The captain replying, that he regretted he had not come sooner, as he should have liked to see them.  The Duke answered, “Oh! no, my friend; you could not; it is not Calabar fashion!” How many were there? questioned the captain—­“Oh!” replied the Duke, “only twenty-five!”

Saturday, 15.—­There was so much noise in the town all night, that we imagined it must proceed from drunkenness, or else some desperate rencounter; indeed, it was impossible to think otherwise, for they were screaming, hallooing, and blowing cows-horns, or conchs, which produced so horrid a din, that there was no possibility of sleeping, and we expected no less than that a party would rush into the house where we were.  The uproar, however, died away towards morning, and we learned afterwards, that it was nothing more than the ordinary savage enjoyment of the natives.

Captain Owen arrived this morning to pay King Eyo a visit; he remained a couple of hours, and then returned to Old Calabar Town.

In the afternoon, we left Creek Town, with the King, in Tom Eyo’s canoe, to return to Old Calabar; we had been very hospitably entertained by his Majesty, who gave us what is called Calabar chop, a dish consisting of any sort of meat stewed in palm-oil, and highly seasoned with pepper.