lf
decided we should go and see what occasioned all this noise. Caroline
took the lamp in one hand, and a stick in the other, and I armed myself
with a long lance. Arrived at the middle of the large cottage, we
discovered at the end of my father's study our dog, who had seized a
large animal covered with yellowish hair. The fears which perplexed us
left us no doubt but that it was either a lion or at least a tiger. We
durst neither advance nor retreat, and our weapons fell from our hands.
In a moment these two furious creatures darted into the hut where we
were; the air was rent with their cries; our legs bent under us; we fell
upon the floor in a faint; the lamp was extinguished, and we believed we
were devoured. Etienne at length awoke, knocked at the door, then burst
it open, ran up to us, lighted the lamp, and showed us our mistake. The
supposed lion was nothing else than a large dog from the island of
Babaguey, fighting with ours. Etienne separated them with a stick; and
the furious animal, which had frightened us so much, escaped through the
same hole by which he had entered our house. We stopped up the opening
and retired to bed, but were not able to sleep. My father having
arrived next morning from Senegal, we recounted to him the fright we had
during the night, and he instantly set about repairing the walls of our
cottage.

It was now the beginning of May; our cotton harvest was completely
finished, but it was not so productive as we had hoped. The rains had
not been abundant the preceding year, which caused the deficiency in our
crop. We now became more economical than ever, to be able to pass the
bad season which had set in. We now lived entirely on the food of the
negroes; we also put on clothing more suitable to our situation than
that we had hitherto worn. A piece of coarse cotton, wrought by the
negroes, served to make us dresses, and clothes for the children; my
father was habited in coarse blue silk. On purpose to ameliorate our
condition, he sent on Sundays to Senegal a negro to purchase two or
three loaves of white bread. It was, in our melancholy condition, the
finest repast we could procure.

One Sunday evening, as all the family were seated round a large fire
eating some small loaves which had been brought from Senegal, a negro
from the main land gave my father a letter; it was from M. Renaud,
Surgeon-Major at Bakal in Galam, announcing to us, to complete the sum
of our misfortunes, that the merc