The high hills all around, with towering palms on many points, made this spot appear more like the Bay of Rio de Janeiro in miniature than any scene I ever saw; and all who have seen that confess it to be unequaled in the world beside.

The fertility evident in every spot of this district was quite marvelous to behold, but I shall reserve further notices of this region till our return from Loanda.
We left Golungo Alto on the 24th of May, the winter in these parts.
Every evening clouds come rolling in great masses over the mountains in the west, and pealing thunder accompanies the fall of rain during the night or early in the morning.

The clouds generally remain on the hills till the morning is well spent, so that we become familiar with morning mists, a thing we never once saw at Kolobeng.

The thermometer stands at 80 Degrees by day, but sinks as low as 76 Degrees by night.
In going westward we crossed several fine little gushing streams which never dry.

They unite in the Luinha (pronounced Lueenya) and Lucalla.