PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION

SIX years after this book was written I found myself
living in Sierra Leone—a writer should be careful
where he goes for pleasure in peacetime, for in war-
time he is only too likely to return there to work. It
was odd flying up from Lagos, following from the sky
the line of surf along the Liberian coast, seeing the
huddle of tiny shacks which called itself Grand Bassa,
where I had dismissed my carriers, passing over the
small white isolated building which was the British
Consulate at Monrovia. It was odd too retracing my
steps from Freetown to Kailahun, travelling in the
same tiny lamp-lit train, staying in the same rest-
houses.

I can look back now with a certain regret at the
hard words I used about Freetown, for Freetown is
now one of the homes I have lived and worked in
through all the seasons. I have been able to recognise
in myself after a year's sojourn the inertia which as a
tourist I condemned so harshly in other people. But
if there are fallacies into which the passing visitor
falls, there are fallacies too which come from a close
acquaintance. After a little while there is so much
one ceases to notice, and if I were writing of Freetown