Chapter XOur Reception and Entertainment

“How the Fox saved the Frog.”

“A Frog, having built a nice town, received a visit from several well-dressed young men. The Frog welcomed them, and they very civilly answered his greetings. The Frog asked them where they were going, and they replied: ‘We are not going anywhere in particular; we are just walking about visiting the towns.’ The Frog called out his thirty wives to come and pay their respects to the visitors, and they came out of their houses and greeted the young men.

“The wives asked their husband how he came to know them, and he replied: ‘I do not know them, but seeing them well dressed I saluted them.’

“‘Oh! you welcomed them because they are well dressed,’ they retorted; ‘yet ever since we married you we have never received any new cloths from you.’[28]

“‘Never mind,’ he said, ‘I am well known as a great chief who has built a whole town and married thirty wives.’

“‘Oh yes,’ they answered, ‘you are well known; but we work and farm, and have no cloths, only rags, hence you don’t respect us like those who are well dressed.’ The Frog was dumb.

“The Frog asked the young men where and how he could buy some cloth, and they told him that if he carried some peanuts to Mboma[29]he could buy plenty there, and the road was not difficult to find, for if he followed the river he would reach there in a few days. The Frog was glad to hear this, and thereupon he killed six fowls and made a feast for his friends, and told each of his wives to bring him a large basket of peanuts in the morning, for he said: ‘Altho’ I am a big chief of a large town I feel ashamed, because my wives have had no new cloths since I married them, and they do not dress properly.’

“The next morning the peanuts were brought and tied into a load, and for the journey some food was prepared, and the Frog started, telling his wives that he would be back in twenty days.

“On the third day of his journey the Frog reached a large baobab-tree that had fallen acrossthe road, and while he was considering how he, a person with such short legs, could jump over it, he heard a voice say: ‘If you are a strong man please put down your bundle and save me, for as I was on my way to visit my wife’s family this tree fell on me and has held me here for twenty months. Have pity on me and help me now from under this tree.’

“When the Frog heard this, he at once put down his load and went under the tree, and swelled and swelled until he lifted it and the Snake was able to crawl out; then the Frog let the tree down again, and went to pick up his load to continue his journey. The Snake, however, immediately caught him by the leg, and told him to get ready to be swallowed.

“The Frog said: ‘What have I done that you should swallow me, for although I had a right to be paid for helping you, yet I did not ask for anything! Let me go on my way to Mboma.’

“While they were arguing about this an Antelope arrived, and he was asked to judge between them; but when he had heard the whole matter he was afraid to settle the affair properly, for he said to himself: ‘If I let the Frog go, who is right, but little, then the Snake will kill me.’ So the Antelope gave the verdict in favour of the Snake.

“The Snake quickly said: ‘Do you hear that?Get ready at once and I will swallow you.’ But the Frog cried: ‘He would have given me the verdict only he is afraid of you.’

“While they were discussing this point a Fox arrived on the scene, and he wanted to hear all about it. When the case was laid before him, the Snake said: ‘Am I not in the right, for I am very hungry and want to swallow the Frog?’

“But the Fox would not give the verdict until he had seen the Frog lift the tree, so he said to the Snake: ‘Release the Frog’s leg and let him go and raise the tree,’ which the Frog did at once.

“The Fox said: ‘Truly the Frog is very strong to lift so large a tree. Now, Snake, you go under it, and show us how you were lying beneath the tree.’ So the Snake went, thinking he would surely win the case as the judge was taking so much trouble over it, but the Snake was no sooner under the tree than the Fox called out: ‘Frog, let go the tree,’ and down it came right on the Snake, holding him so that he could not get away.

“The Fox then said to the Snake: ‘You are entirely in the wrong, for your friend did a kindness to you in helping you in your trouble, but you want to repay him by a bad deed--you want to swallow him.’

“Thereupon they all went away, leaving the Snake under the tree, as no one would help him again for fear of his ingratitude.

“The Frog thanked the Fox for saving him, and gave him his load of peanuts, and they became great friends.”

At the close of this story no one had a word to say in defence of the Snake’s ingratitude. All thought he was rightly punished in being left beneath the tree to starve to death, and Bakula remarked that: “Ingratitude is a crime so black that no one ever owned to being guilty of it, and everybody is ready to condemn it in others.”

This story had so swept sleep from their eyes that they begged Bakula to tell them another of his stories; but he said he could not recall any more stories that night; and then another lad volunteered, and, with much laughter, told the following story of the trick a jocular boy played on two friends. I call this--

“Inquiry should come before Anger.”

“Once upon a time a Wine-gatherer and a Fisherman became great friends; they ate together, walked and talked together, and went to work together; and when one went to collect winefrom his palm-trees the other would look after his fish-traps in the streams and pools near to the palm-trees; and after their work was finished they would meet in the booth to drink the wine and cook and eat the fish together.

“One day, while thus eating and drinking, the Wine-gatherer said: ‘There is no one who can break the strong friendship that exists between us two,’ and the Fisherman assented, saying: ‘Why, if you had not mentioned it, I was going to remark that no one can separate us one from the other.’

“A frolicsome boy heard them make this covenant of friendship, and laughingly said to himself: ‘When they go away I will do that which will test their friendship for each other.’

“In a short time the two friends returned together to their town, and when they had gone the boy took the hoop and climbed up the palm-trees, and removed all the small calabashes that were placed there to catch the palm-wine, and then he went to the pools and streams and gathered all the fish-traps, and put the calabashes in their place, and the fish-traps he tied to the palm-trees. Having thus changed them he returned to his town.

“Next“Nextmorning the Wine-gatherer and the Fisherman awoke, and calling each other they started for the valley where their work was, andthere parted--one to look at his calabashes on the palm-trees, and the other to visit his fish-traps.

“The Wine-gatherer, on arriving at the booth, took his hoop and climbed a palm-tree, and there he found, not his calabash, but a fish-trap; he pulled it off and threw it down in anger, and descended the palm. Thus he went from palm to palm and found nothing but fish-traps, which he collected and carried to the booth, and sat down to wait for his friend, full of wrath and indignation.

“While this was happening the Fisherman was going from pool to stream, finding nothing but small calabashes floating on the water where he had put fish-traps the night before. In great anger he gathered them up and carried them to the booth, and there he met his friend, who said: ‘Those calabashes, are they not mine?’

“To him the Fisherman replied: ‘Those fish-traps, are they not mine?’

“‘Why did you put your useless fish-traps in my palm-trees?’ excitedly asked the Wine-gatherer.

“‘Why did you put your silly calabashes in my streams and pools?’ retorted the Fisherman.

“And without more ado they stood up and beat each other, and cut each other, until at last they fell exhausted to the ground.

“At this moment the mischievous boy arrived, and seeing their plight, said: ‘What! are you not friends? Why have you been beating each other? I heard your covenant of friendship the other day, and because I wanted to try it I went and changed your things. Now you have been quarrelling with each other without talking matters over. Inquiry should come first, and anger follow after.’”

This story elicited many a chuckle from the listeners; but at last, overcome by sleep, they rolled themselves in their mats and were soon in the land of dreams. The next morning they were astir before sunrise, and after traversing many hills and wading several swamps and streams Bakula and his friends reached their noon camping-place, tired, hungry and disagreeable. Everybody threw down his or her load, and stretched themselves in the shade.

It was a wearisome road. The hills were steep, the paths simply rain-washed gutters where all the earth had been swept away by the torrents, leaving only the rough stones sticking up, and often on either side of the track was tall grass from ten to twelve feet high that interlocked their stalks when the storm winds played among the hills or whirled through the valleys, so that the travellers as they pushed their way forward had frequentlyto put their arms before them to keep the points of grass out of their eyes and the sharp blades from cutting their faces.

Photo]JUNGLE PATH THROUGH THE FOREST[Rev. R. H. Kirkland.(Said to be haunted by bad spirits at night.)

Huge boulders like giants’ marbles were strewn about the hill-tops, and some were clinging to the sides of the hills, while others were lying about the valleys as though the players in their games had thrown them too far. The travellers had, with difficulty, to wind round or clamber over them, and every extra exertion was felt in such a tropical heat.

After resting they ate some of theirkwangaloaves, and, bathing in the turbid river, they picked up their burdens to start again on their journey, when Old Plaited-Beard kicked his foot against a stone. A look of horror came into his beady eyes at the ill omen against himself.

The snake omen was against the whole party, but this was against the individual. On a journey like this the omen might mean death at the end of the journey to whomsoever it occurred, and the only way to counteract its potency in this case was to go right back home and stay there.

Old Plaited-Beard was too superstitious to disregard the portend, and with many a muttered curse on his carelessness he turned his face homewards, having taken the long fatiguing journey to no purpose. No one regretted his going, forhe was as cantankerous as he was superstitious.

His wives and followers at first refused to return with him; but the old man, infuriated at their unwillingness, poured upon them a torrent of abuse, charged them with bewitching him to kick the stone, and threatened them with the curses of his various fetishes in such invectives that they trembled before him, and, gathering their goods, followed him with hearts full of fear and hate.

We lost so much time over these events that instead of reaching our destination that evening we were compelled to spend another night on the road. The whole of the next morning was leisurely spent in resting and dressing.

Satu and his followers bathed during the morning, using soap-worts, which lather well, instead of soap. Then one of his wives combed out and replaited his hair, and dusted it with fine camwood powder. Another wife very carefully rubbed his face, body, legs and arms with palm-oil, to render the skin soft and cool; and a third pounded some camwood into a fine powder, and, putting it into a coarse mesh cloth, dabbed the oiled skin with the cosmetic, giving it a pleasant look and an appearance of being well groomed. A thick band of brilliant red was drawn across the forehead,and Satu went and lolled on a mat to wait for those who had not such expert wives.

The wives rubbed one another with palm-oil, and dusted each other with the red camwood powder. Bakulu and his friends operated, with the skill of experience, on each other, and I came in for such a polishing that I shone like gold on my owner’s neck.

These toilet operations being completed, bundles were untied and a miscellaneous assortment of garments and gaudy coloured cloths were brought to light, and were donned with all seriousness.

The eight bandsmen were adorned in two old pairs of trousers, three waistcoats, one pair of boots--down at the heels and out at the toes, two jackets with patches of different colours on the sleeves, and two peaked hats that, like their other articles of attire, had seen better days in other climes. The intervals in their dress were filled with diverse pieces of gaily coloured cloth. Satu followed, invested in a bright red blanket round his loins, two waistcoats, old and ill-fitting, across his chest, a heavy brown coat on his back, and a large brass fireman’s helmet on his head. Behind him came his wives, the foremost of whom carried a red, black and green parasol over her husband’s head. The sun blazed, and poor Satu perspiredin the costume that had cost him a heavy tusk of ivory.

The other head men were arrayed in soldiers’ coats of diverse ranks and regiments--in their selection they had not been captivated by the stripes on the arms, but by the colours. Hence you saw a colonel of one regiment hob-nobbing with the corporal of another. Bakula wore a cloth of gorgeous colours round his waist, a brewer’s cap on his head, one stocking (he owned a pair, but had lent the other to his particular friend) on one leg, a boot on the other, and a beaming self-satisfied smile on his face.

Fortunately we had not far to go. Up a slight hill, across a plateau, and there stood the town we had come to honour with our presence.

Chapter XOur Reception and Entertainment

The welcome of Tonzeka and his people--A case judged--We find the white man in Tonzeka’s town--Tonzeka defends the white man--He complains of the effect of the white man’s preaching--A drunken bout.

The whole town turned out to welcome us with shouts, gun-firing, clapping of hands, trillings, and the slapping of their open mouths with the palms of their hands. The folk lined the paths leading to their chief’s house, and saluted and chaffed us good-humouredly as we threaded our way to it preceded by our admired band. Satu’s brass helmet excited much envy and many remarks. It was the first time such a head-gear had been seen in those parts, and naturally called for various comments on its size, brightness and value.

Chief Tonzeka received us heartily, and having exchanged greetings with us, showed Satu and his followers the quarters they were to occupy during their visit, and deputed a large number of women to fetch firewood and water, and also cook for us.The women had to supply all the vegetable foods for our meals, and Tonzeka sent them the necessary meat and fish. Tonzeka proved the genuineness of his hospitality by killing a large pig, thus supplying Satu and his people with the meat that all Congos love so well.

We incidentally heard there was a white man--one of thoseMundele wa N zambi(white men of God) visiting the town, but we did not see him until the next evening.

While the women were busy preparing the evening meal, Satu and his folk foregathered in the chief’s courtyard (lumbu) to exchange news, to talk about trade, about politics, and about the different cases that had been brought to them for settlement as chiefs and head men.

Tonzeka gave as an example of the foolishness of the people in his district the following case that was brought before him for judgment.

“A pig belonging to the Lumu people was killed by a Manga man on a farm belonging to one of his wives. The Lumu folk demanded payment for the pig; but this was refused on the ground that any pigs found digging up cassava roots on a farm can be killed. After a time the Manga women went to work that piece of ground again, and the Lumu women met them there, and, being more numerous, took away the hoes belongingto the Manga women, and claimed the land as their pig was killed on it, and no compensation had been paid for it. That evening the chief of Manga sent a message to the chief of Lumu, and the messenger carried a gun, which he should not have done, so the Lumu people took the gun away from him on the plea that he was bringing force into their town.”

“How did you settle that palaver?” asked Satu.

“Well, you know,” replied Tonzeka, “that any pig found on another’s farm may be killed, and in some parts of the country the man who kills it can take half the flesh for the trouble of killing it, and to compensate him for the damage done to his farm; and the other half he sends to the owner of the pig. In this part, when a pig is killed for trespassing, the one who kills it leaves it at the place where it was slain, and sends to tell the owner what he has done, and he himself has to fetch the carcass, and as he finds it on another person’s farm he has sure proof that it has trespassed.”

“Yes,” assented Satu, “I know those are the different customs, and in our district we always take half the pig.”

“But,” continued Tonzeka, “this case was complicated because the Manga people allowed theirmessenger to take a gun with him when he was sent with their message.”

“That was very foolish of them,” said Satu, “but how did you decide the case?”

“I judged it thus,” answered Tonzeka. “I fined the Lumu people one pig for attempting to claim land which did not belong to them, as the killing of a pig gave them no rights over the land on which it was killed; and I fined the Manga people one goat, as the messenger had no right to carry a gun when he went to deliver a message. It was taking force into another’s town, and was also an exhibition of insolence.”

“You judged wisely,” commented Satu, “and I hope you received a fat pig and a large goat for your trouble.”

“You will be able to judge that for yourselves,” laughingly replied Tonzeka, “for the fines[30]only arrived this morning, and you will be eating the pig for your evening meal.”

Satu expressed the hope that he would receive such splendid fines every day.

Tonzeka then informed his visitors that there was a white man staying in his town, and promised to take his friend Satu to see him.

“I wonder if it is the same one whom we drove out of our town?” queried Satu.

“Why did you drive him away?” asked Tonzeka, with a note of surprise in his voice. “Surely he had done no harm to either you or your people?”

In an apologetic tone Satu admitted that he had not done them any harm, for they did not give him an opportunity, as they would not allow him to enter the town. “But Old Plaited-Beard told us such horrible things against the white men that if I had not been there my people would have killed this one. What is he doing in your town?”

To him Tonzeka replied: "This white man comes to see us very often, and tells us about God, and about His Son Jesus Christ, Who, so the white man says, came to die for us on a cross. I don’t understand all his palavers; but he washes the sores of old and young, rich and poor, head men and slaves, puts good medicine on them, ties them up with his own white fingers, and the sores are quickly healed. We understand that! You know my mother was very ill, and we tried onengangaafter another, but they failed to cure her, although they ‘ate’ up a lot of money. Then this white man came on one of his visits, and in two or three days she was fully restored to health by the white man’s medicines."

“Yes,” remarked Satu, “perhaps he gave her the sickness by his witchcraft, and therefore couldeasily cure her. These white men are exceedingly cunning.”

“I know what you mean,” replied Tonzeka. “That is what ourngangasdo to make money out of us. Thengangasby means of their charms and fetishes cause our diseases, and they receive fees for doing so; by their fetishes they curse us or try to cure us, and again they receive fees, and thus they become rich by our complaints. This white man did not charge for the medicine, and what is more he gave my mother some of his own food to make her strong.”

“I did not quite mean that,” said Satu, “but these white men are here to buy up the dead bodies of our relatives, which they store in their houses, and on the first good chance they send them away in their ships to Mputu to become their slaves. They have wonderful magic for restoring the spirits to the bodies.” And as he spoke a look of alarm and hate came into his eyes, for he called to mind his fear that his own brother and various other relatives were, as he was speaking, toiling in farms and forests for their dreaded white masters.

With an air of superior knowledge Tonzeka said to his honoured visitor: "There was a time when I also firmly believed what you have just stated; but I and many of my people have beento this white man’s station. He received us very kindly and showed us over his house; and truly, we saw no shelves[31]there, and no places where he could keep dead bodies. When we had an opportunity we entered his stores, medicine-house, boys’ quarters, and nowhere did we find a place where he could stow away dead bodies. After two or three visits we came to the conclusion that these falsehoods had been started by ourngangasto protect their own interests."

Satu expressed his astonishment at what he had heard; but still doubting, asked: “Did you go into all the rooms in his house, and does he ever send bales and boxes to the coast?”

“Yes,” replied Tonzeka, “I went into all the rooms, for one of the boys showed me every nook and corner one day while the white man was absent. He does not trade, consequently he has no bales and boxes to send to the coast. Friend Satu, do not believe those lies about the white man. Evidently ivory and rubber have a value in their country. Why, the white man himself showed me a coat and a sheet made of rubber that no water could pass through. I tried them myself; and I understand that in their country it rains all the year round, for they have no dry season as we have, and if they had no rubber theycould not make rubber coats, and would have to stay in their houses every day.”

Satu thanked his friend and said: "What you tell me about rubber coats and sheets quite accounts for the presence of traders in our country; but these ‘white men of God’ do not trade. Why are they here?" And a look of sly triumph came into his eyes as he continued: “They don’t buy rubber, they don’t deal in ivory, they don’t trade in anything, and, according to your own statement, they don’t even buy dead bodies. Why are they here? That is what I want to know?”

“That is the very question I put to this white man myself,” replied Tonzeka, "and I will try to give you his answer. He said: A very long time ago, years and years ago, the people in his country were just like the people are now in our country. They were naked, painted savages that lived in huts in their forests. They had spears and knives, and fought each other as we do. They had canoes like ours, and wore brass armlets and anklets very much the same as ours. They believed in fetishes, charms andngangas; and, to use his own words, his forefathers lived wretched lives and died miserable deaths without God and without hope. Then some messengers brought to his country the wonderful news about God, aboutJesus Christ, and about the great Salvation, and the hearts and lives of many thousands were changed and filled with joy and pity--joy because they were saved, and pity for us who know not of God’s great love for all, for so great is His love that He freely gave His beloved Son to die for us. Now these people have sent this white man and others like him to pass on the blessings of Jesus and His grand salvation to us, for it seems that this Jesus gave them a command to preach the good news to everybody all over the world.

“I spent nearly a whole evening in talking these palavers over with the white man, and I have told you all I have remembered; but I am afraid I have forgotten a great many of his words.”

Again Satu thanked his friend, and promised to ponder in his heart the words he had heard, or, as he expressed it: “To drink water over them.”

“Well,” said Tonzeka, “I have sent two of my sons to the white man’s school, and they are learning to read, write, do carpentry and to make bricks. They are gaining much knowledge, but there is one thing I do not like about this white man.”

“What is that?” eagerly asked Satu.

Tonzeka paused a few moments before replying, and then he broke out in a self-pitying tone: "This white man tells me that I am a bad man,because I lie, steal, commit adultery and become often very drunk, and in doing these bad deeds I am breaking God’s laws, and shall be punished for doing so. When he talks like that I always feel very uncomfortable, for I know that what he says is perfectly true. I never heard before that God had given any laws for us to obey, because, as you know, we have no books; yet when we get drunk, or thieve, or lie, or do any other bad action, something inside tells us that they are wrong and condemns us; but we are not ashamed, because everybody does them. If he would give us medicine, and teach our boys and girls it would be all right, but when he talks God’s palavers I do not like him, for he makes my ‘heart stand up’ with fear."

Satu was about to condole with him, but there was a general movement towards the fires, for by now the saucepans were steaming with cooked food, and all the folk were eagerly anticipating the feast of pig and pudding. Satu turned these matters over in his mind, and remarked to one of his head men: “After all, there are some disadvantages in having a white man in one’s town, if he makes us uncomfortable in our hearts; and,” he continued, “I am not sure whether Tonzeka is bewitched by the white man, or is sharing profits with the white man in the sale of dead bodies.”

After the evening meal Tonzeka gave another proof of his hospitality. He opened some cases of trade gin[32]and two demijohns of rum, and invited Satu and his party to a drinking bout.

The fiery liquor quickly induced a quarrelsomeness in the drinkers that I thought would cause such murderous fights that the town would be drenched with blood; indeed, Bakula received a nasty cut on his arm, and several others were wounded and bruised. But this intoxicated madness was fortunately soon succeeded by a maudlin state, in which the carousers embraced each other, shouted senseless sayings, joined in ribald refrains, and engaged in obscene dances until at last the potions gained the mastery and they fell on the ground in sottish sleep--mere breathing logs.

Borne on the breeze from a distant part of the town came the evening hymn of the white man and his boys, and distinctly the words were carried to me--

“God loved the world of sinners lostAnd ruined by the fall;Salvation full, at highest cost,He offers free to all.Oh, ’twas love, ’twas wondrous love!The love of God to me!It brought my Saviour from aboveTo die on Calvary.”

“God loved the world of sinners lost

And ruined by the fall;

Salvation full, at highest cost,

He offers free to all.

Oh, ’twas love, ’twas wondrous love!

The love of God to me!

It brought my Saviour from above

To die on Calvary.”

Chapter XISatu visits the White Man

Bakula goes to the white man to have his wound dressed--White man puts in a good word for the traders--Bakula is touched by the white man’s kindness--A native dance--An exhibition of native pride--A long talk with the white man--We gain many new ideas from our conversation--Bakula has another interview with the white man, and they become good friends.

The next morning the sun rose with clear-eyed brightness, oblivious of all that had occurred during his absence through the night, for he and the moon never approach near enough to each other to exchange confidences. Notwithstanding the sun’s obliviousness, the results of the night’s debauchery were evident in all who had taken part in it. Some ate monkey peppers, others bits of kola-nuts as pick-me-ups, and others took a plunge bath in the nearest stream; but headaches, wounds and bruises were not easily removed by such means.

Photo]WATHEN: THE DISPENSARY.[Rev. J. H. Weeks.

WATHEN: THE BOYS’ QUARTERS.Bricks made by schoolboys and buildings erected by old school lads.

During the afternoon those who had smarting cuts went shamefacedly to the white man to have them bandaged with his soothing ointments, and among those who went was Bakula. He thoughtthe white man would not know him in his “dress costume”; but I saw that the white man recognized him at once, though he said nothing at the time.

The white man carefully dressed the wounds, and then asked them how they came by them.

“We don’t know,” they answered, “for we got madly drunk last night on gin and rum, then we had a fight and cut each other. We were too stupidly intoxicated to remember which one cut the other, and who started the quarrel.”

“I am sorry the traders sell you such vile stuff. It maddens you when you drink it, and it is the chief cause among you of a great amount of sickness, and of a large number of the fights that occur between your towns and villages,” quietly and sadly replied the white man.

“Yes,” they asserted in chorus, “the traders are all as bad as the things they sell us.”

“No, they are not all bad,” sharply answered the white man, “and neither are all the articles they sell bad. You can buy from them good cloth for covering yourselves, blankets to keep you warm in the cold season, nails and tools for building your houses, soap, candles, saucepans, tins of provisions, and many other things that are good, and help to make your lives comfortable.”

“That is so,” they assented, “but when ourheads ache with the bad gin, we forget the many good articles we can buy of them.”

“I know many of those traders,” continued the white man, “who hate selling gin and rum to you, and wish a law[33]could be enforced to stop all trade in them; but you are such fools, and will buy drink; and there is so large a profit on it that their masters in Mputu make them sell it to you.[34]Some of the traders are very good men, and perform many acts of kindness to you black people. Do your wives throw away all the pumpkins in their farms because a few have maggots in them?”

“No, of course not,” they sheepishly replied; “our wives throw only the rotten ones away.”

“Well,” rejoined the white man, “do not speak ill of all the traders because some cheat and rob you; nor condemn all their goods because they sell these accursed fiery waters that turn your towns into pandemoniums, and you into beasts and fiends. Buy the good articles they have, and let the bad ones alone.”

Bakula was astonished that the white man had not accused him of striking at his outstretched, friendly hand. He was in a quandary. Did the white man recognize him or not? Or was he simply waiting his opportunity to punish him for whathe was now heartily ashamed? He was fearful lest the latter was the explanation, and he had almost made up his mind to put the matter to the test, and ask the white man; but just then the drums began to beat, and hurriedly taking farewell of their friend who had so patiently dressed their wounds and given them good counsel, they ran back to the chief’s courtyard.

To the native there is something electrical, moving, exhilarating about the beat of a native drum. Directly he hears it his body begins to twitch and sway to and fro in rhythm to the beat, a smile spreads over his face, weariness is forgotten, dull care is thrown to the winds, and he is soon shuffling round the circle, or has taken his place in the line, clapping his hands, and singing a chorus in admirable time.

Bakula and his townsmen were no exception, for even now in their running they kept step to the beat of the drum. On their arrival they took their place in the line of male dancers. The particular dance to the fore was called “Sala.” A medium drum was used, and the formation was in two lines, one of each sex. This dance was characterized by a rapid shaking of the whole body; and during it they made up songs about one another, causing endless amusement by their pointed remarks, innuendoes, and by-play.

While the dance was in progress a member of Tonzeka’s town went over to the drum, and by beating on it carried on a conversation such as the following, asking questions and replying to them himself.

“Welcome to you, chief Satu. Are you quite well?”

“I am quite well,” replies the drummer.

“Have you come a long way?”

“Yes, my town is very far away.”

“Are you very rich?”

“Yes, I have plenty of wives, slaves, pigs, goats, cloth and money. I am so wealthy that I really don’t know how rich I am. I don’t know what to do with my money. It fills my bags, boxes and houses.”

“Have you much with you?”

“Yes, my pouches and bundles are full.”

“Give me some of it, as you are so rich.”

And foolish Satu, flattered by this pretended conversation out of his usual caution, and in the vanity and pride of the moment, handed over some thirty shillings’ worth of brass rods. Gratified by the largesse the drummer beat away and sang a recitative in praise of Satu’s generosity, and the object of all this by-play sat swelling with self-complacency.

No sooner did the first drummer drop the drumthan Bakula darted forward, and with laughing eyes and skilful hands beat out a conversation in fulsome praise of Tonzeka; his riches, his prowess in war, his unstinted hospitality--all received their full meed of wheedling adulation, and at last came the expected request: “As you are so rich, so great, so generous a man, give me some of your money.”

And poor, cajoled Tonzeka had to pass over thirty-five shillings’ worth of brass rods, for it would never have done not to surpass his visitor, Satu.

Bakula went to share his spoils with some friends; and another man took the drum and tapped out flatteries about the different head men with varying success, until he received what he considered a very mean present.

Then the disappointed drummer rapped out a song on stinginess so bitingly sarcastic that sharp words were bandied about from side to side, and what began as an amusing dance ended in amêléethat engendered bad blood between the persons concerned for many a day.

As soon as the noise had quieted down, Tonzeka offered to take his visitor to see the white man, but through an indefinable fear Satu shrank from going in the broad daylight, and promised to accept the invitation after the evening meal. Soat the appointed time Tonzeka called Satu, and together they walked over to the white man’s quarters, followed by a large number of people.

The white man had heard of the proposed visit, and with the help of boxes and rugs had prepared seats for the coming visitors.

Satu, however, before trusting himself to the improvised chair, lifted the rug, shook the box to test its stability, and then gingerly took his seat. There was more than a rumour afloat that the King of Congo had murdered his mother by inviting her to sit on a mat which gave way beneath her. It had precipitated her, it was said, into a carefully prepared hole, and directly the wretched woman disappeared, the unnatural son ordered her to be buried alive.

The white man was fully conscious of Satu’s implied distrust, but said nothing; and Tonzeka pompously introduced Satu and some of the head men who had accompanied him.

During the speech Satu sat uneasily on his seat, casting furtive glances at the slim, kindly-faced white man before him. After all he did not look so terrible that a whole town should go frantic with fear of him.

When Tonzeka had concluded his speech the white man replied: “I am so glad to see Satu, for I have often heard of him, and a few weeks agoI went to visit him, but through some silly prejudice he would not give me hospitality, and sent me and my people to sleep in the damp with the mosquitoes at the bottom of his hill. Since then I have heard that some of his people wanted to kill me, but he would not let them;” and leaning forward he took Satu’s hand in his, and said: “I thank you very much for not only saving my life, but the lives of those who were with me. There was a lad who struck at my outstretched hand. This afternoon he came for medicine for a bad cut on his arm, thinking I did not know him. There he is, standing with the firelight full on his face. Will he not shake hands and be friends?”

And, rising, the white man went with outstretched hand to Bakula, who with much trepidation put his hand nervously into the very hand at which he had so cruelly aimed a heavy blow. In broken sentences Bakula begged forgiveness, which was freely given.

Everybody now felt thoroughly at home with each other, especially when Satu had cordially invited the white man to visit him, promising better hospitality next time; and the white man heartily accepted the invitation, promising, on his part, to come soon. Then came a long series of questions about Mputu (the countries of the white man); and while the white man told them of the greathouses with many rooms, the innumerable streets, the broad roads, the trams, horses, and the size of the cities and towns, the audience sat with wide-eyed astonishment, broken only by the snapping of fingers and exclamations of surprise.

At last one boy put their thoughts into words by asking if the white man was speaking the truth; because, said he: “We have always believed that you white folk live underneath the sea.”

“Why do you think that?” laughingly asked the white man.

“For two very good reasons,” asserted the boy, rather aggressively. He did not like being laughed at before all the others, for he was only stating what they all believed.

“State your reasons,” said the white man kindly, for he saw that the boy was hurt by his laughter.

Encouraged thus, the boy said: "When we stand on the shore at Ambrezette, or at any other of the trading-stations on the sea-coast, we see the ships come in, and what do we notice first? Not the big part of the ship at the bottom (the hull), but the stick at the top (the mast), and when the ship has discharged all its goods on the beach, and filled up again with palm-oil, rubber, ivory, palm-kernels and peanuts, it goes away, and the part that we see last is the topmost post. Ofcourse it comes up out of the sea. That is why we first notice the top of the ‘stick,’ and it goes down into the sea; that is why the top of the ‘stick’ is last seen."

“Yes, that is very good! What is your second reason?” asked the white man.

“The second reason is this: all we people who live on the earth have curly hair; but all you white folk, because you live under the sea, have straight hair. That is because the action of the water has taken all the curl out of your hair.”

The white man with much difficulty suppressed his laughter, and proceeded to give them a simple lesson on the rotundity of the earth. They had all seen eclipses of the moon, and starting from that fact, and using his candle and various articles on the table as his apparatus, he tried to show them that only round objects threw round shadows on the wall of the adjacent house. They were interested, and pretended to be convinced, but how many of them went to bed that night still believing in the flatness of the earth he never knew.

Then came a series of questions, not prompted by impertinence, but by a healthy and natural curiosity. Questions such as: “Is there plenty of food in your country? How many wives have you in Mputu? Were you once as little as our babies?Have you a mother, father, brothers and sisters? Did they turn you out of your country because you are a bad man? How do you make matches? Who makes the cloth and the different articles we see in the traders’ stores? How do you make candles, soap, boots, and from what are they made? Why are you white and we black?” The white man patiently answered these questions to the best of his ability; but I noticed that whenever possible he worked his answers round to God’s palaver--he told them how a thing was made, that they themselves could make it, and would, by this time, have found out how to make it, only their witch-doctors taught them that anything new, anything out of the ordinary, anything that showed skill, was the result of witchcraft, and hence they killed off their wise and clever men; and lastly, "God’s palaver, when it enters the heart, sets them free from all their superstitious fear of thengangas, and gives true wisdom and guidance."

It was now far into the night, and Satu was about to rise when the white man said: “It is very late, and I have attempted to answer your many questions. Now I am going to ask you all as a favour to stay while we have prayers.”

Satu very courteously thanked the white man for taking so much trouble and for telling them so many wonderful things. They would willinglystay to prayers and listen while the white man talked to God; but “Excuse us now, we are tired, and must go to sleep.” The white man looked sadly disappointed, but bade us “to go and sleep well.”

As we were returning to our quarters some one asked Satu: “Why did you not stay for prayers?”

“I was afraid the white man’s God would bewitch me; or that the white man himself might do so,” answered Satu. That night Bakula could not sleep, but frequently I heard him murmur: “He dressed my wound with the same hand I tried to strike.”

During the next morning Bakula and a few of the young men went to greet the white man, whom they found busy washing and dressing sores, and dispensing medicine to the sick. Bakula shyly went forward to have his wound dressed, and when it was finished the white man asked his name; but Bakula, filled with fear, gave his Santu name[35]--Dom Pedro. “No, I don’t want your Santu,” said the white man, “but your proper name. Do you still distrust me? Never mind, tell me when you know me better.”

“I will tell you now,” he replied. “I will not doubt you any more. My name is Bakula.”

When the white man had finished his medicalwork we all sat down for another talk, and I noticed that Bakula sat very close to his white friend’s chair, and hesitatingly he put the following question: “You tell us your country is very beautiful; that there is plenty to eat; that your parents and brothers and sisters are living there; that you were not turned out for being a bad man. Why, therefore, have you come to this country, with its rough roads, its swamps, and its fevers?”

Then the white man unfolded before Bakula and his companions the wonderful story of Jesus Christ, from the time He left heaven on His mission of Redemption, until He returned to heaven the Author of eternal salvation. The audience listened attentively to this delightfully strange story, and Bakula, looking up, exclaimed in surprised tones--

“Why, Jesus Christ was just like you! He left all for us, the same as you have done.”

The white man was strangely and deeply moved as he replied--

“No, Jesus Christ did not copy me, but I try day by day to imitate Him. It is for His sake, Bakula, that I forgave you, and have tried to return good for evil, love for hate, and am willing to die that you all may hear and believe in His great salvation.”

After a little more conversation they separated,Bakula and his friends returning to their huts solemnized, for a time, by what they had seen and heard; and the white man, calling a few of his lads, went, with his medicines and his message of God’s love, to spend a few hours in a neighbouring village.

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