CASSELL’S NATIONAL
LIBRARY

Travels
in the
Interior of Africa

BY

MUNGO PARK

Vol.
II.

CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited:

LONDON,
PARIS, NEW YORK
& MELBOURNE.

1887.

INTRODUCTION.

The first of the two volumes which
contain Mungo Park’s “Travels in the Interior of
Africa” brought him through many perils to the first sight
of the Niger, and left him sick and solitary, stripped of nearly
all that he possessed, a half-starved white man on a half-starved
horse.  He was helped on by a bag of cowries from a kindly
chief; but in this volume he has not advanced far before he is
stripped of all.

There is not in the range of English literature a more
interesting traveller’s tale than was given to the world in
this book which this volume completes.  It took the deeper
hold upon its readers, because it appeared at a time when English
hearts began to be stirred by the wrongs of slavery.  But at
any time there would be strong human interest in the unconscious
painting of the writer’s character, as he makes his way
over far regions in which no white man had before been seen, with
firm resolve and with good temper as well as courage and
prudence, which bring him safe through many a hair-breadth
escape.  There was a true kindness in Mungo Park that found
answering kindness and brought out the spirit of humanity in
those upon whose goodwill his life depends; in the negroes often,
although never in the Moors.  There was no flinching in the
man, who, when robbed of his horse, stripped to the shirt in a
forest and left upon a lion’s track, looked down with a
botanist’s eye on the beauty of a tiny moss at his feet,
drew comfort from it, and laboured on with quiet faith in
God.  The same eye was as quick to recognise the diverse
characters of men.  In Mungo Park shrewd humour and right
feeling went together.  Whatever he had to say he said
clearly and simply; and it went straight home.  He had the
good fortune to be born before “picturesque writing”
was invented.  When we return to the Gambia with Mungo Park
under the same escort with a coffle of slaves on their way to be
shipped for the use of Christians, from the strength of his
unlaboured narrative we get clear knowledge unclouded by a
rainbow mist of words.  He is of one blood with the sailors
in whom Hakluyt delighted.

CHAPTER XVI.
VILLAGES ON THE NIGER—DETERMINES TO
GO NO FARTHER EASTWARD.

Being, in the manner that has been
related, compelled to leave Sego, I was conducted the same
evening to a village about seven miles to the eastward, with some
of the inhabitants of which my guide was acquainted, and by whom
we were well received. [7]  He was very
friendly and communicative, and spoke highly of the hospitality
of his countrymen, but withal told me that if Jenné was
the place of my destination, which he seemed to have hitherto
doubted, I had undertaken an enterprise of greater danger than
probably I was apprised of; for, although the town of
Jenné was nominally a part of the king of Bambarra’s
dominions, it was in fact, he said, a city of the Moors—the
leading part of the inhabitants being bushreens, and even the
governor himself, though appointed by Mansong, of the same
sect.  Thus was I in danger of falling a second time into
the hands of men who would consider it not only justifiable, but
meritorious, to destroy me, and this reflection was aggravated by
the circumstance that the danger increased as I advanced in my
journey, for I learned that the places beyond Jenné were
under the Moorish influence in a still greater degree than
Jenné itself, and Timbuctoo, the great object of my
search, altogether in possession of that savage and merciless
people, who allow no Christian to live there.  But I had now
advanced too far to think of returning to the westward on such
vague and uncertain information, and determined to proceed; and
being accompanied by the guide, I departed from the village on
the morning of the 24th.  About eight o’clock we
passed a large town called Kabba, situated in the midst of a
beautiful and highly cultivated country, bearing a greater
resemblance to the centre of England than to what I should have
supposed had been the middle of Africa.  The people were
everywhere employed in collecting the fruit of shea trees, from
which they prepare the vegetable butter mentioned in former parts
of this work.  These trees grow in great abundance all over
this part of Bambarra.  They are not planted by the natives,
but are found growing naturally in the woods; and in clearing
woodland for cultivation every tree is cut down but the
shea.  The tree itself very much resembles the American oak,
and the fruit—from the kernel of which, being first dried
in the sun, the butter is prepared by boiling the kernel in
water—has somewhat the appearance of a Spanish olive. 
The kernel is enveloped in a sweet pulp, under a thin green rind;
and the butter produced from it, besides the advantage of its
keeping the whole year without salt, is whiter, firmer, and, to
my palate, of a richer flavour, than the best butter I ever
tasted made from cow’s milk.  The growth and
preparation of this commodity seem to be among the first objects
of African industry in this and the neighbouring states, and it
constitutes a main article of their inland commerce.

We passed, in the course of the day, a great many villages
inhabited chiefly by fishermen, and in the evening about five
o’clock arrived at Sansanding, a very large town,
containing, as I was told, from eight to ten thousand
inhabitants.  This place is much resorted to by the Moors,
who bring salt from Berroo, and beads and coral from the
Mediterranean, to exchange here for gold dust and cotton
cloth.  This cloth they sell to great advantage in Berroo,
and other Moorish countries, where, on account of the want of
rain, no cotton is cultivated.

I desired my guide to conduct me to the house in which we were
to lodge by the most private way possible.  We accordingly
rode along between the town and the river, passing by a creek or
harbour, in which I observed twenty large canoes, most of them
fully loaded, and covered with mats to prevent the rain from
injuring the goods.  As we proceeded, three other canoes
arrived, two with passengers and one with goods.  I was
happy to find that all the negro inhabitants took me for a Moor,
under which character I should probably have passed unmolested,
had not a Moor, who was sitting by the river-side, discovered the
mistake, and, setting up a loud exclamation, brought together a
number of his countrymen.

When I arrived at the house of Counti Mamadi, the dooty of the
town, I was surrounded with hundreds of people speaking a variety
of different dialects, all equally unintelligible to me.  At
length, by the assistance of my guide, who acted as interpreter,
I understood that one of the spectators pretended to have seen me
at one place, and another at some other place; and a Moorish
woman absolutely swore that she had kept my house three years at
Gallam, on the river Senegal.  It was plain that they
mistook me for some other person, and I desired two of the most
confident to point towards the place where they had seen
me.  They pointed due south; hence I think it probable that
they came from Cape Coast, where they might have seen many white
men.  Their language was different from any I had yet
heard.  The Moors now assembled in great number, with their
usual arrogance, compelling the negroes to stand at a
distance.  They immediately began to question me concerning
my religion, but finding that I was not master of Arabic, they
sent for two men, whom they call Ilhuidi (Jews), in hopes
that they might be able to converse with me.  These Jews, in
dress and appearance, very much resemble the Arabs; but though
they so far conform to the religion of Mohammed as to recite in
public prayers from the Koran, they are but little respected by
the negroes; and even the Moors themselves allowed that, though I
was a Christian, I was a better man than a Jew.  They
however insisted that, like the Jews, I must conform so far as to
repeat the Mohammedan prayers; and when I attempted to waive the
subject by telling them that I could not speak Arabic, one of
them, a shereef from Tuat, in the Great Desert, started up and
swore by the Prophet that if I refused to go to the mosque, he
would be one that would assist in carrying me thither; and there
is no doubt that this threat would have been immediately executed
had not my landlord interposed on my behalf.  He told them
that I was the king’s stranger, and he could not see me
ill-treated whilst I was under his protection.  He therefore
advised them to let me alone for the night, assuring them that in
the morning I should be sent about my business.  This
somewhat appeased their clamour, but they compelled me to ascend
a high seat by the door of the mosque, in order that everybody
might see me, for the people had assembled in such numbers as to
be quite ungovernable, climbing upon the houses, and squeezing
each other, like the spectators at an execution.  Upon this
seat I remained until sunset, when I was conducted into a neat
little hut, with a small court before it, the door of which
Counti Mamadi shut, to prevent any person from disturbing
me.  But this precaution could not exclude the Moors. 
They climbed over the top of the mud wall, and came in crowds
into the court, “in order,” they said, “to see
me perform my evening devotions, and eat
eggs.”  The former of these ceremonies I did not
think proper to comply with, but I told them I had no objection
to eat eggs, provided they would bring me eggs to eat.  My
landlord immediately brought me seven hen’s eggs, and was
much surprised to find that I could not eat them raw; for it
seems to be a prevalent opinion among the inhabitants of the
interior that Europeans subsist almost entirely on this
diet.  When I had succeeded in persuading my landlord that
this opinion was without foundation, and that I would gladly
partake of any victuals which he might think proper to send me,
he ordered a sheep to be killed, and part of it to be dressed for
my supper.  About midnight, when the Moors had left me, he
paid me a visit, and with much earnestness desired me to write
him a saphie.  “If a Moor’s saphie is
good,” said this hospitable old man, “a white
man’s must needs be better.”  I readily
furnished him with one, possessed of all the virtues I could
concentrate, for it contained the Lord’s Prayer.  The
pen with which it was written was made of a reed; a little
charcoal and gum-water made very tolerable ink, and a thin board
answered the purpose of paper.

July 25.—Early in the morning, before the Moors
were assembled, I departed from Sansanding, and slept the ensuing
night at a small town called Sibili, from whence on the day
following I reached Nyara, a large town at some distance from the
river, where I halted the 27th, to have my clothes washed, and
recruit my horse.  The dooty there has a very commodious
house, flat-roofed, and two storeys high.  He showed me some
gunpowder of his own manufacturing; and pointed out, as a great
curiosity, a little brown monkey that was tied to a stake by the
door, telling me that it came from a far distant country called
Kong.

July 28.—I departed from Nyara, and reached
Nyamee about noon.  This town is inhabited chiefly by
Foulahs from the kingdom of Masina.  The dooty, I know not
why, would not receive me, but civilly sent his son on horseback
to conduct me to Modiboo, which he assured me was at no great
distance.

We rode nearly in a direct line through the woods, but in
general went forwards with great circumspection.  I observed
that my guide frequently stopped and looked under the
bushes.  On inquiring the reason of this caution he told me
that lions were very numerous in that part of the country, and
frequently attacked people travelling through the woods. 
While he was speaking, my horse started, and looking round, I
observed a large animal of the camelopard kind standing at a
little distance.  The neck and fore-legs were very long; the
head was furnished with two short black horns, turning backwards;
the tail, which reached down to the ham joint, had a tuft of hair
at the end.  The animal was of a mouse colour, and it
trotted away from us in a very sluggish manner—moving its
head from side to side, to see if we were pursuing it. 
Shortly after this, as we were crossing a large open plain, where
there were a few scattered bushes, my guide, who was a little way
before me, wheeled his horse round in a moment, calling out
something in the Foulah language which I did not
understand.  I inquired in Mandingo what he meant;
“Wara billi billi!” (“A very large
lion!”) said he, and made signs for me to ride away. 
But my horse was too much fatigued; so we rode slowly past the
bush from which the animal had given us the alarm.  Not
seeing anything myself, however, I thought my guide had been
mistaken, when the Foulah suddenly put his hand to his mouth,
exclaiming, “Soubah an allahi!” (“God
preserve us!”) and, to my great surprise, I then perceived
a large red lion, at a short distance from the bush, with his
head couched between his forepaws.  I expected he would
instantly spring upon me, and instinctively pulled my feet from
my stirrups to throw myself on the ground, that my horse might
become the victim rather than myself.  But it is probable
the lion was not hungry; for he quietly suffered us to pass,
though we were fairly within his reach.  My eyes were so
riveted upon this sovereign of the beasts that I found it
impossible to remove them until we were at a considerable
distance.  We now took a circuitous route through some
swampy ground, to avoid any more of these disagreeable
encounters.  At sunset we arrived at Modiboo—a
delightful village on the banks of the Niger, commanding a view
of the river for many miles both to the east and west.  The
small green islands (the peaceful retreat of some industrious
Foulahs, whose cattle are here secure from the depredations of
wild beasts) and the majestic breadth of the river, which is here
much larger than at Sego, render the situation one of the most
enchanting in the world.  Here are caught great plenty of
fish, by means of long cotton nets, which the natives make
themselves, and use nearly in the same manner as nets are used in
Europe.  I observed the head of a crocodile lying upon one
of the houses, which they told me had been killed by the
shepherds in a swamp near the town.  These animals are not
uncommon in the Niger, but I believe they are not oftentimes
found dangerous.  They are of little account to the
traveller when compared with the amazing swarms of mosquitoes,
which rise from the swamps and creeks in such numbers as to
harass even the most torpid of the natives; and as my clothes
were now almost worn to rags, I was but ill prepared to resist
their attacks.  I usually passed the night without shutting
my eyes, walking backwards and forwards, fanning myself with my
hat; their stings raised numerous blisters on my legs and arms,
which, together with the want of rest, made me very feverish and
uneasy.

July 29.—Early in the morning, my landlord,
observing that I was sickly, hurried me away, sending a servant
with me as a guide to Kea.  But though I was little able to
walk, my horse was still less able to carry me; and about six
miles to the east of Modiboo, in crossing some rough clayey
ground, he fell, and the united strength of the guide and myself
could not place him again upon his legs.  I sat down for
some time beside this worn-out associate of my adventures, but
finding him still unable to rise, I took off the saddle and
bridle, and placed a quantity of grass before him.  I
surveyed the poor animal, as he lay panting on the ground, with
sympathetic emotion, for I could not suppress the sad
apprehension that I should myself, in a short time, lie down and
perish in the same manner, of fatigue and hunger.  With this
foreboding I left my poor horse, and with great reluctance
followed my guide on foot along the bank of the river until about
noon, when we reached Kea, which I found to be nothing more than
a small fishing village.  The dooty, a surly old man, who
was sitting by the gate, received me very coolly; and when I
informed him of my situation, and begged his protection, told me
with great indifference that he paid very little attention to
fine speeches, and that I should not enter his house.  My
guide remonstrated in my favour, but to no purpose, for the dooty
remained inflexible in his determination.  I knew not where
to rest my wearied limbs, but was happily relieved by a fishing
canoe belonging to Silla, which was at that moment coming down
the river.  The dooty waved to the fisherman to come near,
and desired him to take charge of me as far as Moorzan.  The
fisherman, after some hesitation, consented to carry me, and I
embarked in the canoe in company with the fisherman, his wife,
and a boy.  The negro who had conducted me from Modiboo now
left me.  I requested him to look to my horse on his return,
and take care of him if he was still alive, which he promised to
do.

Departing from Kea, we proceeded about a mile down the river,
when the fisherman paddled the canoe to the bank and desired me
to jump out.  Having tied the canoe to a stake, he stripped
off his clothes, and dived for such a length of time that I
thought he had actually drowned himself, and was surprised to see
his wife behave with so much indifference upon the occasion; but
my fears were over when he raised up his head astern of the canoe
and called for a rope.  With this rope he dived a second
time, and then got into the canoe and ordered the boy to assist
him in pulling.  At length they brought up a large basket,
about ten feet in diameter, containing two fine fish, which the
fisherman—after returning the basket into the
water—immediately carried ashore and hid in the
grass.  We then went a little farther down and took up
another basket, in which was one fish.  The fisherman now
left us to carry his prizes to some neighbouring market, and the
woman and boy proceeded with me in the canoe down the river.

About four o’clock we arrived at Moorzan, a fishing town
on the northern bank, from whence I was conveyed across the river
to Silla, a large town, where I remained until it was quite dark,
under a tree, surrounded by hundreds of people.

With a great deal of entreaty the dooty allowed me to come
into his baloon to avoid the rain, but the place was very damp,
and I had a smart paroxysm of fever during the night.  Worn
down by sickness, exhausted with hunger and fatigue, half-naked,
and without any article of value by which I might procure
provisions, clothes, or lodging, I began to reflect seriously on
my situation.  I was now convinced, by painful experience,
that the obstacles to my farther progress were
insurmountable.  The tropical rains were already set in with
all their violence—the rice grounds and swamps were
everywhere overflowed—and in a few days more, travelling of
every kind, unless by water, would be completely
obstructed.  The kowries which remained of the king of
Bambarra’s present were not sufficient to enable me to hire
a canoe for any great distance, and I had but little hopes of
subsisting by charity in a country where the Moors have such
influence.  But, above all, I perceived that I was advancing
more and more within the power of those merciless fanatics, and,
from my reception both at Sego and Sansanding, I was apprehensive
that, in attempting to reach even Jenné (unless under the
protection of some man of consequence amongst them, which I had
no means of obtaining), I should sacrifice my life to no purpose,
for my discoveries would perish with me.  The prospect
either way was gloomy.  In returning to the Gambia, a
journey on foot of many hundred miles presented itself to my
contemplation, through regions and countries unknown. 
Nevertheless, this seemed to be the only alternative, for I saw
inevitable destruction in attempting to proceed to the
eastward.  With this conviction on my mind I hope my readers
will acknowledge that I did right in going no farther.

Having thus brought my mind, after much doubt and perplexity,
to a determination to return westward, I thought it incumbent on
me, before I left Silla, to collect from the Moorish and negro
traders all the information I could concerning the farther course
of the Niger eastward, and the situation and extent of the
kingdoms in its vicinage; and the following few notices I
received from such various quarters as induce me to think they
are authentic:—

Two short days’ journey to the eastward of Silla is the
town of Jenné, which is situated on a small island in the
river, and is said to contain a greater number of inhabitants
than Sego itself, or any other town in Bambarra.  At the
distance of two days more, the river spreads into a considerable
lake, called Dibbie (or the Dark Lake), concerning the extent of
which all the information I could obtain was that in crossing it
from west to east the canoes lose sight of land one whole
day.  From this lake the water issues in many different
streams, which terminate in two large branches, one whereof flows
towards the north-east, and the other to the east; but these
branches join at Kabra, which is one day’s journey to the
southward of Timbuctoo, and is the port or shipping-place of that
city.  The tract of land which the two streams encircle is
called Jinbala, and is inhabited by negroes; and the whole
distance by land from Jenné to Timbuctoo is twelve
days’ journey.

From Kabra, at the distance of eleven days’ journey down
the stream, the river passes to the southward of Houssa, which is
two days’ journey distant from the river.  Of the
farther progress of this great river, and its final exit, all the
natives with whom I conversed seemed to be entirely
ignorant.  Their commercial pursuits seldom induce them to
travel farther than the cities of Timbuctoo and Houssa, and as
the sole object of those journeys is the acquirement of wealth,
they pay little attention to the course of rivers or the
geography of countries.  It is, however, highly probable
that the Niger affords a safe and easy communication between very
remote nations.  All my informants agreed that many of the
negro merchants who arrive at Timbuctoo and Houssa from the
eastward speak a different language from that of Bambarra, or any
other kingdom with which they are acquainted But even these
merchants, it would seem, are ignorant of the termination of the
river, for such of them as can speak Arabic describe the amazing
length of its course in very general terms, saying only that they
believe it runs to the world’s end.

The names of many kingdoms to the eastward of Houssa are
familiar to the inhabitants of Bambarra.  I was shown
quivers and arrows of very curious workmanship, which I was
informed came from the kingdom of Kassina.

On the northern bank of the Niger, at a short distance from
Silla, is the kingdom of Masina, which is inhabited by
Foulahs.  They employ themselves there, as in other places,
chiefly in pasturage, and pay an annual tribute to the king of
Bambarra for the lands which they occupy.

To the north-east of Masina is situated the kingdom of
Timbuctoo, the great object of European research—the
capital of this kingdom being one of the principal marts for that
extensive commerce which the Moors carry on with the
negroes.  The hopes of acquiring wealth in this pursuit, and
zeal for propagating their religion, have filled this extensive
city with Moors and Mohammedan converts.  The king himself
and all the chief officers of state are Moors; and they are said
to be more severe and intolerant in their principles than any
other of the Moorish tribes in this part of Africa.  I was
informed by a venerable old negro, that when he first visited
Timbuctoo, he took up his lodging at a sort of public inn, the
landlord of which, when he conducted him into his hut, spread a
mat on the floor, and laid a rope upon it, saying, “If you
are a Mussulman, you are my friend—sit down; but if you are
a kafir, you are my slave, and with this rope I will lead you to
market.”  The present king of Timbuctoo is named Abu
Abrahima.  He is reported to possess immense riches. 
His wives and concubines are said to be clothed in silk, and the
chief officers of state live in considerable splendour.  The
whole expense of his government is defrayed, as I was told, by a
tax upon merchandise, which is collected at the gates of the
city.

The city of Houssa (the capital of a large kingdom of the same
name, situated to the eastward of Timbuctoo), is another great
mart for Moorish commerce.  I conversed with many merchants
who had visited that city, and they all agreed that it is
larger—and more populous than Timbuctoo.  The trade,
police, and government are nearly the same in both; but in Houssa
the negroes are in greater proportion to the Moors, and have some
share in the government.

Concerning the small kingdom of Jinbala I was not able to
collect much information.  The soil is said to be remarkably
fertile, and the whole country so full of creeks and swamps that
the Moors have hitherto been baffled in every attempt to subdue
it.  The inhabitants are negroes, and some of them are said
to live in considerable affluence, particularly those near the
capital, which is a resting-place for such merchants as transport
goods from Timbuctoo to the western parts of Africa.

To the southward of Jinbala is situated the negro kingdom of
Gotto, which is said to be of great extent.  It was formerly
divided into a number of petty states, which were governed by
their own chiefs; but their private quarrels invited invasion
from the neighbouring kingdoms.  At length a politic chief
of the name of Moossee had address enough to make them unite in
hostilities against Bambarra; and on this occasion he was
unanimously chosen general—the different chiefs consenting
for a time to act under his command.  Moossee immediately
despatched a fleet of canoes, loaded with provisions, from the
banks of the lake Dibbie up the Niger towards Jenné, and
with the whole of his army pushed forwards into Bambarra. 
He arrived on the bank of the Niger opposite to Jenné
before the townspeople had the smallest intimation of his
approach.  His fleet of canoes joined him the same day, and
having landed the provisions, he embarked part of his army, and
in the night took Jenné by storm.  This event so
terrified the king of Bambarra that he sent messengers to sue for
peace; and in order to obtain it consented to deliver to Moossee
a certain number of slaves every year, and return everything that
had been taken from the inhabitants of Gotto.  Moossee, thus
triumphant, returned to Gotto, where he was declared king, and
the capital of the country is called by his name.

On the west of Gotto is the kingdom of Baedoo, which was
conquered by the present king of Bambarra about seven years ago,
and has continued tributary to him ever since.

West of Baedoo is Maniana, the inhabitants of which, according
to the best information I was able to collect, are cruel and
ferocious—carrying their resentment towards their enemies
so far as never to give quarter, and even to indulge themselves
with unnatural and disgusting banquets of human flesh.

CHAPTER XVII.
MOORZAN TO TAFFARA.

Having, for the reasons assigned in
the last chapter, determined to proceed no farther eastward than
Silla, I acquainted the dooty with my intention of returning to
Sego, proposing to travel along the southern side of the river;
but he informed me that, from the number of creeks and swamps on
that side, it was impossible to travel by any other route than
along the northern bank, and even that route, he said, would soon
be impassable on account of the overflowing of the river. 
However, as he commended my determination to return westward, he
agreed to speak to some one of the fishermen to carry me over to
Moorzan.  I accordingly stepped into a canoe about eight
o’clock in the morning of July 30th, and in about an hour
was landed at Moorzan.  At this place I hired a canoe for
sixty kowries, and in the afternoon arrived at Kea, where, for
forty kowries more, the dooty permitted me to sleep in the same
hut with one of his slaves.  This poor negro, perceiving
that I was sickly, and that my clothes were very ragged, humanely
lent me a large cloth to cover me for the night.

July 31.—The dooty’s brother being going to
Modiboo, I embraced the opportunity of accompanying him thither,
there being no beaten road.  He promised to carry my saddle,
which I had left at Kea, when my horse fell down in the woods, as
I now proposed to present it to the king of Bambarra.

We departed from Kea at eight o’clock, and about a mile
to the westward observed on the bank of the river a great number
of earthen jars piled up together.  They were very neatly
formed, but not glazed, and were evidently of that sort of
pottery which is manufactured at Downie (a town to the west of
Timbuctoo), and sold to great advantage in different parts of
Bambarra.  As we approached towards the jars my companion
plucked up a large handful of herbage, and threw it upon them,
making signs for me to do the same, which I did.  He then,
with great seriousness told me that these jars belonged to some
supernatural power; that they were found in their present
situation about two years ago; and as no person had claimed them,
every traveller as he passed them, from respect to the invisible
proprietor, threw some grass, or the branch of a tree, upon the
heap, to defend the jars from the rain.

Thus conversing, we travelled in the most friendly manner,
until unfortunately we perceived the footsteps of a lion, quite
fresh in the mud, near the river-side.  My companion now
proceeded with great circumspection; and at last, coming to some
thick underwood, he insisted that I should walk before him. 
I endeavoured to excuse myself, by alleging that I did not know
the road; but he obstinately persisted, and, after a few high
words and menacing looks, threw down the saddle and went
away.  This very much disconcerted me; but as I had given up
all hopes of obtaining a horse, I could not think of encumbering
myself with the saddle, and, taking off the stirrups and girths,
I threw the saddle into the river.  The negro no sooner saw
me throw the saddle into the water than he came running from
among the bushes where he had concealed himself, jumped into the
river, and by help of his spear, brought out the saddle and ran
away with it.  I continued my course along the bank; but as
the wood was remarkably thick, and I had reason to believe that a
lion was at no great distance, I became much alarmed, and took a
long circuit through the bushes to avoid him.

About four in the afternoon I reached Modiboo, where I found
my saddle.  The guide, who had got there before me, being
afraid that I should inform the king of his conduct, had brought
the saddle with him in a canoe.

While I was conversing with the dooty, and remonstrating
against the guide for having left me in such a situation, I heard
a horse neigh in one of the huts; and the dooty inquired with a
smile if I knew who was speaking to me.  He explained
himself by telling me that my horse was still alive, and somewhat
recovered from his fatigue; but he insisted that I should take
him along with me, adding that he had once kept a Moor’s
horse for four months, and when the horse had recovered and got
into good condition, the Moor returned and claimed it, and
refused to give him any reward for his trouble.

August 1.—I departed from Modiboo, driving my
horse before me, and in the afternoon reached Nyamee; where I
remained three days, during which time it rained without
intermission, and with such violence that no person could venture
out of doors.

August 5.—I departed from Nyamee; but the country
was so deluged that I was frequently in danger of losing the
road, and had to wade across the savannas for miles together,
knee-deep in water.  Even the corn ground, which is the
driest land in the country, was so completely flooded that my
horse twice stuck fast in the mud, and was not got out without
the greatest difficulty.

In the evening of the same day I arrived at Nyara, where I was
well received by the dooty; and as the 6th was rainy I did not
depart until the morning of the 7th; but the water had swelled to
such a height, that in many places the road was scarcely
passable, and though I waded breast-deep across the swamps I
could only reach a small village called Nemaboo, where however,
for a hundred kowries, I procured from some Foulahs plenty of
corn for my horse and milk for myself.

August 8.—The difficulties I had experienced the
day before made me anxious to engage a fellow-traveller,
particularly as I was assured that, in the course of a few days,
the country would be so completely overflowed as to render the
road utterly impassable; but though I offered two hundred kowries
for a guide, nobody would accompany me.  However, on the
morning following, August 9th, a Moor and his wife, riding upon
two bullocks, and bound for Sego with salt, passed the village,
and agreed to take me along with them; but I found them of little
service, for they were wholly unacquainted with the road, and
being accustomed to a sandy soil, were very bad travellers. 
Instead of wading before the bullocks to feel if the ground was
solid, the woman boldly entered the first swamp, riding upon the
top of the load; but when she had proceeded about two hundred
yards the bullock sunk into a hole, and threw both the load and
herself among the reeds.  The frightened husband stood for
some time seemingly petrified with horror, and suffered his wife
to be almost drowned before he went to her assistance.

About sunset we reached Sibity, but the dooty received me very
coolly; and when I solicited for a guide to Sansanding he told me
his people were otherwise employed.  I was shown into a damp
old hut, where I passed a very uncomfortable night; for when the
walls of the huts are softened by the rain they frequently become
too weak to support the weight of the roof.  I heard three
huts fall during the night, and was apprehensive that the hut I
lodged in would be the fourth.  In the morning, as I went to
pull some grass for my horse, I counted fourteen huts which had
fallen in this manner since the commencement of the rainy
season.

It continued to rain with great violence all the 10th; and as
the dooty refused to give me any provisions, I purchased some
corn, which I divided with my horse.

August 11.—The dooty compelled me to depart from
the town, and I set out for Sansanding without any great hopes of
faring better than I had done at Sibity; for I learned, from
people who came to visit me, that a report prevailed, and was
universally believed, that I had come to Bambarra as a spy; and
as Mansong had not admitted me into his presence, the dooties of
the different towns were at liberty to treat me in what manner
they pleased.  From repeatedly hearing the same story I had
no doubt of the truth of it; but as there was no alternative I
determined to proceed, and a little before sunset I arrived at
Sansanding.  My reception was what I expected.  Counti
Mamadi, who had been so kind to me formerly, scarcely gave me
welcome.  Every one wished to shun me; and my landlord sent
a person to inform me that a very unfavourable report was
received from Sego concerning me, and that he wished me to depart
early in the morning.  About ten o’clock at night
Counti Mamadi himself came privately to me, and informed me that
Mansong had despatched a canoe to Jenné to bring me back;
and he was afraid I should find great difficulty in going to the
west country.  He advised me therefore to depart from
Sansanding before daybreak, and cautioned me against stopping at
Diggani, or any town near Sego.

August 12.—I departed from Sansanding, and
reached Kabba in the afternoon.  As I approached the town I
was surprised to see several people assembled at the gate, one of
whom, as I advanced, came running towards me, and taking my horse
by the bridle, led me round the walls of the town, and then,
pointing to the west, told me to go along, or it would fare worse
with me.  It was in vain that I represented the danger of
being benighted in the woods, exposed to the inclemency of the
weather and the fury of wild beasts.  “Go
along!” was all the answer; and a number of people coming
up and urging me in the same manner, with great earnestness, I
suspected that some of the king’s messengers, who were sent
in search of me, were in the town, and that these negroes, from
mere kindness, conducted me past it with a view to facilitate my
escape.  I accordingly took the road for Sego, with the
uncomfortable prospect of passing the night on the branches of a
tree.  After travelling about three miles, I came to a small
village near the road.  The dooty was splitting sticks by
the gate, but I found I could have no admittance, and when I
attempted to enter, he jumped up, and with the stick he held in
his hand, threatened to strike me off the horse if I presumed to
advance another step.

At a little distance from this village (and further from the
road) is another small one.  I conjectured that, being
rather out of the common route, the inhabitants might have fewer
objections to give me house-room for the night; and having
crossed some cornfields, I sat down under a tree by the
well.  Two or three women came to draw water, and one of
them, perceiving I was a stranger, inquired whither I was
going.  I told her I was going for Sego, but being benighted
on the road, I wished to stay at the village until morning, and
begged she would acquaint the dooty with my situation.  In a
little time the dooty sent for me, and permitted me to sleep in a
large baloon.

August 13.—About ten o’clock I reached a
small village within half a mile of Sego, where I endeavoured,
but in vain, to procure some provisions.  Every one seemed
anxious to avoid me; and I can plainly perceive, by the looks and
behaviour of the inhabitants, that some very unfavourable
accounts had been circulated concerning me.  I was again
informed that Mansong had sent people to apprehend me, and the
dooty’s son told me I had no time to lose if I wished to
get safe out of Bambarra.  I now fully saw the danger of my
situation, and determined to avoid Sego altogether.  I
accordingly mounted my horse, and taking the road for Diggani,
travelled as fast as I could till I was out of sight of the
villagers, when I struck to the westward, through high grass and
swampy ground.  About noon I stopped under a tree to
consider what course to take, for I had now no doubt that the
Moors and slatees had misinformed the king respecting the object
of my mission, and that people were absolutely in search of me to
convey me a prisoner to Sego.  Sometimes I had thoughts of
swimming my horse across the Niger, and going to the southward
for Cape Coast, but reflecting that I had ten days to travel
before I should reach Kong, and afterwards an extensive country
to traverse, inhabited by various nations with whose language and
manners I was totally unacquainted, I relinquished this scheme,
and judged that I should better answer the purpose of my mission
by proceeding to the westward along the Niger, endeavouring to
ascertain how far the river was navigable in that
direction.  Having resolved upon this course, I proceeded
accordingly, and a little before sunset arrived at a Foulah
village called Sooboo, where, for two hundred kowries, I procured
lodging for the night.

August 14.—I continued my course along the bank
of the river, through a populous and well-cultivated
country.  I passed a walled town called Kamalia [35] without stopping, and at noon rode
through a large town called Samee, where there happened to be a
market, and a number of people assembled in an open place in the
middle of the town, selling cattle, cloth, corn, &c.  I
rode through the midst of them without being much observed, every
one taking me for a Moor.  In the afternoon I arrived at a
small village called Binni, where I agreed with the dooty’s
son, for one hundred kowries, to allow me to stay for the night;
but when the dooty returned, he insisted that I should instantly
leave the place, and if his wife and son had not interceded for
me, I must have complied.

August 15.—About nine o’clock I passed a
large town called Sai, which very much excited my
curiosity.  It is completely surrounded by two very deep
trenches, at about two hundred yards distant from the
walls.  On the top of the trenches are a number of square
towers, and the whole has the appearance of a regular
fortification.

About noon I came to the village of Kaimoo, situated upon the
bank of the river, and as the corn I had purchased at Sibili was
exhausted, I endeavoured to purchase a fresh supply, but was
informed that corn was become very scarce all over the country,
and though I offered fifty kowries for a small quantity, no
person would sell me any.  As I was about to depart,
however, one of the villagers (who probably mistook me for some
Moorish shereef) brought me some as a present, only desiring me
to bestow my blessing upon him, which I did in plain English, and
he received it with a thousand acknowledgments.  Of this
present I made my dinner, and it was the third successive day
that I had subsisted entirely upon raw corn.

In the evening I arrived at a small village called Song, the
surly inhabitants of which would not receive me, nor so much as
permit me to enter the gate; but as lions were very numerous in
this neighbourhood, and I had frequently, in the course of the
day, observed the impression of their feet on the road, I
resolved to stay in the vicinity of the village.  Having
collected some grass for my horse, I accordingly lay down under a
tree by the gate.  About ten o’clock I heard the
hollow roar of a lion at no great distance, and attempted to open
the gate, but the people from within told me that no person must
attempt to enter the gate without the dooty’s
permission.  I begged them to inform the dooty that a lion
was approaching the village, and I hoped he would allow me to
come within the gate.  I waited for an answer to this
message with great anxiety, for the lion kept prowling round the
village, and once advanced so very near me that I heard him
rustling among the grass, and climbed the tree for safety. 
About midnight the dooty, with some of his people, opened the
gate, and desired me to come in.  They were convinced, they
said, that I was not a Moor, for no Moor ever waited any time at
the gate of a village without cursing the inhabitants.

August 16.—About ten o’clock I passed a
considerable town, with a mosque, called Jabbee.  Here the
country begins to rise into hills, and I could see the summits of
high mountains to the westward.  About noon I stopped at a
small village near Yamina, where I purchased some corn, and dried
my papers and clothes.

The town of Yamina at a distance has a very fine
appearance.  It covers nearly the same extent of ground as
Sansanding, but having been plundered by Daisy, king of Kaarta,
about four years ago, it has not yet resumed its former
prosperity, nearly one-half of the town being nothing but a heap
of ruins.  However, it is still a considerable place, and is
so much frequented by the Moors that I did not think it safe to
lodge in it, but in order to satisfy myself respecting its
population and extent, I resolved to ride through it, in doing
which I observed a great many Moors sitting upon the bentangs,
and other places of public resort.  Everybody looked at me
with astonishment, but as I rode briskly along they had no time
to ask questions.

I arrived in the evening at Farra, a walled village, where,
without much difficulty, I procured a lodging for the night.

August 17.—Early in the morning I pursued my
journey, and at eight o’clock passed a considerable town
called Balaba, after which the road quits the plain, and
stretches along the side of the hill.  I passed in the
course of this day the ruins of three towns, the inhabitants of
which were all carried away by Daisy, king of Kaarta, on the same
day that he took and plundered Yamina.  Near one of these
ruins I climbed a tamarind-tree, but found the fruit quite green
and sour, and the prospect of the country was by no means
inviting, for the high grass and bushes seemed completely to
obstruct the road, and the low lands were all so flooded by the
river, that the Niger had the appearance of an extensive
lake.  In the evening I arrived at Kanika, where the dooty,
who was sitting upon an elephant’s hide at the gate,
received me kindly, and gave me for supper some milk and meal,
which I considered (as to a person in my situation it really was)
a very great luxury.

August 18.—By mistake I took the wrong road, and
did not discover my error until I had travelled nearly four
miles, when, coming to an eminence, I observed the Niger
considerably to the left.  Directing my course towards it, I
travelled through long grass and bushes with great difficulty
until two o’clock in the afternoon, when I came to a
comparatively small but very rapid river, which I took at first
for a creek, or one of the streams of the Niger.  However,
after I had examined it with more attention, I was convinced that
it was a distinct river, and as the road evidently crossed it
(for I could see the pathway on the opposite side), I sat down
upon the bank in hopes that some traveller might arrive who would
give me the necessary information concerning the
fording-place—for the banks were so covered with reeds and
bushes that it would have been almost impossible to land on the
other side, except at the pathway, which, on account of the
rapidity of the stream, it seemed very difficult to reach. 
No traveller however arriving, and there being a great appearance
of rain, I examined the grass and bushes for some way up the
bank, and determined upon entering the river considerably above
the pathway, in order to reach the other side before the stream
had swept me too far down.  With this view I fastened my
clothes upon the saddle, and was standing up to the neck in
water, pulling my horse by the bridle to make him follow me,
when a man came accidentally to the place, and seeing me in the
water, called to me with great vehemence to come out.  The
alligators, he said, would devour both me and my horse, if we
attempted to swim over.  When I had got out, the stranger,
who had never before seen a European, seemed wonderfully
surprised.  He twice put his hand to his mouth, exclaiming,
in a low tone of voice, “God preserve me! who is
this?” but when he heard me speak the Bambarra tongue, and
found that I was going the same way as himself, he promised to
assist me in crossing the river, the name of which he said was
Frina.  He then went a little way along the bank, and called
to some person, who answered from the other side.  In a
short time a canoe with two boys came paddling from among the
reeds.  These boys agreed for fifty kowries to transport me
and my horse over the river, which was effected without much
difficulty, and I arrived in the evening at Taffara, a walled
town, and soon discovered that the language of the natives was
improved from the corrupted dialect of Bambarra to the pure
Mandingo.

CHAPTER XVIII.
DESPAIRING THOUGHTS—ARRIVAL AT
SIBIDOOLOO.

On my arrival at Taffara I inquired
for the dooty, but was informed that he had died a few days
before my arrival, and that there was at that moment a meeting of
the chief men for electing another, there being some dispute
about the succession.  It was probably owing to this
unsettled state of the town that I experienced such a want of
hospitality in it, for though I informed the inhabitants that I
should only remain with them for one night, and assured them that
Mansong had given me some kowries to pay for my lodging, yet no
person invited me to come in, and I was forced to sit alone under
the bentang-tree, exposed to the rain and wind of a tornado,
which lasted with great violence until midnight.  At this
time the stranger who had assisted me in crossing the river paid
me a visit, and observing that I had not found a lodging, invited
me to take part of his supper, which he had brought to the door
of his hut; for, being a guest himself, he could not, without his
landlord’s consent, invite me to come in.  After this
I slept upon some wet grass in the corner of a court.  My
horse fared still worse than myself, the corn I purchased being
all expended, and I could not procure a supply.

August 20.—I passed the town of Jaba, and stopped
a few minutes at a village called Somino, where I begged and
obtained some coarse food, which the natives prepare from the
husks of corn, and call boo.  About two o’clock
I came to the village of Sooha, and endeavoured to purchase some
corn from the dooty, who was sitting by the gate, but without
success.  I then requested a little food by way of charity,
but was told he had none to spare.  Whilst I was examining
the countenance of this inhospitable old man, and endeavouring to
find out the cause of the sullen discontent which was visible in
his eye, he called to a slave who was working in the cornfield at
a little distance, and ordered him to bring his hoe along with
him.  The dooty then told him to dig a hole in the ground,
pointing to a spot at no great distance.  The slave, with
his hoe, began to dig a pit in the earth, and the dooty, who
appeared to be a man of very fretful disposition, kept muttering
and talking to himself until the pit was almost finished, when he
repeatedly pronounced the words “dankatoo”
(“good for nothing”)—“jankra
lemen” (“a real plague”)—which
expressions I thought could be applied to nobody but myself; and
as the pit had very much the appearance of a grave, I thought it
prudent to mount my horse, and was about to decamp, when the
slave, who had before gone into the village, to my surprise
returned with the corpse of a boy about nine or ten years of age,
quite naked.  The negro carried the body by a leg and an
arm, and threw it into the pit with a savage indifference which I
had never before seen.  As he covered the body with earth,
the dooty often expressed himself, “naphula
attiniata” (“money lost”), whence I
concluded that the boy had been one of his slaves.

Departing from this shocking scene, I travelled by the side of
the river until sunset, when I came to Koolikorro, a considerable
town, and a great market for salt.  Here I took up my
lodging at the house of a Bambarran, who had formerly been the
slave of a Moor, and in that character had travelled to Aroan,
Towdinni, and many other places in the Great Desert; but turning
Mussulman, and his master dying at Jenné, he obtained his
freedom and settled at this place, where he carries on a
considerable trade in salt, cotton cloth, &c.  His
knowledge of the world had not lessened that superstitious
confidence in saphies and charms which he had imbibed in his
earlier years, for when he heard that I was a Christian, he
immediately thought of procuring a saphie, and for this purpose
brought out his walha, or writing-board, assuring me that
he would dress me a supper of rice if I would write him a saphie
to protect him from wicked men.  The proposal was of too
great consequence to me to be refused.  I therefore wrote
the board full, from top to bottom, on both sides; and my
landlord, to be certain of having the whole force of the charm,
washed the writing from the board into a calabash with a little
water, and having said a few prayers over it, drank this powerful
draught; after which, lest a single word should escape, he licked
the board until it was quite dry.  A saphie-writer was a man
of too great consequence to be long concealed; the important
information was carried to the dooty, who sent his son with half
a sheet of writing-paper, desiring me to write him a naphula
saphie (a charm to procure wealth).  He brought me, as a
present, some meal and milk, and when I had finished the saphie,
and read it to him with an audible voice, he seemed highly
satisfied with his bargain, and promised to bring me in the
morning some milk for my breakfast.  When I had finished my
supper of rice and salt, I laid myself down upon a
bullock’s hide, and slept very quietly until morning, this
being the first good meal and refreshing sleep that I had enjoyed
for a long time.

August 21.—At daybreak I departed from
Koolikorro, and about noon passed the villages of Kayoo and
Toolumbo.  In the afternoon I arrived at Marraboo, a large
town, and, like Koolikorro, famous for its trade in salt.  I
was conducted to the house of a Kaartan, of the tribe of Jower,
by whom I was well received.  This man had acquired a
considerable property in the slave-trade, and, from his
hospitality to strangers, was called, by way of pre-eminence,
jatee (the landlord), and his house was a sort of public
inn for all travellers.  Those who had money were well
lodged, for they always made him some return for his kindness,
but those who had nothing to give were content to accept whatever
he thought proper; and as I could not rank myself among the
moneyed men, I was happy to take up my lodging in the same hut
with seven poor fellows who had come from Kancaba in a
canoe.  But our landlord sent us some victuals.

August 22—One of the landlord’s servants
went with me a little way from the town to show me what road to
take, but, whether from ignorance or design I know not, he
directed me wrong, and I did not discover my mistake until the
day was far advanced, when, coming to a deep creek, I had some
thoughts of turning back, but as by that means I foresaw that I
could not possibly reach Bammakoo before night, I resolved to
cross it, and, leading my horse close to the brink, I went behind
him and pushed him headlong into the water, and then taking the
bridle in my teeth, swam over to the other side.  About four
o’clock in the afternoon, having altered my course from the
river towards the mountains, I came to a small pathway which led
to a village called Frookaboo, where I slept.

August 23—Early in the morning I set out for
Bammakoo, at which place I arrived about five o’clock in
the afternoon.  I had heard Bammakoo much talked of as a
great market for salt, and I felt rather disappointed to find it
only a middling town, not quite so large as Marraboo; however,
the smallness of its size is more than compensated by the
richness of its inhabitants, for when the Moors bring their salt
through Kaarta or Bambarra, they constantly rest a few days at
this place, and the negro merchants here, who are well acquainted
with the value of salt in different kingdoms, frequently purchase
by wholesale, and retail it to great advantage.  Here I
lodged at the house of a Serawoolli negro, and was visited by a
number of Moors.  They spoke very good Mandingo, and were
more civil to me than their countrymen had been.  One of
them had travelled to Rio Grande, and spoke very highly of the
Christians.  He sent me in the evening some boiled rice and
milk.  I now endeavoured to procure information concerning
my route to the westward from a slave merchant who had resided
some years on the Gambia.  He gave me some imperfect account
of the distance, and enumerated the names of a great many places
that lay in the way, but withal told me that the road was
impassable at this season of the year: he was even afraid, he
said, that I should find great difficulty in proceeding any
farther; as the road crossed the Joliba at a town about half a
day’s journey to the westward of Bammakoo, and there being
no canoes at that place large enough to receive my horse, I could
not possibly get him over for some months to come.  This was
an obstruction of a very serious nature; but as I had no money to
maintain myself even for a few days, I resolved to push on, and
if I could not convey my horse across the river, to abandon him,
and swim over myself.  In thoughts of this nature I passed
the night, and in the morning consulted with my landlord how I
should surmount the present difficulty.  He informed me that
one road still remained, which was indeed very rocky, and
scarcely passable for horses, but that if I had a proper guide
over the hills to a town called Sibidooloo, he had no doubt but
with patience and caution I might travel forwards through
Manding.  I immediately applied to the dooty, and was
informed that a jilli kea (singing man) was about to
depart for Sibidooloo, and would show me the road over the
hills.  With this man, who undertook to be my conductor, I
travelled up a rocky glen about two miles, when we came to a
small village, and here my musical fellow-traveller found out
that he had brought me the wrong road.  He told me that the
horse-road lay on the other side of the hill, and throwing his
drum on his back, mounted up the rocks where, indeed, no horse
could follow him, leaving me to admire his agility, and trace out
a road for myself.  As I found it impossible to proceed, I
rode back to the level ground, and directing my course to the
eastward, came about noon to another glen, and discovered a path
on which I observed the marks of horses’ feet. 
Following this path I came in a short time to some
shepherds’ huts, where I was informed that I was in the
right road, but that I could not possibly reach Sibidooloo before
night.

A little before sunset I descended on the north-west side of
this ridge of hills, and as I was looking about for a convenient
tree under which to pass the night (for I had no hopes of
reaching any town) I descended into a delightful valley, and soon
afterwards arrived at a romantic village called Kooma.  This
village is surrounded by a high wall, and is the sole property of
a Mandingo merchant, who fled hither with his family during a
former war.  The adjacent fields yield him plenty of corn,
his cattle roam at large in the valley, and the rocky hills
secure him from the depredations of war.  In this obscure
retreat he is seldom visited by strangers, but whenever this
happens he makes the weary traveller welcome.  I soon found
myself surrounded by a circle of the harmless villagers. 
They asked a thousand questions about my country, and, in return
for my information, brought corn and milk for myself, and grass
for my horse, kindled a fire in the hut where I was to sleep, and
appeared very anxious to serve me.

August 25.—I departed from Kooma, accompanied by
two shepherds who were going towards Sibidooloo.  The road
was very steep and rocky, and as my horse had hurt his feet much
in coming from Bammakoo, he travelled slowly and with great
difficulty, for in many places the ascent was so sharp, and the
declivities so great, that if he had made one false step he must
inevitably have been dashed to pieces.  The shepherds being
anxious to proceed, gave themselves little trouble about me or my
horse, and kept walking on at a considerable distance.  It
was about eleven o’clock, as I stopped to drink a little
water at a rivulet (my companions being near a quarter of a mile
before me), that I heard some people calling to each other, and
presently a loud screaming, as from a person in great
distress.  I immediately conjectured that a lion had taken
one of the shepherds, and mounted my horse to have a better view
of what had happened.  The noise, however, ceased, and I
rode slowly towards the place from whence I thought it had
proceeded, calling out, but without receiving any answer. 
In a little time, however, I perceived one of the shepherds lying
among the long grass near the road, and though I could see no
blood upon him, I concluded he was dead.  But when I came
close to him, he whispered to me to stop, telling me that a party
of armed men had seized upon his companion, and shot two arrows
at himself as he was making his escape.  I stopped to
consider what course to take, and looking round, saw at a little
distance a man sitting upon the stump of a tree.  I
distinguished also the heads of six or seven more, sitting among
the grass, with muskets in their hands.  I had now no hopes
of escaping, and therefore determined to ride forward towards
them.  As I approached them, I was in hopes they were
elephant-hunters; and by way of opening the conversation inquired
if they had shot anything, but without returning an answer one of
them ordered me to dismount, and then, as if recollecting
himself, waved with his hand for me to proceed.  I
accordingly rode past, and had with some difficulty crossed a
deep rivulet, when I heard somebody holloa, and looking behind,
saw those I had taken for elephant-hunters running after me, and
calling out to me to turn back.  I stopped until they were
all come up, when they informed me that the king of the Foulahs
had sent them on purpose to bring me, my horse, and everything
that belonged to me, to Fooladoo, and that therefore I must turn
back and go along with them.  Without hesitating a moment, I
turned round and followed them, and we travelled together nearly
a quarter of a mile without exchanging a word; when, coming to a
dark place in a wood, one of them said in the Mandingo language,
“This place will do,” and immediately snatched my hat
from my head.  Though I was by no means free of
apprehension, yet I resolved to show as few signs of fear as
possible, and therefore told them that unless my hat was returned
to me I should proceed no farther.  But before I had time to
receive an answer another drew his knife, and seizing upon a
metal button which remained upon my waistcoat, cut it off and put
it into his pocket.  Their intentions were obvious, and I
thought that the easier they were permitted to rob me of
everything, the less I had to fear.  I therefore allowed
them to search my pockets without resistance, and examine every
part of my apparel, which they did with the most scrupulous
exactness.  But observing that I had one waistcoat under
another, they insisted that I should cast them both off; and at
last, to make sure work, they stripped me quite naked.  Even
my half-boots (though the sole of one of them was tied on to my
foot with a broken bridle rein) were minutely inspected. 
Whilst they were examining the plunder, I begged them, with great
earnestness, to return my pocket-compass; but when I pointed it
out to them as it was lying on the ground, one of the banditti,
thinking I was about to take it up, cocked his musket, and swore
that he would lay me dead upon the spot if I presumed to put my
hand upon it.  After this, some of them went away with my
horse, and the remainder stood considering whether they should
leave me quite naked, or allow me something to shelter me from
the sun.  Humanity at last prevailed; they returned me the
worst of the two shirts and a pair of trousers; and, as they went
away, one of them threw back my hat, in the crown of which I kept
my memorandums, and this was probably the reason they did not
wish to keep it.  After they were gone, I sat for some time
looking round me with amazement and terror.  Whichever way
I turned, nothing appeared but danger and difficulty.  I saw
myself in the midst of a vast wilderness, in the depth of the
rainy season—naked and alone, surrounded by savage animals,
and men still more savage.  I was five hundred miles from
the nearest European settlement.  All these circumstances
crowded at once on my recollection, and I confess that my spirits
began to fail me.  I considered my fate as certain, and that
I had no alternative but to lie down and perish.  The
influence of religion, however, aided and supported me.  I
reflected that no human prudence or foresight could possibly have
averted my present sufferings.  I was indeed a stranger in a
strange land, yet I was still under the protecting eye of that
Providence who has condescended to call Himself the
stranger’s Friend.  At this moment, painful as my
reflections were, the extraordinary beauty of a small moss in
fructification irresistibly caught my eye.  I mention this
to show from what trifling circumstances the mind will sometimes
derive consolation; for though the whole plant was not larger
than the top of one of my fingers, I could not contemplate the
delicate conformation of its roots, leaves, and capsula without
admiration.  Can that Being, thought I, who planted,
watered, and brought to perfection, in this obscure part of the
world, a thing which appears of so small importance, look with
unconcern upon the situation and sufferings of creatures formed
after His own image?  Surely not!  Reflections like
these would not allow me to despair.  I started up, and,
disregarding both hunger and fatigue, travelled forwards, assured
that relief was at hand; and I was not disappointed.  In a
short time I came to a small village, at the entrance of which I
overtook the two shepherds who had come with me from Kooma. 
They were much surprised to see me; for they said they never
doubted that the Foulahs, when they had robbed, had murdered
me.  Departing from this village, we travelled over several
rocky ridges, and at sunset arrived at Sibidooloo, the frontier
town of the kingdom of Manding.

CHAPTER XIX.
ILLNESS AT KAMALIA AND KINDNESS OF THE
NATIVES.

The town of Sibidooloo is situated
in a fertile valley, surrounded with high, rocky hills.  It
is scarcely accessible for horses, and during the frequent wars
between the Bambarrans, Foulahs, and Mandingoes has never once
been plundered by an enemy.  When I entered the town, the
people gathered round me and followed me into the baloon, where I
was presented to the dooty or chief man, who is here called
mansa, which usually signifies king.  Nevertheless, it
appeared to me that the government of Manding was a sort of
republic, or rather an oligarchy—every town having a
particular mansa, and the chief power of the state, in the last
resort, being lodged in the assembly of the whole body.  I
related to the mansa the circumstances of my having been robbed
of my horse and apparel; and my story was confirmed by the two
shepherds.  He continued smoking his pipe all the time I was
speaking; but I had no sooner finished, than, taking his pipe
from his mouth, and tossing up the sleeve of his cloak with an
indignant air—“Sit down,” said he; “you
shall have everything restored to you; I have sworn
it:”—and then turning to an attendant, “Give
the white man,” said he, “a draught of water; and
with the first light of the morning go over the hills, and inform
the dooty of Bammakoo that a poor white man, the king of
Bambarra’s stranger, has been robbed by the king of
Fooladoo’s people.”

I little expected, in my forlorn condition, to meet with a man
who could thus feel for my sufferings.  I heartily thanked
the mansa for his kindness, and accepted his invitation to remain
with him until the return of the messenger.  I was conducted
into a hut and had some victuals sent me, but the crowd of people
which assembled to see me—all of whom commiserated my
misfortunes, and vented imprecations against the
Foulahs—prevented me from sleeping until past
midnight.  Two days I remained without hearing any
intelligence of my horse or clothes; and as there was at this
time a great scarcity of provisions, approaching even to famine,
all over this part of the country, I was unwilling to trespass
any farther on the mansa’s generosity, and begged
permission to depart to the next village.  Finding me very
anxious to proceed, he told me that I might go as far as a town
called Wonda, where he hoped I would remain a few days until I
heard some account of my horse, etc.

I departed accordingly on the next morning, the 28th, and
stopped at some small villages for refreshment.  I was
presented at one of them with a dish which I had never before
seen.  It was composed of the blossoms or
antheræ of the maize, stewed in milk and
water.  It is eaten only in time of great scarcity.  On
the 30th, about noon, I arrived at Wonda, a small town with a
mosque, and surrounded by a high wall.  The mansa, who was a
Mohammedan, acted in two capacities—as chief magistrate of
the town, and schoolmaster to the children.  He kept his
school in an open shed, where I was desired to take up my lodging
until some account should arrive from Sibidooloo concerning my
horse and clothes; for though the horse was of little use to me,
yet the few clothes were essential, The little raiment upon me
could neither protect me from the sun by day, nor the dews and
mosquitoes by night: indeed, my shirt was not only worn thin like
a piece of muslin, but withal so very dirty that I was happy to
embrace an opportunity of washing it, which having done, and
spread it upon a bush, I sat down naked in the shade until it was
dry.

Ever since the commencement of the rainy season my health had
been greatly on the decline.  I had often been affected with
slight paroxysms of fever; and from the time of leaving Bammakoo
the symptoms had considerably increased.  As I was sitting
in the manner described, the fever returned with such violence
that it very much alarmed me; the more so as I had no medicine to
stop its progress, nor any hope of obtaining that care and
attention which my situation required.

I remained at Wonda nine days, during which time I experienced
the regular return of the fever every day.  And though I
endeavoured as much as possible to conceal my distress from my
landlord, and frequently lay down the whole day out of his sight,
in a field of corn—conscious how burdensome I was to him
and his family in a time of such great scarcity—yet I found
that he was apprised of my situation; and one morning, as I
feigned to be asleep by the fire, he observed to his wife that
they were likely to find me a very troublesome and chargeable
guest; for that, in my present sickly state, they should be
obliged, for the sake of their good name, to maintain me until I
recovered or died.

The scarcity of provisions was certainly felt at this time
most severely by the poor people, as the following circumstance
most painfully convinced me:—Every evening during my stay I
observed five or six women come to the mansa’s house, and
receive each of them a certain quantity of corn.  As I knew
how valuable this article was at this juncture, I inquired of the
mansa whether he maintained these poor women from pure bounty, or
expected a return when the harvest should be gathered in. 
“Observe that boy,” said he (pointing to a fine child
about five years of age); “his mother has sold him to me
for forty days’ provision for herself and the rest of her
family.  I have bought another boy in the same
manner.”  Good God! thought I, what must a mother
suffer before she sells her own child!  I could not get this
melancholy subject out of my mind; and the next night, when the
women returned for their allowance, I desired the boy to point
out to me his mother, which he did.  She was much emaciated,
but had nothing cruel or savage in her countenance; and when she
had received her corn, she came and talked to her son with as
much cheerfulness as if he had still been under her care.

September 6.—Two people arrived from Sibidooloo,
bringing with them my horse and clothes; but I found that my
pocket-compass was broken to pieces.  This was a great loss,
which I could not repair.

September 7.—As my horse was grazing near the
brink of a well the ground gave way and he fell in.  The
well was about ten feet in diameter, and so very deep that when I
saw my horse snorting in the water I thought it was impossible to
save him.  The inhabitants of the village, however,
immediately assembled, and having tied together a number of
withes, [58] they lowered a man down into the well,
who fastened those withes round the body of the horse; and the
people, having first drawn up the man, took hold of the withes
and, to my surprise, pulled the horse out with the greatest
facility.  The poor animal was now reduced to a mere
skeleton, and the roads were scarcely passable, being either very
rocky, or else full of mud and water.  I therefore found it
impracticable to travel with him any farther, and was happy to
leave him in the hands of one who, I thought, would take care of
him.  I accordingly presented him to my landlord, and
desired him to send my saddle and bridle as a present to the
mansa of Sibidooloo, being the only return I could make him for
having taken so much trouble in procuring my horse and
clothes.

I now thought it necessary, sick as I was, to take leave of my
hospitable landlord.  On the morning of September 8th, when
I was about to depart, he presented me with his spear, as a token
of remembrance, and a leather bag to contain my clothes. 
Having converted my half-boots into sandals, I travelled with
more ease, and slept that night at a village called
Ballanti.  On the 9th I reached Nemacoo; but the mansa of
the village thought fit to make me sup upon the chameleon’s
dish.  By way of apology, however, he assured me the next
morning that the scarcity of corn was such that he could not
possibly allow me any.  I could not accuse him of
unkindness, as all the people actually appeared to be
starving.

September 10.—It rained hard all day, and the
people kept themselves in their huts.  In the afternoon I
was visited by a negro, named Modi Lemina Taura, a great trader,
who, suspecting my distress, brought me some victuals, and
promised to conduct me to his own house at Kinyeto the day
following.

September 11.—I departed from Nemacoo, and
arrived at Kinyeto in the evening; but having hurt my ankle in
the way, it swelled and inflamed so much that I could neither
walk nor set my foot to the ground the next day without great
pain.  My landlord, observing this, kindly invited me to
stop with him a few days, and I accordingly remained at his house
until the 14th, by which time I felt much relieved, and could walk
with the help of a staff.  I now set out, thanking my
landlord for his great care and attention; and being accompanied
by a young man who was travelling the same way, I proceeded for
Jerijang, a beautiful and well-cultivated district, the mansa of
which is reckoned the most powerful chief of any in Manding.

On the 15th I reached Dosita, a large town, where I stayed one
day on account of the rain; but I continued very sickly, and was
slightly delirious in the night.  On the 17th I set out for
Mansia, a considerable town, where small quantities of gold are
collected.  The road led over a high, rocky hill, and my
strength and spirits were so much exhausted that before I could
reach the top of the hill I was forced to lie down three times,
being very faint and sickly.  I reached Mansia in the
afternoon.  The mansa of this town had the character of
being very inhospitable; he, however, sent me a little corn for
my supper, but demanded something in return; and when I assured
him that I had nothing of value in my possession, he told me (as
if in jest) that my white skin should not defend me if I told him
lies.  He then showed me the hut wherein I was to sleep, but
took away my spear, saying that it should be returned to me in
the morning.  This trifling circumstance, when joined to the
character I had heard of the man, made me rather suspicious of
him, and I privately desired one of the inhabitants of the place,
who had a bow and a quiver, to sleep in the same hut with
me.  About midnight I heard somebody approach the door, and,
observing the moonlight strike suddenly into the hut, I started
up and saw a man stepping cautiously over the threshold.  I
immediately snatched up the negro’s bow and quiver, the
rattling of which made the man withdraw; and my companion,
looking out, assured me that it was the mansa himself, and
advised me to keep awake until the morning.  I closed the
door, and placed a large piece of wood behind it, and was
wondering at this unexpected visit, when somebody pressed so hard
against the door that the negro could scarcely keep it shut; but
when I called to him to open the door, the intruder ran off as
before.

September 16.—As soon as it was light the negro,
at my request, went to the mansa’s house and brought away
my spear.  He told me that the mansa was asleep, and lest
this inhospitable chief should devise means to detain me, he
advised me to set out before he was awake, which I immediately
did, and about two o’clock reached Kamalia, a small town
situated at the bottom of some rocky hills, where the inhabitants
collect gold in considerable quantities.

On my arrival at Kamalia I was conducted to the house of a
bushreen named Karfa Taura, the brother of him to whose
hospitality I was indebted at Kinyeto.  He was collecting a
coffle of slaves, with a view to sell them to the Europeans on
the Gambia as soon as the rains should be over.  I found him
sitting in his baloon, surrounded by several slatees who proposed
to join the coffle.  He was reading to them from an Arabic
book, and inquired with a smile if I understood it.  Being
answered in the negative, he desired one of the slatees to fetch
the little curious book which had been brought from the west
country.  On opening this small volume I was surprised and
delighted to find it our Book of Common Prayer, and Karfa
expressed great joy to hear that I could read it; for some of the
slatees, who had seen the Europeans upon the coast, observing the
colour of my skin (which was now become very yellow from
sickness), my long beard, ragged clothes, and extreme poverty,
were unwilling to admit that I was a white man, and told Karfa
that they suspected I was some Arab in disguise.  Karfa,
however, perceiving that I could read this book, had no doubt
concerning me, and kindly promised me every assistance in his
power.  At the same time he informed me that it was
impossible to cross the Jallonka wilderness for many months yet
to come, as no less than eight rapid rivers, he said, lay in the
way.  He added that he intended to set out himself for
Gambia as soon as the rivers were fordable and the grass burnt,
and advised me to stay and accompany him.  He remarked that
when a caravan of the natives could not travel through the
country it was idle for a single white man to attempt it.  I
readily admitted that such an attempt was an act of rashness, but
I assured him that I had no alternative, for, having no money to
support myself, I must either beg my subsistence by travelling
from place to place, or perish for want.  Karfa now looked
at me with great earnestness, and inquired if I could eat the
common victuals of the country, assuring me he had never before
seen a white man.  He added that if I would remain with him
until the rains were over, he would give me plenty of victuals in
the meantime, and a hut to sleep in; and that after he had
conducted me in safety to the Gambia, I might then make him what
return I thought proper.  I asked him if the value of one
prime slave would satisfy him.  He answered in the
affirmative, and immediately ordered one of the huts to be swept
for my accommodation.  Thus was I delivered, by the friendly
care of this benevolent negro, from a situation truly
deplorable.  Distress and famine pressed hard upon me. 
I had before me the gloomy wilds of Jallonkadoo, where the
traveller sees no habitation for five successive days.  I
had observed at a distance the rapid course of the river
Kokoro.  I had almost marked out the place where I was
doomed, I thought, to perish, when this friendly negro stretched
out his hospitable hand for my relief.

In the hut which was appropriated for me I was provided with a
mat to sleep on, an earthen jar for holding water, and a small
calabash to drink out of; and Karfa sent me, from his own
dwelling, two meals a day, and ordered his slaves to supply me
with firewood and water.  But I found that neither the
kindness of Karfa nor any sort of accommodation could put a stop
to the fever which weakened me, and which became every day more
alarming.  I endeavoured as much as possible to conceal my
distress; but on the third day after my arrival, as I was going
with Karfa to visit some of his friends, I found myself so faint
that I could scarcely walk, and before we reached the place I
staggered and fell into a pit, from which the clay had been taken
to build one of the huts.  Karfa endeavoured to console me
with the hopes of a speedy recovery, assuring me that if I would
not walk out in the wet I should soon be well.  I determined
to follow his advice, and confine myself to my hut, but was still
tormented with the fever, and my health continued to be in a very
precarious state for five ensuing weeks.  Sometimes I could
crawl out of the hut, and sit a few hours in the open air; at
other times I was unable to rise, and passed the lingering hours
in a very gloomy and solitary manner.  I was seldom visited
by any person except my benevolent landlord, who came daily to
inquire after my health.

When the rains became less frequent, and the country began to
grow dry, the fever left me, but in so debilitated a condition
that I could scarcely stand upright; and it was with great
difficulty that I could carry my mat to the shade of a
tamarind-tree, at a short distance, to enjoy the refreshing smell
of the cornfields, and delight my eyes with a prospect of the
country.  I had the pleasure at length to find myself in a
state of convalescence, towards which the benevolent and simple
manners of the negroes, and the perusal of Karfa’s little
volume, greatly contributed.

In the meantime many of the slatees who reside at Kamalia
having spent all their money, and become in a great measure
dependent upon Karfa’s hospitality, beheld me with an eye
of envy, and invented many ridiculous and trifling stories to
lessen me in Karfa’s esteem.  And in the beginning of
December a Serawoolli slatee, with five slaves, arrived from
Sego; this man, too, spread a number of malicious reports
concerning me, but Karfa paid no attention to them, and continued
to show me the same kindness as formerly.  As I was one day
conversing with the slaves which this slatee had brought, one of
them begged me to give him some victuals.  I told him I was
a stranger, and had none to give.  He replied, “I gave
you victuals when you were hungry.  Have you forgot the man
who brought you milk at Karrankalla?  But,” added he
with a sigh, “the irons were not then upon my
legs!”  I immediately recollected him, and begged
some ground nuts from Karfa to give him, as a return for his
former kindness.

In the beginning of December, Karfa proposed to complete his
purchase of slaves, and for this purpose collected all the debts
which were owing to him in his own country; and on the 19th,
being accompanied by three slatees, he departed for Kancaba, a
large town on the banks of the Niger and a great
slave-market.  Most of the slaves who are sold at Kancaba
come from Bambarra; for Mansong, to avoid the expense and danger
of keeping all his prisoners at Sego, commonly sends them in
small parties to be sold at the different trading towns; and as
Kancaba is much resorted to by merchants it is always well
supplied with slaves, which are sent thither up the Niger in
canoes.  When Karfa departed from Kamalia he proposed to
return in the course of a month, and during his absence I was
left to the care of a good old bushreen, who acted as
schoolmaster to the young people of Kamalia.

CHAPTER XX.
NEGRO CUSTOMS.

The whole of my route, both in
going and returning, having been confined to a tract of country
bounded nearly by the 12th and 15th parallels of latitude, the
reader must imagine that I found the climate in most places
extremely hot, but nowhere did I feel the heat so intense and
oppressive as in the camp at Benowm, of which mention has been
made in a former place.  In some parts, where the country
ascends into hills, the air is at all times, comparatively cool;
yet none of the districts which I traversed could properly be
called mountainous.  About the middle of June the hot and
sultry atmosphere is agitated by violent gusts of wind (called
tornadoes), accompanied with thunder and rain.  These usher
in what is denominated “the rainy season,” which
continues until the month of November.  During this time the
diurnal rains are very heavy, and the prevailing winds are from
the south-west.  The termination of the rainy season is
likewise attended with violent tornadoes, after which the wind
shifts to the north-east, and continues to blow from that quarter
during the rest of the year.

When the wind sets in from the north-east it produces a
wonderful change in the face of the country.  The grass soon
becomes dry and withered, the rivers subside very rapidly, and
many of the trees shed their leaves.  About this period is
commonly felt the harmattan, a dry and parching wind
blowing from the north-east, and accompanied by a thick smoky
haze, through which the sun appears of a dull red colour. 
This wind in passing over the great desert of Sahara acquires a
very strong attraction for humidity, and parches up everything
exposed to its current.  It is, however, reckoned very
salutary, particularly to Europeans, who generally recover their
health during its continuance.  I experienced immediate
relief from sickness, both at Dr. Laidley’s and at Kamalia,
during the harmattan.  Indeed, the air during the rainy
season is so loaded with moisture that clothes, shoes, trunks,
and everything that is not close to the fire becomes damp and
mouldy, and the inhabitants may be said to live in a sort of
vapour-bath; but this dry wind braces up the solids, which were
before relaxed, gives a cheerful flow of spirits, and is even
pleasant to respiration.  Its ill effects are, that it
produces chaps in the lips, and afflicts many of the natives with
sore eyes.

Whenever the grass is sufficiently dry the negroes set it on
fire; but in Ludamar and other Moorish countries this practice is
not allowed, for it is upon the withered stubble that the Moors
feed their cattle until the return of the rains.  The
burning the grass in Manding exhibits a scene of terrific
grandeur.  In the middle of the night I could see the plains
and mountains, as far as my eye could reach, variegated with
lines of fire, and the light, reflected on the sky, made the
heavens appear in a blaze.  In the daytime pillars of smoke
were seen in every direction, while the birds of prey were
observed hovering round the conflagration, and pouncing down upon
the snakes, lizards, and other reptiles which attempted to escape
from the flames.  This annual burning is soon followed by a
fresh and sweet verdure, and the country is thereby rendered more
healthful and pleasant.

Of the most remarkable and important of the vegetable
productions mention has already been made; and they are nearly
the same in all the districts through which I passed.  It is
observable, however, that although many species of the edible
roots which grow in the West India Islands are found in Africa,
yet I never saw, in any part of my journey, either the
sugar-cane, the coffee, or the cocoa-tree, nor could I learn, on
inquiry, that they were known to the natives.  The
pine-apple and the thousand other delicious fruits which the
industry of civilised man (improving the bounties of nature) has
brought to so great perfection in the tropical climates of
America, are here equally unknown.  I observed, indeed, a
few orange and banana trees near the mouth of the Gambia, but
whether they were indigenous, or were formerly planted there by
some of the white traders, I could not positively learn.  I
suspect that they were originally introduced by the
Portuguese.

Concerning property in the soil, it appeared to me that the
lands in native woods were considered as belonging to the king,
or (where the government was not monarchical) to the state. 
When any individual of free condition had the means of
cultivating more land than he actually possessed, he applied to
the chief man of the district, who allowed him an extension of
territory, on condition of forfeiture if the lands were not
brought into cultivation by a given period.  The condition
being fulfilled, the soil became vested in the possessor, and,
for ought that appeared to me, descended his heirs.

The population, however, considering the extent and fertility
of the soil, and the ease with which lands are obtained, is not
very great in the countries which I visited.  I found many
extensive and beautiful districts entirely destitute of
inhabitants, and, in general, the borders of the different
kingdoms were either very thinly peopled or entirely
deserted.  Many places are likewise unfavourable to
population from being unhealthful.  The swampy banks of the
Gambia, the Senegal, and other rivers towards the coast, are of
this description.  Perhaps it is on this account chiefly
that the interior countries abound more with inhabitants than the
maritime districts; for all the negro nations that fell under my
observation, though divided into a number of petty independent
states, subsist chiefly by the same means, live nearly in the
same temperature, and possess a wonderful similarity of
disposition.  The Mandingoes, in particular, are a very
gentle race, cheerful in their dispositions, inquisitive,
credulous, simple, and fond of flattery.  Perhaps the most
prominent defect in their character was that insurmountable
propensity, which the reader must have observed to prevail in all
classes of them, to steal from me the few effects I was possessed
of.  For this part of their conduct no complete
justification can be offered, because theft is a crime in their
own estimation; and it must be observed that they are not
habitually and generally guilty of it towards each other.

On the other hand, as some counterbalance to this depravity in
their nature, allowing it to be such, it is impossible for me to
forget the disinterested charity and tender solicitude with which
many of these poor heathens (from the sovereign of Sego to the
poor women who received me at different times into their cottages
when I was perishing of hunger) sympathised with me in my
sufferings, relieved my distresses, and contributed to my
safety.  This acknowledgment, however, is perhaps more
particularly due to the female part of the nation.  Among
the men, as the reader must have seen, my reception, though
generally kind, was sometimes otherwise.  It varied
according to the various tempers of those to whom I made
application.  The hardness of avarice in some, and the
blindness of bigotry in others, had closed up the avenues to
compassion; but I do not recollect a single instance of
hard-heartedness towards me in the women.  In all my
wanderings and wretchedness I found them uniformly kind and
compassionate; and I can truly say, as my predecessor Mr. Ledyard
has eloquently said before me, “To a woman I never
addressed myself in the language of decency and friendship
without receiving a decent and friendly answer.  If I was
hungry or thirsty, wet or sick, they did not hesitate, like the
men, to perform a generous action.  In so free and so kind a
manner did they contribute to my relief, that if I was dry, I
drank the sweetest draught, and if hungry, I ate the coarsest
morsel with a double relish.”

It is surely reasonable to suppose that the soft and amiable
sympathy of nature, which was thus spontaneously manifested
towards me in my distress, is displayed by these poor people, as
occasion requires, much more strongly towards persons of their
own nation and neighbourhood, and especially when the objects of
their compassion are endeared to them by the ties of
consanguinity.  Accordingly the maternal affection (neither
suppressed by the restraints nor diverted by the solicitudes of
civilised life) is everywhere conspicuous among them, and creates
a correspondent return of tenderness in the child.  An
illustration of this has been already given.  “Strike
me,” said my attendant, “but do not curse my
mother.”  The same sentiment I found universally to
prevail, and observed in all parts of Africa that the greatest
affront which could be offered to a negro was to reflect on her
who gave him birth.

It is not strange that this sense of filial duty and affection
among the negroes should be less ardent towards the father than
the mother.  The system of polygamy, while it weakens the
father’s attachment by dividing it among the children of
different wives, concentrates all the mother’s jealous
tenderness to one point—the protection of her own
offspring.  I perceived with great satisfaction, too, that
the maternal solicitude extended, not only to the growth and
security of the person, but also, in a certain degree, to the
improvement of the mind of the infant; for one of the first
lessons in which the Mandingo women instruct their children is
the practice of truth.  The reader will probably
recollect the case of the unhappy mother whose son was murdered
by the Moorish banditti at Funingkedy.  Her only consolation
in her uttermost distress was the reflection that the poor boy,
in the course of his blameless life, had never told a
lie.  Such testimony from a fond mother on such an
occasion must have operated powerfully on the youthful part of
the surrounding spectators.  It was at once a tribute of
praise to the deceased and a lesson to the living.

The negro women suckle their children until they are able to
walk of themselves.  Three years’ nursing is not
uncommon, and during this period the husband devotes his whole
attention to his other wives.  To this practice it is owing,
I presume, that the family of each wife is seldom very
numerous.  Few women have more than five or six
children.  As soon as an infant is able to walk it is
permitted to run about with great freedom.  The mother is
not over solicitous to preserve it from slight falls and other
trifling accidents.  A little practice soon enables a child
to take care of itself, and experience acts the part of a
nurse.  As they advance in life the girls are taught to spin
cotton and to beat corn, and are instructed in other domestic
duties; and the boys are employed in the labours of the
field.  Both sexes, whether bushreens or kafirs, on
attaining the age of puberty, are circumcised.  This painful
operation is not considered by the kafirs so much in the light of
a religious ceremony as a matter of convenience and
utility.  They have, indeed, a superstitious notion that it
contributes to render the marriage state prolific.  The
operation is performed upon several young people at the same
time, all of whom are exempted from every sort of labour for two
months afterwards.  During this period they form a society
called solimana.  They visit the towns and villages
in the neighbourhood, where they dance and sing, and are well
treated by the inhabitants.  I had frequently, in the course
of my journey, observed parties of this description, but they
were all males.  I had, however, an opportunity of seeing a
female solimana at Kamalia.

In the course of this celebration it frequently happens that
some of the young women get married.  If a man takes a fancy
to any one of them, it is not considered as absolutely necessary
that he should make an overture to the girl herself.  The
first object is to agree with the parents concerning the
recompense to be given them for the loss of the company and
services of their daughter.  The value of two slaves is a
common price, unless the girl is thought very handsome, in which
case the parents will raise their demand very considerably. 
If the lover is rich enough, and willing to give the sum
demanded, he then communicates his wishes to the damsel; but her
consent is by no means necessary to the match, for if the parents
agree to it and eat a few kolla-nuts, which are
represented by the suitor as an earnest of the bargain, the young
lady must either have the man of their choice or continue
unmarried, for she cannot afterwards be given to another. 
If the parents should attempt it, the lover is then authorised by
the laws of the country to seize upon the girl as his
slave.  When the day for celebrating the nuptials is fixed
on, a select number of people are invited to be present at the
wedding—a bullock or goat is killed, and great plenty of
victuals is dressed for the occasion.  As soon as it is dark
the bride is conducted into a hut, where a company of matrons
assist in arranging the wedding-dress, which is always white
cotton, and is put on in such a manner as to conceal the bride
from head to foot.  Thus arrayed, she is seated upon a mat
in the middle of the floor, and the old women place themselves in
a circle round her.  They then give her a series of
instructions, and point out, with great propriety, what ought to
be her future conduct in life.  This scene of instruction,
however, is frequently interrupted by girls, who amuse the
company with songs and dances, which are rather more remarkable
for their gaiety than delicacy.  While the bride remains
within the hut with the women the bridegroom devotes his
attention to the guests of both sexes, who assemble without
doors, and by distributing among them small presents of
kolla-nuts, and seeing that every one partakes of the good cheer
which is provided, he contributes much to the general hilarity of
the evening.  When supper is ended, the company spend the
remainder of the night in singing and dancing, and seldom
separate until daybreak.  About midnight the bride is
privately conducted by the women into the hut which is to be her
future residence, and the bridegroom, upon a signal given,
retires from his company.

The negroes, as hath been frequently observed, whether
Mohammedan or pagan, allow a plurality of wives.  The
Mohammedans alone are by their religion confined to four, and as
the husband commonly pays a great price for each, he requires
from all of them the utmost deference and submission, and treats
them more like hired servants than companions.  They have,
however, the management of domestic affairs, and each in rotation
is mistress of the household, and has the care of dressing the
victuals, overlooking the female slaves, etc.  But though
the African husbands are possessed of great authority over their
wives I did not observe that in general they treat them with
cruelty, neither did I perceive that mean jealousy in their
dispositions which is so prevalent among the Moors.  They
permit their wives to partake of all public diversions, and this
indulgence is seldom abused, for though the negro women are very
cheerful and frank in their behaviour, they are by no means given
to intrigue—I believe that instances of conjugal infidelity
are not common.  When the wives quarrel among
themselves—a circumstance which, from the nature of their
situation, must frequently happen—the husband decides
between them, and sometimes finds it necessary to administer a
little corporal chastisement before tranquillity can be
restored.  But if any one of the ladies complains to the
chief of the town that her husband has unjustly punished her, and
shown an undue partiality to some other of his wives, the affair
is brought to a public trial.  In these palavers, however,
which are conducted chiefly by married men, I was informed that
the complaint of the wife is not always considered in a very
serious light, and the complainant herself is sometimes convicted
of strife and contention and left without remedy.  If she
murmurs at the decision of the court the magic rod of Mumbo Jumbo
soon puts an end to the business.

The children of the Mandingoes are not always named after
their relations, but frequently in consequence of some remarkable
occurrence.  Thus my landlord at Kamalia was called
Karfa, a word signifying to replace, because he was
born shortly after the death of one of his brothers.  Other
names are descriptive of good or bad qualities—as
Modi, a good man; Fadibba, father of the town,
etc.  Indeed, the very names of their towns have something
descriptive in them, as Sibidooloo, the town of
ciboa-trees; Kenneyeto, victuals here; Dosita, lift
your spoon.  Others appear to be given by way of
reproach—as Bammakoo, wash a crocodile;
Karrankalla, no cup to drink from, etc.  A child is
named when it is seven or eight days old.  The ceremony
commences by shaving the infant’s head; and a dish called
dega, made of pounded corn and sour milk, is prepared for
the guests.  If the parents are rich, a sheep or goat is
commonly added.  This feast is called ding koon lee
(the child’s head-shaving).  During my stay at Kamalia
I was present at four different feasts of this kind, and the
ceremony was the same in each, whether the child belonged to a
bushreen or a kafir.  The schoolmaster, who officiated as
priest on those occasions, and who is necessarily a bushreen,
first said a long prayer over the dega, during which every person
present took hold of the brim of the calabash with his right
hand.  After this the schoolmaster took the child in his
arms and said a second prayer, in which he repeatedly solicited
the blessing of God upon the child and upon all the
company.  When this prayer was ended he whispered a few
sentences in the child’s ear and spat three times in its
face, after which he pronounced its name aloud, and returned the
infant to the mother. [80]  This part of
the ceremony being ended, the father of the child divided the
dega into a number of balls, one of which he distributed to every
person present; and inquiry was then made if any person in the
town was dangerously sick, it being usual in such cases to send
the party a large portion of the dega, which is thought to
possess great medical virtues.

Among the negroes every individual, besides his own proper
name, has likewise a kontong, or surname, to denote the
family or clan to which he belongs.  Some of these families
are very numerous and powerful.  It is impossible to
enumerate the various kontongs which are found in
different parts of the country, though the knowledge of many of
them is of great service to the traveller; for as every negro
plumes himself upon the importance or the antiquity of his clan,
he is much flattered when he is addressed by his kontong.

Salutations among the negroes to each other when they meet are
always observed, but those in most general use among the kafirs
are, “Abbe haeretto,” “’E ning
seni,” “Anawari,” etc., all of which
have nearly the same meaning, and signify “Are you
well?” or to that effect.  There are likewise
salutations which are used at different times of the day, as
“E ning somo” (“Good morning”),
etc.  The general answer to all salutations is to repeat the
kontong of the person who salutes, or else to repeat the
salutation itself, first pronouncing the word marhaba
(“My friend”).

CHAPTER XXI.
RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND INDUSTRIES OF THE
MANDINGOES.

The Mandingoes and, I believe, the
negroes in general, have no artificial method of dividing
time.  They calculate the years by the number of rainy
seasons.  They portion the year into moons, and
reckon the days by so many suns.  The day they divide into
morning, midday, and evening; and farther subdivide it, when
necessary, by pointing to the sun’s place in the
heavens.  I frequently inquired of some of them what became
of the sun during the night, and whether we should see the same
sun, or a different one, in the morning; but I found that they
considered the question as very childish.  The subject
appeared to them as placed beyond the reach of human
investigation—they had never indulged a conjecture, nor
formed any hypothesis, about the matter.  The moon, by
varying her form, has more attracted their attention.  On
the first appearance of the new moon, which they look upon to be
newly created, the pagan natives, as well as Mohammedans, say a
short prayer; and this seems to be the only visible adoration
which the kafirs offer up to the Supreme Being.  This prayer
is pronounced in a whisper, the party holding up his hands before
his face: its purport (as I have been assured by many different
people) is to return thanks to God for His kindness through the
existence of the past moon, and to solicit a continuation of His
favour during that of the new one.  At the conclusion they
spit upon their hands and rub them over their faces.  This
seems to be nearly the same ceremony which prevailed among the
heathens in the days of Job. [82]

Great attention, however, is paid to the changes of this
luminary in its monthly course, and it is thought very unlucky to
begin a journey, or any other work of consequence, in the last
quarter.  An eclipse, whether of the sun or moon, is
supposed to be effected by witchcraft.  The stars are very
little regarded; and the whole study of astronomy appears to them
as a useless pursuit, and attended to by such persons only as
deal in magic.

Their notions of geography are equally puerile.  They
imagine that the world is an extended plain, the termination of
which no eye has discovered—it being, they say, overhung
with clouds and darkness.  They describe the sea as a large
river of salt water, on the farther shore of which is situated a
country called Tobaubo doo (the land of the white
people).  At a distance from Tobaubo doo they describe
another country, which they allege as inhabited by cannibals of
gigantic size, called komi.  This country they call
Jong sang doo (the land where the slaves are sold). 
But of all countries in the world their own appears to them as
the best, and their own people as the happiest, and they pity the
fate of other nations, who have been placed by Providence in less
fertile and less fortunate districts.

Some of the religious opinions of the negroes, though blended
with the weakest credulity and superstition, are not unworthy
attention.  I have conversed with all ranks and conditions
upon the subject of their faith, and can pronounce, without the
smallest shadow of doubt, that the belief of one God and of a
future state of reward and punishment is entire and universal
among them.  It is remarkable, however, that except on the
appearance of a new moon, as before related, the pagan natives do
not think it necessary to offer up prayers and supplications to
the Almighty.  They represent the Deity, indeed, as the
creator and preserver of all things, but in general they consider
Him as a being so remote and of so exalted a nature that it is
idle to imagine the feeble supplications of wretched mortals can
reverse the decrees and change the purposes of unerring
wisdom.  If they are asked for what reason then do they
offer up a prayer on the appearance of the new moon, the answer
is, that custom has made it necessary, they do it because their
fathers did it before them.  Such is the blindness of
unassisted nature!  The concerns of this world, they
believe, are committed by the Almighty to the superintendence and
direction of subordinate spirits, over whom they suppose that
certain magical ceremonies have great influence.  A white
fowl suspended to the branch of a particular tree, a
snake’s head or a few handfuls of fruit are offerings which
ignorance and superstition frequently present, to deprecate the
wrath, or to conciliate the favour, of these tutelary
agents.  But it is not often that the negroes make their
religious opinions the subject of conversation; when interrogated
in particular concerning their ideas of a future state, they
express themselves with great reverence, but endeavour to shorten
the discussion by observing, “Mo o mo inta
allo” (“No man knows anything about
it”).  They are content, they say, to follow the
precepts and examples of their forefathers through the various
vicissitudes of life, and when this world presents no objects of
enjoyment or of comfort they seem to look with anxiety towards
another, which they believe will be better suited to their
natures, but concerning which they are far from indulging vain
and delusive conjectures.

The Mandingoes seldom attain extreme old age.  At forty
most of them become grey-haired and covered with wrinkles, and
but few of them survive the age of fifty-five or sixty. 
They calculate the years of their lives, as I have already
observed, by the number of rainy seasons (there being but one
such in the year), and distinguish each year by a particular
name, founded on some remarkable occurrence which happened in
that year.  Thus they say the year of the Farbanna
war—the year of the Kaarta war—the year on
which Gadou was plundered, etc., etc.; and I have no doubt
that the year 1796 will in many places be distinguished by the
name of tobaubo tambi sang (the year the white man
passed), as such an occurrence would naturally form an epoch in
their traditional history.

But notwithstanding that longevity is uncommon among them, it
appeared to me that their diseases are but few in number. 
Their simple diet and active way of life preserve them from many
of those disorders which embitter the days of luxury and
idleness.  Fevers and fluxes are the most common and the
most fatal.  For these they generally apply saphies to
different parts of the body, and perform a great many other
superstitious ceremonies—some of which are indeed well
calculated to inspire the patient with the hope of recovery, and
divert his mind from brooding over his own danger—but I
have sometimes observed among them a more systematic mode of
treatment.  On the first attack of a fever, when the patient
complains of cold, he is frequently placed in a sort of
vapour-bath.  This is done by spreading branches of the
nauclea orientalis upon hot wood embers, and laying the
patient upon them, wrapped up in a large cotton cloth. 
Water is then sprinkled upon the branches, which, descending to
the hot embers, soon covers the patient with a cloud of vapour,
in which he is allowed to remain until the embers are almost
extinguished.  This practice commonly produces a profuse
perspiration, and wonderfully relieves the sufferer.

For the dysentery they use the bark of different trees reduced
to powder and mixed with the patient’s food; but this
practice is in general very unsuccessful.

The other diseases which prevail among the negroes are the
yaws, the elephantiasis, and a leprosy of
the very worst kind.  This last-mentioned complaint appears
at the beginning in scurfy spots upon different parts of the
body, which finally settle upon the hands or feet, where the skin
becomes withered, and, cracks in many places.  At length the
ends of the fingers swell and ulcerate, the discharge is acrid
and fetid, the nails drop off, and the bones of the fingers
become carious, and separate at the joints.  In this manner
the disease continues to spread, frequently until the patient
loses all his fingers and toes.  Even the hands and feet are
sometimes destroyed by this inveterate malady, to which the
negroes give the name of balla ou (incurable).

The guinea worm is likewise very common in certain
places, especially at the commencement of the rainy season. 
The negroes attribute this disease, which has been described by
many writers, to bad water, and allege that the people who drink
from wells are more subject to it than those who drink from
streams.  To the same cause they attribute the swelling of
the glands of the neck (goitres), which are very common in
some parts of Bambarra.  I observed also, in the interior
countries, a few instances of simple gonorrhœa, but
never the confirmed lues.  On the whole, it appeared
to me that the negroes are better surgeons than physicians. 
I found them very successful in their management of fractures and
dislocations, and their splints and bandages are simple and
easily removed.  The patient is laid upon a soft mat, and
the fractured limb is frequently bathed with cold water. 
All abscesses they open with the actual cautery, and the
dressings are composed of either soft leaves, shea butter, or
cow’s dung, as the case seems in their judgment to
require.  Towards the coast, where a supply of European
lancets can be procured, they sometimes perform phlebotomy, and
in cases of local inflammation a curious sort of cupping is
practised.  This operation is performed by making incisions
in the part, and applying to it a bullock’s horn with a
small hole in the end.  The operator then takes a piece of
bee’s wax in his mouth, and, putting his lips to the hole,
extracts the air from the horn, and by a dexterous use of his
tongue stops up the hole with the wax.  This method is found
to answer the purpose, and in general produces a plentiful
discharge.

When a person of consequence dies, the relations and
neighbours meet together and manifest their sorrow by loud and
dismal howlings.  A bullock or goat is killed for such
persons as come to assist at the funeral, which generally takes
place in the evening of the same day on which the party
died.  The negroes have no appropriate burial-places, and
frequently dig the grave in the floor of the deceased’s
hut, or in the shade of a favourite tree.  The body is
dressed in white cotton, and wrapped up in a mat.  It is
carried to the grave in the dusk of the evening by the
relations.  If the grave is without the walls of the town a
number of prickly bushes are laid upon it to prevent the wolves
from digging up the body; but I never observed that any stone was
placed over the grave as a monument or memorial.

Of their music and dances some account has incidentally been
given in different parts of my journal.  On the first of
these heads I have now to add a list of their musical
instruments, the principal of which are—the
koonting, a sort of guitar with three strings; the
korro, a large harp with eighteen strings; the
simbing, a small harp with seven strings; the
balafou, an instrument composed of twenty pieces of hard
wood of different lengths, with the shells of gourds hung
underneath to increase the sound; the tangtang, a drum
open at the lower end; and, lastly, the tabala, a large
drum, commonly used to spread an alarm through the country. 
Besides these, they make use of small flutes, bow-strings,
elephants’ teeth and bells; and at all their dances and
concerts clapping of hands appears to constitute a
necessary part of the chorus.

With the love of music is naturally connected a taste for
poetry; and fortunately for the poets of Africa they are in a
great measure exempted from that neglect and indigence which in
more polished countries commonly attend the votaries of the
Muses.  They consist of two classes; the most numerous are
the singing men, called jilli kea, mentioned in a
former part of my narrative.  One or more of these may be
found in every town.  They sing extempore songs in honour of
their chief men, or any other persons who are willing to give
“solid pudding for empty praise.”  But a nobler
part of their office is to recite the historical events of their
country; hence in war they accompany the soldiers to the field,
in order, by reciting the great actions of their ancestors, to
awaken in them a spirit of glorious emulation.  The other
class are devotees of the Mohammedan faith, who travel about the
country singing devout hymns and performing religious ceremonies,
to conciliate the favour of the Almighty, either in averting
calamity or insuring success to any enterprise.  Both
descriptions of these itinerant bards are much employed and
respected by the people, and very liberal contributions are made
for them.

The usual diet of the negroes is somewhat different in
different districts; in general the people of free condition
breakfast about daybreak upon gruel made of meal and water, with
a little of the fruit of the tamarind to give it an acid
taste.  About two o’clock in the afternoon a sort of
hasty pudding, with a little shea butter, is the common meal; but
the supper constitutes the principal repast, and is seldom ready
before midnight.  This consists almost universally of
kouskous, with a small portion of animal food or shea butter
mixed with it.  In eating, the kafirs, as well as
Mohammedans, use the right hand only.

The beverages of the pagan negroes are beer and mead, of each
of which they frequently drink to excess.  The Mohammedan
convert drinks nothing but water.  The natives of all
descriptions take snuff and smoke tobacco; their pipes are made
of wood, with an earthen bowl of curious workmanship.  But
in the interior countries the greatest of all luxuries is
salt.  It would appear strange to a European to see a child
suck a piece of rock salt as if it were sugar.  This,
however, I have frequently seen, although, in the inland parts,
the poorer class of inhabitants are so very rarely indulged with
this precious article that to say a man ate salt with his
victuals is the same as saying he is a very rich
man.  I have myself suffered great inconvenience from
the scarcity of this article.  The long use of vegetable
food creates so painful a longing for salt that no words can
sufficiently describe it.

The negroes in general, and the Mandingoes in particular, are
considered by the whites on the coast as an indolent and inactive
people—I think without reason.  The nature of the
climate is, indeed, unfavourable to great exertion; but surely a
people cannot justly be denominated habitually indolent whose
wants are supplied, not by the spontaneous productions of nature,
but by their own exertions.  Few people work harder, when
occasion requires, than the Mandingoes; but not having many
opportunities of turning to advantage the superfluous produce of
their labour, they are content with cultivating as much ground
only as is necessary for their own support.  The labours of
the field give them pretty full employment during the rains; and
in the dry season the people who live in the vicinity of large
rivers employ themselves in fishing.  The fish are taken in
wicker baskets or with small cotton nets, and are preserved by
being first dried in the sun and afterwards rubbed with shea
butter, to prevent them from contracting fresh moisture. 
Others of the natives employ themselves in hunting.  Their
weapons are bows and arrows; but the arrows in common use are not
poisoned. [92]  They are very dexterous marksmen,
and will hit a lizard on a tree, or any other small object, at an
amazing distance.  They likewise kill guinea-fowls,
partridges, and pigeons, but never on the wing.  While the
men are occupied in these pursuits the women are very diligent in
manufacturing cotton cloth.  They prepare the cotton for
spinning by laying it in small quantities at a time upon a smooth
stone or piece of wood, and rolling the seeds out with a thick
iron spindle; and they spin it with the distaff.  The thread
is not fine, but well twisted, and makes a very durable
cloth.  A woman with common diligence will spin from six to
nine garments of this cloth in one year, which, according to its
fineness, will sell for a minkalli and a half or two minkallies
each. [93]  The weaving is performed by the
men.  The loom is made exactly upon the same principle as
that of Europe, but so small and narrow that the web is seldom
more than four inches broad.  The shuttle is of the common
construction, but as the thread is coarse the chamber is somewhat
larger than the European.

The women dye this cloth of a rich and lasting blue colour by
the following simple process:—The leaves of the indigo,
when fresh gathered, are pounded in a wooden mortar, and mixed in
a large earthen jar with a strong ley of wood-ashes; chamber-ley
is sometimes added.  The cloth is steeped in this mixture,
and allowed to remain until it has acquired the proper
shade.  In Kaarta and Ludamar, where the indigo is not
plentiful, they collect the leaves and dry them in the sun; and
when they wish to use them they reduce a sufficient quantity to
powder and mix it with the ley, as before mentioned.  Either
way the colour is very beautiful, with a fine purple gloss, and
equal in my opinion to the best Indian or European blue. 
This cloth is cut into various pieces and sewed into garments
with needles of the natives’ own making.

As the arts of weaving, dyeing, sewing, etc., may easily be
acquired, those who exercise them are not considered in Africa as
following any particular profession, for almost every slave can
weave, and every boy can sew.  The only artists who are
distinctly acknowledged as such by the negroes, and who value
themselves on exercising appropriate and peculiar trades, are the
manufacturers of leather and of iron.  The
first of these are called karrankea (or, as the word is
sometimes pronounced, gaungay).  They are to be found
in almost every town, and they frequently travel through the
country in the exercise of their calling.  They tan and
dress leather with very great expedition, by steeping the hide
first in a mixture of wood-ashes and water until it parts with
the hair, and afterwards by using the pounded leaves of a tree
called goo as an astringent.  They are at great pains
to render the hide as soft and pliant as possible, by rubbing it
frequently between their hands and beating it upon a stone. 
The hides of bullocks are converted chiefly into sandals, and
therefore require less care in dressing than the skins of sheep
and goats, which are used for covering quivers and saphies, and
in making sheaths for swords and knives, belts, pockets, and a
variety of ornaments.  These skins commonly are dyed of a
red or yellow colour—the red by means of millet stalks
reduced to powder; and the yellow by the root of a plant the name
of which I have forgotten.

The manufacturers in iron are not so numerous as the
karrankeas, but they appear to have studied their business
with equal diligence.  The negroes on the coast being
cheaply supplied with iron from the European traders, never
attempt the manufacturing of this article themselves; but in the
inland parts the natives smelt this useful metal in such
quantities not only to supply themselves from it with all
necessary weapons and instruments, but even to make it a article
of commerce with some of the neighbouring states.  During my
stay at Kamalia there was a smelting furnace at a short distance
from the hut where I lodged, and the owner and his workmen made
no secret about the manner of conducting the operation, and
readily allowed me to examine the furnace, and assist them in
breaking the ironstone.  The furnace was a circular tower of
clay, about ten feet high and three feet in diameter, surrounded
in two places with withes, to prevent the clay from cracking and
falling to pieces by the violence of the heat.  Round the
lower part, on a level with the ground—but not so low as
the bottom of the furnace, which was somewhat concave—were
made seven openings, into every one of which were placed three
tubes of clay, and the openings again plastered up in such a
manner that no air could enter the furnace but through the tubes,
by the opening and shutting of which they regulated the
fire.  These tubes were formed by plastering a mixture of
clay and grass round a smooth roller of wood, which, as soon as
the clay began to harden, was withdrawn, and the tube left to dry
in the sun.  The ironstone which I saw was very heavy, of a
dull red colour with greyish specks; it was broken into pieces
about the size of a hen’s egg.  A bundle of dry wood
was first put into the furnace, and covered with a considerable
quantity of charcoal, which was brought, ready burnt, from the
woods.  Over this was laid a stratum of ironstone, and then
another of charcoal, and so on, until the furnace was quite
full.  The fire was applied through one of the tubes, and
blown for some time with bellows made of goats’
skins.  The operation went on very slowly at first, and it
was some hours before the flame appeared above the furnace; but
after this it burnt with great violence all the first night, and
the people who attended put in at times more charcoal.  On
the day following the fire was not so fierce, and on the second
night some of the tubes were withdrawn and the air allowed to
have freer access to the furnace; but the heat was still very
great, and a bluish flame rose some feet above the top of the
furnace.  On the third day from the commencement of the
operation, all the tubes were taken out, the ends of many of them
being vitrified with the heat; but the metal was not removed
until some days afterwards, when the whole was perfectly
cool.  Part of the furnace was then taken down, and the iron
appeared in the form of a large irregular mass, with pieces of
charcoal adhering to it.  It was sonorous; and when any
portion was broken off, the fracture exhibited a granulated
appearance, like broken steel.  The owner informed me that
many parts of this cake were useless, but still there was good
iron enough to repay him for his trouble.  This iron, or
rather steel, is formed into various instruments by being
repeatedly heated in a forge, the heat of which is urged by a
pair of double bellows of a very simple construction, being made
of two goats’ skins the tubes from which unite before they
enter the forge, and supply a constant and very regular
blast.  The hammer, forceps, and anvil are all very simple,
and the workmanship (particularly in the formation of knives and
spears) is not destitute of merit.  The iron, indeed, is
hard and brittle, and requires much labour before it can be made
to answer the purpose.

Such is the chief information I obtained concerning the
present state of arts and manufactures in those regions of Africa
which I explored in my journey.  I might add, though it is
scarce worthy observation, that in Bambarra and Kaarta the
natives make very beautiful baskets, hats, and other articles,
both for use and ornament, from rushes, which they stain of
different colours; and they contrive also to cover their
calabashes with interwoven cane, dyed in the same manner.

CHAPTER XXII.
WAR AND SLAVERY.

A state of subordination and certain inequalities of rank and
condition are inevitable in every stage of civil society; but
when the subordination is carried to so great a length that the
persons and services of one part of the community are entirely at
the disposal of another part, it may then be denominated a state
of slavery, and in this condition of life a great body of the
negro inhabitants of Africa have continued from the most early
period of their history, with this aggravation, that their
children are born to no other inheritance.

The slaves in Africa, I suppose, are nearly in the proportion
of three to one to the freemen.  They claim no reward for
their services except food and clothing, and are treated with
kindness or severity, according to the good or bad disposition of
their masters.  Custom, however, has established certain
rules with regard to the treatment of slaves, which it is thought
dishonourable to violate.  Thus the domestic slaves, or such
as are born in a man’s own house, are treated with more
lenity than those which are purchased with money.  The
authority of the master over the domestic slave, as I have
elsewhere observed, extends only to reasonable correction; for
the master cannot sell his domestic, without having first brought
him to a public trial before the chief men of the place. 
But these restrictions on the power of the master extend not to
the case of prisoners taken in war, nor to that of slaves
purchased with money.  All these unfortunate beings are
considered as strangers and foreigners, who have no right to the
protection of the law, and may be treated with severity, or sold
to a stranger, according to the pleasure of their owners. 
There are, indeed, regular markets, where slaves of this
description are bought and sold, and the value of a slave, in the
eye of an African purchaser, increases in proportion to his
distance from his native kingdom: for when slaves are only a few
days’ journey from the place of their nativity they
frequently effect their escape; but when one or more kingdoms
intervene, escape being more difficult, they are more readily
reconciled to their situation.  On this account the unhappy
slave is frequently transferred from one dealer to another, until
he has lost all hopes of returning to his native kingdom. 
The slaves which are purchased by the Europeans on the coast are
chiefly of this description.  A few of them are collected in
the petty wars, hereafter to be described, which take place near
the coast, but by far the greater number are brought down in
large caravans from the inland countries, of which many are
unknown, even by name, to the Europeans.  The slaves which
are thus brought from the interior may be divided into two
distinct classes—first, such as were slaves from their
birth, having been born of enslaved mothers; secondly, such as
were born free, but who afterwards, by whatever means, became
slaves.  Those of the first description are by far the most
numerous, for prisoners taken in war (at least such as are taken
in open and declared war, when one kingdom avows hostilities
against another) are generally of this description.  The
comparatively small proportion of free people to the enslaved
throughout Africa has already been noticed: and it must be
observed that men of free condition have many advantages over the
slaves, even in war time.  They are in general better armed,
and well mounted, and can either fight or escape with some hopes
of success; but the slaves, who have only their spears and bows,
and of whom great numbers are loaded with baggage, become an easy
prey.  Thus when Mansong, king of Bambarra, made war upon
Kaarta (as I have related in a former chapter), he took in one
day nine hundred prisoners, of which number not more than seventy
were freemen.  This account I received from Daman Jumma, who
had thirty slaves at Kemmoo, all of whom were made prisoners by
Mansong.  Again, when a freeman is taken prisoner his
friends will sometimes ransom him by giving two slaves in
exchange; but when a slave is taken, he has no hopes of such
redemption.  To these disadvantages, it is to be added that
the slatees, who purchase slaves in the interior countries and
carry them down to the coast for sale, constantly prefer such as
have been in that condition of life from their infancy, well
knowing that these have been accustomed to hunger and fatigue,
and are better able to sustain the hardships of a long and
painful journey than freemen; and on their reaching the coast, if
no opportunity offers of selling them to advantage, they can
easily be made to maintain themselves by their labour; neither
are they so apt to attempt making their escape as those who have
once tasted the blessings of freedom.

Slaves of the second description generally become such by one
or other of the following causes:—1, captivity; 2, famine;
3, insolvency; 4, crimes.  A freeman may, by the established
customs of Africa, become a slave by being taken in war. 
War is of all others the most productive source, and was probably
the origin, of slavery; for when one nation had taken from
another a greater number of captives than could be exchanged on
equal terms, it is natural to suppose that the conquerors,
finding it inconvenient to maintain their prisoners, would compel
them to labour—at first, perhaps, only for their own
support, but afterwards to support their masters.  Be this
as it may, it is a known fact that prisoners of war in Africa are
the slaves of the conquerors; and when the weak or unsuccessful
warrior begs for mercy beneath the uplifted spear of his
opponent, he gives up at the same time his claim to liberty, and
purchases his life at the expense of his freedom.

In a country divided into a thousand petty states, mostly
independent and jealous of each other, where every freeman is
accustomed to arms and fond of military achievements, where the
youth, who has practised the bow and spear from his infancy,
longs for nothing so much as an opportunity to display his
valour, it is natural to imagine that wars frequently originate
from very frivolous provocation.  When one nation is more
powerful than another, pretext is seldom wanting for commencing
hostilities.  Thus the war between Kajaaga and Kasson was
occasioned by the detention of a fugitive slave; that between
Bambarra and Kaarta by the loss of a few cattle.  Other
cases of the same nature perpetually occur in which the folly or
mad ambition of their princes and the zeal of their religious
enthusiasts give full employment to the scythe of desolation.

The wars of Africa are of two kinds, which are distinguished
by different appellations; that species which bears the greatest
resemblance to our European contests is denominated killi,
a word signifying “to call out,” because such wars
are openly avowed and previously declared.  Wars of this
description in Africa commonly terminate, however, in the course
of a single campaign.  A battle is fought—the
vanquished seldom think of rallying again—the whole
inhabitants become panic-struck, and the conquerors have only to
bind the slaves and carry off their plunder and their
victims.  Such of the prisoners as, through age or
infirmity, are unable to endure fatigue, or are found unfit for
sale, are considered as useless, and, I have no doubt, are
frequently put to death.  The same fate commonly awaits a
chief or any other person who has taken a very distinguished part
in the war.  And here it may be observed that,
notwithstanding this exterminating system, it is surprising to
behold how soon an African town is rebuilt and repeopled. 
The circumstance arises probably from this: that their pitched
battles are few—the weakest know their own situation, and
seek safety in flight.  When their country has been
desolated, and their ruined towns and villages deserted by the
enemy, such of the inhabitants as have escaped the sword
and the chain generally return, though with cautious
steps, to the place of their nativity—for it seems to be
the universal wish of mankind to spend the evening of their days
where they passed their infancy.  The poor negro feels this
desire in its full force.  To him no water is sweet but what
is drawn from his own well, and no tree has so cool and pleasant
a shade as the tabba tree [104] of his native
village.  When war compels him to abandon the delightful
spot in which he first drew his breath, and seek for safety in
some other kingdom, his time is spent in talking about the
country of his ancestors; and no sooner is peace restored than he
turns his back upon the land of strangers, rebuilds with haste
his fallen walls, and exults to see the smoke ascend from his
native village.

The other species of African warfare is distinguished by the
appellation of tegria (plundering, or stealing).  It
arises from a sort of hereditary feud which the inhabitants of
one nation or district bear towards another.  No immediate
cause of hostility is assigned, or notice of attack given, but
the inhabitants of each watch every opportunity to plunder and
distress the objects of their animosity by predatory
excursions.  These are very common, particularly about the
beginning of the dry season, when the labour of the harvest is
over and provisions are plentiful.  Schemes of vengeance are
then meditated.  The chief man surveys the number and
activity of his vassals as they brandish their spears at
festivals, and, elated with his own importance, turns his whole
thoughts towards revenging some depredation or insult which
either he or his ancestors may have received from a neighbouring
state.

Wars of this description are generally conducted with great
secrecy.  A few resolute individuals, headed by some person
of enterprise and courage, march quietly through the woods,
surprise in the night some unprotected village, and carry off the
inhabitants and their effects before their neighbours can come to
their assistance.  One morning during my stay at Kamalia we
were all much alarmed by a party of this kind.  The king of
Fooladoo’s son, with five hundred horsemen, passed secretly
through the woods a little to the southward of Kamalia, and on
the morning following plundered three towns belonging to Madigai,
a powerful chief in Jallonkadoo.

The success of this expedition encouraged the governor of
Bangassi, a town in Fooladoo, to make a second inroad upon
another part of the same country.  Having assembled about
two hundred of his people, he passed the river Kokoro in the
night, and carried off a great number of prisoners.  Several
of the inhabitants who had escaped these attacks were afterwards
seized by the Mandingoes as they wandered about in the woods or
concealed themselves in the glens and strong places of the
mountains.

These plundering excursions always produced speedy
retaliation: and when large parties cannot be collected for this
purpose, a few friends will combine together and advance into the
enemy’s country, with a view to plunder or carry off the
inhabitants.  A single individual has been known to take his
bow and quiver and proceed in like manner.  Such an attempt
is doubtless in him an act of rashness; but when it is considered
that in one of these predatory wars he has probably been deprived
of his child or his nearest relation, his situation will rather
call for pity than censure.  The poor sufferer, urged on by
the feelings of domestic or paternal attachment and the ardour of
revenge, conceals himself among the bushes until some young or
unarmed person passes by.  He then, tiger-like, springs upon
his prey, drags his victim into the thicket, and in the night
carries him off as a slave.

When a negro has, by means like these, once fallen into the
hands of his enemies, he is either retained as the slave of his
conqueror, or bartered into a distant kingdom; for an African,
when he has once subdued his enemy, will seldom give him an
opportunity of lifting up his hand against him at a future
period.  A conqueror commonly disposes of his captives
according to the rank which they held in their native
kingdom.  Such of the domestic slaves as appear to be of a
mild disposition, and particularly the young women, are retained
as his own slaves.  Others that display marks of discontent
are disposed of in a distant country; and such of the freemen or
slaves as have taken an active part in the war are either sold to
the slatees or put to death.  War, therefore, is certainly
the most general and most productive source of slavery, and the
desolations of war often (but not always) produce the second
cause of slavery, famine; in which case a freeman becomes
a slave to avoid a greater calamity.

Perhaps, by a philosophic and reflecting mind, death itself
would scarcely be considered as a greater calamity than slavery;
but the poor negro, when fainting with hunger, thinks like Esau
of old, “Behold, I am at the point to die, and what profit
shall this birthright do to me?”  There are many
instances of freemen voluntarily surrendering up their liberty to
save their lives.  During a great scarcity, which lasted for
three years, in the countries of the Gambia, great numbers of
people became slaves in this manner.  Dr. Laidley assured me
that at that time many freemen came and begged, with great
earnestness, to be put upon his slave-chain, to save them
from perishing of hunger.  Large families are very often
exposed to absolute want; and as the parents have almost
unlimited authority over their children, it frequently happens,
in all parts of Africa, that some of the latter are sold to
purchase provisions for the rest of the family.  When I was
at Jarra, Daman Jumma pointed out to me three young slaves whom
he had purchased in this manner.  I have already related
another instance which I saw at Wonda; and I was informed that in
Fooladoo, at that time, it was a very common practice.

The third cause of slavery is insolvency.  Of all
the offences (if insolvency may be so called) to which the laws
of Africa have affixed the punishment of slavery, this is the
most common.  A negro trader commonly contracts debts on
some mercantile speculation, either from his neighbours, to
purchase such articles as will sell to advantage in a distant
market, or from the European traders on the coast—payment
to be made in a given time.  In both cases the situation of
the adventurer is exactly the same.  If he succeeds, he may
secure an independency: if he is unsuccessful, his person and
services are at the disposal of another; for in Africa, not only
the effects of the insolvent, but even the insolvent himself, is
sold to satisfy the lawful demands of his creditors. [109]

The fourth cause above enumerated is, the commission of
crimes on which the laws of the country affix slavery as a
punishment.  In Africa the only offences of this class
are murder, adultery, and witchcraft, and I am happy to say that
they did not appear to me to be common.  In cases of murder,
I was informed that the nearest relation of the deceased had it
in his power, after conviction, either to kill the offender with
his own hand or sell him into slavery.  When adultery
occurs, it is generally left to the option of the person injured
either to sell the culprit or accept such a ransom for him as he
may think equivalent to the injury he has sustained.  By
witchcraft is meant pretended magic, by which the lives or
healths of persons are affected; in other words, it is the
administering of poison.  No trial for this offence,
however, came under my observation while I was in Africa, and I
therefore suppose that the crime and its punishment occur but
very seldom.

When a freeman has become a slave by any one of the causes
before mentioned, he generally continues so for life, and his
children (if they are born of an enslaved mother) are brought up
in the same state of servitude.  There are, however, a few
instances of slaves obtaining their freedom, and sometimes even
with the consent of their masters, as by performing some singular
piece of service, or by going to battle and bringing home two
slaves as a ransom; but the common way of regaining freedom is by
escape, and when slaves have once set their minds on running away
they often succeed.  Some of them will wait for years before
an opportunity presents itself, and during that period show no
signs of discontent.  In general, it may be remarked that
slaves who come from a hilly country and have been much
accustomed to hunting and travel, are more apt to attempt to make
their escape than such as are born in a flat country and have
been employed in cultivating the land.

Such are the general outlines of that system of slavery which
prevails in Africa, and it is evident, from its nature and
extent, that it is a system of no modern date.  It probably
had its origin in the remote ages of antiquity, before the
Mohammedans explored a path across the desert.  How far it
is maintained and supported by the slave traffic which for two
hundred years the nations of Europe have carried on with the
natives of the coast, it is neither within my province nor in my
power to explain.  If my sentiments should be required
concerning the effect which a discontinuance of that commerce
would produce on the manners of the natives, I should have no
hesitation in observing that, in the present unenlightened state
of their minds, my opinion is, the effect would neither be so
extensive nor beneficial as many wise and worthy persons fondly
expect.

CHAPTER XXIII.
GOLD AND IVORY.

Those valuable commodities, gold
and ivory (the next objects of our inquiry), have probably been
found in Africa from the first ages of the world.  They are
reckoned among its most important productions in the earliest
records of its history.

It has been observed that gold is seldom or never discovered
except in mountainous and barren
countries—nature, it is said, thus making amends in one way
for her penuriousness in the other.  This, however, is not
wholly true.  Gold is found in considerable quantities
throughout every part of Manding, a country which is indeed
hilly, but cannot properly be called mountainous, much
less barren.  It is also found in great plenty in
Jallonkadoo (particularly about Boori), another hilly, but by no
means an unfertile, country.  It is remarkable that in the
place last mentioned (Boori), which is situated about four
days’ journey to the south-west of Kamalia, the salt market
is often supplied at the same time with rock-salt from the Great
Desert and sea-salt from the Rio Grande; the price of each, at
this distance from its source, being nearly the same.  And
the dealers in each, whether Moors from the north or negroes from
the west, are invited thither by the same motives—that of
bartering their salt for gold.

The gold of Manding, so far as I could learn, is never found
in any matrix or vein, but always in small grains nearly in a
pure state, from the size of a pin’s head to that of a pea,
scattered through a large body of sand or clay, and in this state
it is called by the Mandingoes sanoo munko (gold
powder).  It is, however, extremely probable, by what I
could learn of the situation of the ground, that most of it has
originally been washed down by repeated torrents from the
neighbouring hills.  The manner in which it is collected is
nearly as follows:—

About the beginning of December, when the harvest is over and
the streams and torrents have greatly subsided, the mansa or
chief of the town appoints a day to begin sanoo koo
(gold-washing), and the women are sure to have themselves in
readiness by the time appointed.  A hoe or spade for digging
up the sand, two or three calabashes for washing it in, and a few
quills for containing the gold dust, are all the implements
necessary for the purpose.  On the morning of their
departure a bullock is killed for the first day’s
entertainment, and a number of prayers and charms are used to
insure success, for a failure on that day is thought a bad
omen.

The mansa of Kamalia, with fourteen of his people, were, I
remember, so much disappointed in their first day’s washing
that very few of them had resolution to persevere, and the few
that did had but very indifferent success: which indeed is not
much to be wondered at, for instead of opening some untried place
they continued to dig and wash in the same spot where they had
dug and washed for years, and where, of course, but few large
grains could be left.

The washing of the sands of the streams is by far the easiest
way of obtaining the gold dust; but in most places the sands have
been so narrowly searched before, that unless the stream takes
some new course the gold is found but in small quantities. 
While some of the party are busied in washing the sands, others
employ themselves farther up the torrent, where the rapidity of
the stream has carried away all the clay, sand, etc., and left
nothing but small pebbles.  The search among these is a very
troublesome task.  I have seen women who have had the skin
worn off the tops of their fingers in this employment. 
Sometimes, however, they are rewarded by finding pieces of gold,
which they call sanoo birro (gold stones), that amply
repay them for their trouble.  A woman and her daughter,
inhabitants of Kamalia, found in one day two pieces of this kind;
one of five drachms and the other of three drachms weight. 
But the most certain and profitable mode of washing is practised
in the height of the dry season, by digging a deep pit, like a
draw-well, near some hill which has previously been discovered to
contain gold.  The pit is dug with small spades or
corn-hoes, and the earth is drawn up in large calabashes. 
As the negroes dig through the different strata of clay or sand,
a calabash or two of each is washed by way of experiment; and in
this manner the labourers proceed, until they come to a stratum
containing gold, or until they are obstructed by rocks, or
inundated by water.  In general, when they come to a stratum
of fine reddish sand, with small black specks therein, they find
gold in some proportion or other, and send up large calabashes
full of the sand for the women to wash; for though the pit is dug
by the men, the gold is always washed by the women, who are
accustomed from their infancy to a similar operation in
separating the husks of corn from the meal.

As I never descended into any one of these pits, I cannot say
in what manner they are worked underground.  Indeed, the
situation in which I was placed made it necessary for me to be
cautious not to incur the suspicion of the natives by examining
too far into the riches of their country; but the manner of
separating the gold from the sand is very simple, and is
frequently performed by the women in the middle of the town; for
when the searchers return, from the valleys in the evening, they
commonly bring with them each a calabash or two of sand, to be
washed by such of the females as remain at home.  The
operation is simply as follows:—

A portion of sand or clay (for the gold is sometimes found in
a brown-coloured clay) is put into a large calabash and mixed
with a sufficient quantity of water.  The woman whose office
it is, then shakes the calabash in such a manner as to mix the
sand and water together, and give the whole a rotatory
motion—at first gently, but afterwards more quickly, until
a small portion of sand and water, at every revolution, flies
over the brim of the calabash.  The sand thus separated is
only the coarsest particles mixed with a little muddy
water.  After the operation has been continued for some
time, the sand is allowed to subside, and the water poured off; a
portion of coarse sand, which is now uppermost in the calabash,
is removed by the hand, and, fresh water being added, the
operation is repeated until the water comes off almost
pure.  The woman now takes a second calabash, and shakes the
sand and water gently from the one to the other, reserving that
portion of sand which is next the bottom of the calabash, and
which is most likely to contain the gold.  This small
quantity is mixed with some pure water, and, being moved about in
the calabash, is carefully examined.  If a few particles of
gold are picked out, the contents of the other calabash are
examined in the same manner, but in general the party is well
contented if she can obtain three or four grains from the
contents of both calabashes.  Some women, however, by long
practice, become so well acquainted with the nature of the sand,
and the mode of washing it, that they will collect gold where
others cannot find a single particle.  The gold dust is kept
in quills stopped up with cotton; and the washers are fond of
displaying a number of these quills in their hair. 
Generally speaking, if a person uses common diligence in a proper
soil, it is supposed that as much gold may be collected by him in
the course of the dry season as is equal to the value of two
slaves.

Thus simple is the process by which the negroes obtain gold in
Manding; and it is evident from this account that the country
contains a considerable portion of this precious metal, for many
of the smaller particles must necessarily escape the observation
of the naked eye; and as the natives generally search the sands
of streams at a considerable distance from the hills, and
consequently far removed from the mines where the gold was
originally produced, the labourers are sometimes but ill-paid for
their trouble.  Minute particles only of this heavy metal
can be carried by the current to any considerable distance; the
larger must remain deposited near the original source from whence
they came.  Were the gold-bearing streams to be traced to
their fountains, and the hills from whence they spring properly
examined, the sand in which the gold is there deposited would no
doubt be found to contain particles of a much larger size; and
even the small grains might be collected to considerable
advantage by the use of quicksilver and other improvements, with
which the natives are at present unacquainted.

Part of this gold is converted into ornaments for the women,
but in general these ornaments are more to be admired for their
weight than their workmanship.  They are massy and
inconvenient, particularly the earrings, which are commonly so
heavy as to pull down and lacerate the lobe of the ear; to avoid
which, they are supported by a thong of red leather, which passes
over the crown of the head from one ear to the other.  The
necklace displays greater fancy, and the proper arrangement of
the different beads and plates of gold is the great criterion of
taste and elegance.  When a lady of consequence is in full
dress, her gold ornaments may be worth altogether from fifty to
eighty pounds sterling.

A small quantity of gold is likewise employed by the slatees
in defraying the expenses of their journeys to and from the
coast, but by far the greater proportion is annually carried away
by the Moors in exchange for salt and other merchandise. 
During my stay at Kamalia, the gold collected by the different
traders at that place for salt alone was nearly equal to one
hundred and ninety-eight pounds sterling; and as Kamalia is but a
small town, and not much resorted to by the trading Moors, this
quantity must have borne a very small proportion to the gold
collected at Kancaba, Kankaree, and some other large towns. 
The value of salt in this part of Africa is very great.  One
slab, about two feet and a half in length, fourteen inches in
breadth, and two inches in thickness, will sometimes sell for
about two pounds ten shillings sterling; and from one pound
fifteen shillings to two pounds may be considered as the common
price.  Four of these slabs are considered as a load for an
ass, and six for a bullock.  The value of European
merchandise in Manding varies very much according to the supply
from the coast, or the dread of war in the country; but the
return for such articles is commonly made in slaves.  The
price of a prime slave, when I was at Kamalia, was from twelve to
nine minkallies, and European commodities had then nearly the
following value:—

The produce of the country and the different necessaries of
life, when exchanged for gold, sold as follows:—

Common provisions for one day, the weight of one
teeleekissi (a black bean, six of which make the weight of
one minkalli); a chicken, one teeleekissi; a sheep, three
teeleekissi; a bullock, one minkalli; a horse, from ten to
seventeen minkallies.

The negroes weigh the gold in small balances, which they
always carry about them.  They make no difference, in point
of value, between gold dust and wrought gold.  In bartering
one article for another, the person who receives the gold always
weighs it with his own teeleekissi.  These beans are
sometimes fraudulently soaked in shea-butter to make them heavy,
and I once saw a pebble ground exactly into the form of one of
them; but such practices are not very common.

Having now related the substance of what occurs to my
recollection concerning the African mode of obtaining gold from
the earth, and its value in barter, I proceed to the next article
of which I proposed to treat—namely, ivory.

Nothing creates a greater surprise among the negroes on the
sea-coast than the eagerness displayed by the European traders to
procure elephants’ teeth, it being exceedingly difficult to
make them comprehend to what use it is applied.  Although
they are shown knives with ivory handles, combs and toys of the
same material, and are convinced that the ivory thus manufactured
was originally parts of a tooth, they are not satisfied. 
They suspect that this commodity is more frequently converted in
Europe to purposes of far greater importance, the true nature of
which is studiously concealed from them, lest the price of ivory
should be enhanced.  They cannot, they say, easily persuade
themselves that ships would be built and voyages undertaken to
procure an article which had no other value than that of
furnishing handles to knives, etc., when pieces of wood would
answer the purpose equally well.

Elephants are very numerous in the interior of Africa, but
they appear to be a distinct species from those found in
Asia.  Blumenbach, in his figures of objects of natural
history, has given good drawings of a grinder of each, and the
variation is evident.  M. Cuvier also has given in the
Magasin Encyclopédique a clear account of the
difference between them.  As I never examined the Asiatic
elephant, I have chosen rather to refer to those writers than
advance this as an opinion of my own.  It has been said that
the African elephant is of a less docile nature than the Asiatic,
and incapable of being tamed.  The negroes certainly do not
at present tame them; but when we consider that the Carthaginians
had always tame elephants in their armies, and actually
transported some of them to Italy in the course of the Punic
wars, it seems more likely that they should have possessed the
art of taming their own elephants than have submitted to the
expense of bringing such vast animals from Asia.  Perhaps
the barbarous practice of hunting the African elephants for the
sake of their teeth has rendered them more untractable and savage
than they were found to be in former times.

The greater part of the ivory which is sold on the Gambia and
Senegal rivers is brought from the interior country.  The
lands towards the coast are too swampy and too much intersected
with creeks and rivers for so bulky an animal as the elephant to
travel through without being discovered; and when once the
natives discern the marks of his feet in the earth, the whole
village is up in arms.  The thoughts of feasting on his
flesh, making sandals of his hide, and selling the teeth to the
Europeans, inspire every one with courage, and the animal seldom
escapes from his pursuers; but in the plains of Bambarra and
Kaarta, and the extensive wilds of Jallonkadoo, the elephants are
very numerous, and, from the great scarcity of gunpowder in those
districts, they are less annoyed by the natives.

Scattered teeth are frequently picked up in the woods, and
travellers are very diligent in looking for them.  It is a
common practice with the elephant to thrust his teeth under the
roots of such shrubs and bushes as grow in the more dry and
elevated parts of the country, where the soil is shallow. 
These bushes he easily overturns, and feeds on the roots, which
are in general more tender and juicy than the hard, woody
branches or the foliage; but when the teeth are partly decayed by
age, and the roots more firmly fixed, the great exertions of the
animal in this practice frequently cause them to break
short.  At Kamalia I saw two teeth, one a very large one,
which were found in the woods, and which were evidently broken
off in this manner.  Indeed, it is difficult otherwise to
account for such a large proportion of broken ivory as is daily
offered for sale at the different factories, for when the
elephant is killed in hunting, unless he dashes himself over a
precipice, the teeth are always extracted entire.

There are certain seasons of the year when the elephants
collect into large herds, and traverse the country in quest of
food or water; and as all that part of the country to the north
of the Niger is destitute of rivers, whenever the pools in the
woods are dried up the elephants approach towards the banks of
that river.  Here they continue until the commencement of
the rainy season, in the months of June or July, and during this
time they are much hunted by such of the Bambarrans as have
gunpowder to spare.  The elephant-hunters seldom go out
singly—a party of four or five join together, and having
each furnished himself with powder and ball, and a quantity of
corn-meal in a leather bag sufficient for five or six days’
provision, they enter the most unfrequented parts of the wood,
and examine with great care everything that can lead to the
discovery of the elephants.  In this pursuit,
notwithstanding the bulk of the animal, very great nicety of
observation is required.  The broken branches, the scattered
dung of the animal, and the marks of his feet are carefully
inspected; and many of the hunters have, by long experience and
attentive observation, become so expert in their search that as
soon as they observe the foot-marks of an elephant they will tell
almost to a certainty at what time it passed and at what distance
it will be found.

When they discover a herd of elephants, they follow them at a
distance, until they perceive some one stray from the rest and
come into such a situation as to be fired at with
advantage.  The hunters then approach with great caution,
creeping amongst the long grass, until they have got near enough
to be sure of their aim.  They then discharge all their
pieces at once, and throw themselves on their faces among the
grass; the wounded elephant immediately applies his trunk to the
different wounds, but being unable to extract the balls, and
seeing nobody near him, he becomes quite furious and runs about
amongst the bushes until by fatigue and loss of blood he has
exhausted himself, and affords the hunters an opportunity of
firing a second time at him, by which he is generally brought to
the ground.

The skin is now taken off, and extended on the ground with
pegs to dry; and such parts of the flesh as are most esteemed are
cut up into thin slices, and dried in the sun, to serve for
provisions on some future occasion.  The teeth are struck
out with a light hatchet which the hunters always carry along
with them, not only for that purpose, but also to enable them to
cut down such trees as contain honey; for though they carry with
them only five or six days’ provisions, they will remain in
the woods for months if they are successful, and support
themselves upon the flesh of such elephants as they kill and wild
honey.

The ivory thus collected is seldom brought down to the coast
by the hunters themselves.  They dispose of it to the
itinerant merchants who come annually from the coast with arms
and ammunition to purchase this valuable commodity.  Some of
these merchants will collect ivory in the course of one season
sufficient to load four or five asses.  A great quantity of
ivory is likewise brought from the interior by the slave coffles;
there are, however, some slatees of the Mohammedan persuasion
who, from motives of religion, will not deal in ivory, nor eat of
the flesh of the elephant, unless it has been killed with a
spear.

The quantity of ivory collected in this part of Africa is not
so great, nor are the teeth in general so large, as in the
countries nearer the Line: few of them weigh more than eighty or
one hundred pounds, and upon an average a bar of European
merchandise may be reckoned as the price of a pound of ivory.

I have now, I trust, in this and the preceding chapters
explained with sufficient minuteness the nature and extent of the
commercial connection which at present prevails, and has long
subsisted, between the negro natives of those parts of Africa
which I visited and the nations of Europe; and it appears that
slaves, gold, and ivory, together with the few articles
enumerated in the beginning of my work—viz., bees’
wax and honey, hides, gums, and dye-woods—constitute the
whole catalogue of exportable commodities.  Other
productions, however, have been incidentally noticed as the
growth of Africa, such as grain of different kinds, tobacco,
indigo, cotton-wool and perhaps a few others; but of all these
(which can only be obtained by cultivation and labour) the
natives raise sufficient only for their own immediate
expenditure; nor, under the present system of their laws,
manners, trade, and government, can anything further be expected
from them.  It cannot, however, admit of a doubt that all
the rich and valuable productions both of the East and West
Indies might easily be naturalised and brought to the utmost
perfection in the tropical parts of this immense continent. 
Nothing is wanting to this end but example to enlighten the minds
of the natives, and instruction to enable them to direct their
industry to proper objects.  It was not possible for me to
behold the wonderful fertility of the soil, the vast herds of
cattle, proper both for labour and food, and a variety of other
circumstances favourable to colonisation and
agriculture—and reflect, withal, on the means which
presented themselves of a vast inland navigation
without—lamenting that a country so abundantly gifted and
favoured by nature should remain in its present savage and
neglected state.  Much more did I lament that a people of
manners and disposition so gentle and benevolent should either be
left as they now are, immersed in the gross and uncomfortable
blindness of pagan superstition, or permitted to become converts
to a system of bigotry and fanaticism which, without enlightening
the mind, often debases the heart.  On this subject many
observations might be made, but the reader will probably think
that I have already digressed too largely; and I now, therefore,
return to my situation at Kamalia.

CHAPTER XXIV.
MOHAMMEDAN CUSTOMS; ARRIVAL AT
KINYTAKOORO.

The schoolmaster to whose care I
was entrusted during the absence of Karfa was a man of a mild
disposition and gentle manners; his name was Fankooma, and
although he himself adhered strictly to the religion of Mohammed,
he was by no means intolerant in his principles towards others
who differed from him.  He spent much of his time in
reading, and teaching appeared to be his pleasure as well as
employment.  His school consisted of seventeen boys, most of
whom were sons of Kafirs, and two girls, one of whom was
Karfa’s own daughter.  The girls received their
instruction in the daytime, but the boys always had their
lessons, by the light of a large fire, before day break and again
late in the evening; for, being considered, during their
scholarship, as the domestic slaves of the master, they were
employed in planting corn, bringing firewood, and in other
servile offices through the day.

Exclusive of the Koran, and a book or two of commentaries
thereon, the schoolmaster possessed a variety of manuscripts,
which had partly been purchased from the trading Moors, and
partly borrowed from bushreens in the neighbourhood and copied
with great care.  Other manuscripts had been produced to me
at different places in the course of my journey; and on
recounting those I had before seen, and those which were now
shown to me, and interrogating the schoolmaster on the subject, I
discovered that the negroes are in possession (among others) of
an Arabic version of the Pentateuch of Moses, which they call
Taureta la Moosa.  This is so highly esteemed that it
is often sold for the value of one prime slave.  They have
likewise a version of the Psalms of David (Zabora Dawidi);
and, lastly, the Book of Isaiah, which they call Lingeeli la
Isa, and it is in very high esteem.  I suspect, indeed,
that in all these copies there are interpolations of some of the
peculiar tenets of Mohammed, for I could distinguish in many
passages the name of the Prophet.  It is possible, however,
that this circumstance might otherwise have been accounted for if
my knowledge of the Arabic had been more extensive.  By
means of those books many of the converted negroes have acquired
an acquaintance with some of the remarkable events recorded in
the Old Testament.  The account of our first parents, the
death of Abel, the Deluge, the lives of Abraham, Isaac, and
Jacob, the story of Joseph and his brethren, the history of
Moses, David, Solomon, etc.; all these have been related to me,
in the Mandingo language, with tolerable exactness by different
people; and my surprise was not greater, on hearing these
accounts from the lips of the negroes, than theirs on finding
that I was already acquainted with them; for although the negroes
in general have a very great idea of the wealth and power of the
Europeans, I am afraid that the Mohammedan converts among them
think but very lightly of our superior attainments in religious
knowledge.  The white traders in the maritime districts take
no pains to counteract this unhappy prejudice, always performing
their own devotions in secret, and seldom condescending to
converse with the negroes in a friendly and instructive
manner.  To me, therefore, it was not so much the subject of
wonder as matter of regret to observe that, while the
superstition of Mohammed has in this manner scattered a few faint
beams of learning among these poor people, the precious light of
Christianity is altogether excluded.  I could not but lament
that, although the coast of Africa has now been known and
frequented by the Europeans for more than two hundred years, yet
the negroes still remain entire strangers to the doctrines of our
holy religion.  We are anxious to draw from obscurity the
opinions and records of antiquity, the beauties of Arabian and
Asiatic literature, etc.; but while our libraries are thus stored
with the learning of various countries, we distribute with a
parsimonious hand the blessings of religious truth to the
benighted nations of the earth.  The natives of Asia derive
but little advantage in this respect from an intercourse with us;
and even the poor Africans, whom we affect to consider as
barbarians, look upon us, I fear, as little better than a race of
formidable but ignorant heathens.  When I produced
Richardson’s Arabic Grammar to some slatees on the Gambia,
they were astonished to think that any European should understand
and write the sacred language of their religion.  At first
they suspected that it might have been written by some of the
slaves carried from the coast, but on a closer examination they
were satisfied that no bushreen could write such beautiful
Arabic, and one of them offered to give me an ass and sixteen
bars of goods if I would part with the book.  Perhaps a
short and easy introduction to Christianity, such as is found in
some of the catechisms for children, elegantly printed in Arabic,
and distributed on different parts of the coast, might have a
wonderful effect.  The expense would be but trifling;
curiosity would induce many to read it; and the evident
superiority which it would possess over their present
manuscripts, both in point of elegance and cheapness, might at
last obtain it a place among the school-books of Africa.

The reflections which I have thus ventured to submit to my
readers on this important subject naturally suggested themselves
to my mind on perceiving the encouragement which was thus given
to learning (such as it is) in many parts of Africa.  I have
observed that the pupils at Kamalia were most of them the
children of pagans; their parents, therefore, could have had no
predilection for the doctrines of Mohammed.  Their aim was
their children’s improvement; and if a more enlightened
system had presented itself, it would probably have been
preferred.  The children, too, wanted not a spirit of
emulation, which it is the aim of the tutor to encourage. 
When any one of them has read through the Koran, and performed a
certain number of public prayers, a feast is prepared by the
schoolmaster, and the scholar undergoes an examination, or (in
European terms) takes out his degree.  I attended at
three different inaugurations of this sort, and heard with
pleasure the distinct and intelligent answers which the scholars
frequently gave to the bushreens, who assembled on those
occasions and acted as examiners.  When the bushreens had
satisfied themselves respecting the learning and abilities of the
scholar, the last page of the Koran was put into his hand, and he
was desired to read it aloud.  After the boy had finished
this lesson, he pressed the paper against his forehead and
pronounced the word Amen, upon which all the bushreens
rose, and, shaking him cordially by the hand, bestowed upon him
the title of bushreen.

When a scholar has undergone this examination, his parents are
informed that he has completed his education, and that it is
incumbent on them to redeem their son by giving to the
schoolmaster a slave or the price of a slave in exchange, which
is always done if the parents can afford to do it; if not, the
boy remains the domestic slave of the schoolmaster until he can,
by his own industry, collect goods sufficient to ransom
himself.

About a week after the departure of Karfa three Moors arrived
at Kamalia with a considerable quantity of salt and other
merchandise, which they had obtained on credit from a merchant of
Fezzan, who had lately arrived at Kancaba.  Their engagement
was to pay him his price when the goods were sold, which they
expected would be in the course of a month.  Being rigid
bushreens, they were accommodated with two of Karfa’s huts,
and sold their goods to very great advantage.

On the 24th of January Karfa returned to Kamalia with a number
of people and thirteen prime slaves whom he had purchased. 
He likewise brought with him a young girl whom he had married at
Kancaba, as his fourth wife, and had given her parents three
prime slaves for her.  She was kindly received at the door
of the baloon by Karfa’s other wives, who conducted their
new acquaintance and co-partner into one of the best huts, which
they had caused to be swept and whitewashed on purpose to receive
her.

My clothes were by this time become so very ragged that I was
almost ashamed to appear out of doors, but Karfa, on the day
after his arrival, generously presented me with such a garment
and trousers as are commonly worn in the country.

The slaves which Karfa had brought with him were all of them
prisoners of war; they had been taken by the Bambarra army in the
kingdoms of Wassela and Kaarta, and carried to Sego, where some
of them had remained three years in irons.  From Sego they
were sent, in company with a number of other captives, up the
Niger in two large canoes, and offered for sale at Yamina,
Bammakoo, and Kancaba; at which places the greater number of the
captives were bartered for gold dust, and the remainder sent
forward to Kankaree.

Eleven of them confessed to me that they had been slaves from
their infancy, but the other two refused to give any account of
their former condition.  They were all very inquisitive, but
they viewed me at first with looks of horror, and repeatedly
asked if my countrymen were cannibals.  They were very
desirous to know what became of the slaves after they had crossed
the salt water.  I told them that they were employed in
cultivating the land; but they would not believe me, and one of
them, putting his hand upon the ground, said, with great
simplicity, “Have you really got such ground as this to set
your feet upon?”  A deeply-rooted idea that the whites
purchase negroes for the purpose of devouring them, or of selling
them to others that they may be devoured hereafter, naturally
makes the slaves contemplate a journey towards the coast with
great terror, insomuch that the slatees are forced to keep them
constantly in irons, and watch them very closely, to prevent
their escape.  They are commonly secured by putting the
right leg of one and the left of another into the same pair of
fetters.  By supporting the fetters with a string, they can
walk, though very slowly.  Every four slaves are likewise
fastened together by the necks with a strong rope of twisted
thongs, and in the night an additional pair of fetters is put on
their hands, and sometimes a light iron chain passed round their
necks.

Such of them as evince marks of discontent are secured in a
different manner.  A thick billet of wood is cut about three
feet long, and, a smooth notch being made upon one side of it,
the ankle of the slave is bolted to the smooth part by means of a
strong iron staple, one prong of which passes on each side of the
ankle.  All these fetters and bolts are made from native
iron; in the present case they were put on by the blacksmith as
soon as the slaves arrived from Kancaba, and were not taken off
until the morning on which the coffle departed for Gambia.

In other respects the treatment of the slaves during their
stay at Kamalia was far from being harsh or cruel.  They
were led out in their fetters every morning to the shade of the
tamarind-tree, where they were encouraged to play at games of
hazard, and sing diverting songs, to keep up their spirits; for,
though some of them sustained the hardships of their situation
with amazing fortitude, the greater part were very much dejected,
and would sit all day in a sort of sullen melancholy, with their
eyes fixed upon the ground.  In the evening their irons were
examined, and their hand-fetters put on, after which they were
conducted into two large huts, where they were guarded during the
night by Karfa’s domestic slaves.  But,
notwithstanding all this, about a week after their arrival, one
of the slaves had the address to procure a small knife, with
which he opened the rings of his fetters, cut the rope, and made
his escape; more of them would probably have got off had they
assisted each other, but the slave no sooner found himself at
liberty than he refused to stop and assist in breaking the chain
which was fastened round the necks of his companions.

As all the slatees and slaves belonging to the coffle were now
assembled either at Kamalia or at some of the neighbouring
villages, it might have been expected that we should set out
immediately for Gambia; but though the day of our departure was
frequently fixed, it was always found expedient to change
it.  Some of the people had not prepared their dry
provisions; others had gone to visit their relations; or collect
some trifling debts; and, last of all, it was necessary to
consult whether the day would be a lucky one.  On account of
one of these, or other such causes, our departure was put off,
day after day, until the month of February was far advanced,
after which all the slatees agreed to remain in their present
quarters until the fast moon was over.  And here I
may remark that loss of time is an object of no great importance
in the eyes of a negro.  If he has anything of consequence
to perform, it is a matter of indifference to him whether he does
it to-day or to-morrow, or a month or two hence; so long as he
can spend the present moment with any degree of comfort, he gives
himself very little concern about the future.

The fast of Ramadan was observed with great strictness by all
the bushreens, but instead of compelling me to follow their
example, as the Moors did on a similar occasion, Karfa frankly
told me that I was at liberty to pursue my own inclination. 
In order, however, to manifest a respect for their religious
opinions, I voluntarily fasted three days, which was thought
sufficient to screen me from the reproachful epithet of
kafir.  During the fast all the slatees belonging to the
coffle assembled every morning in Karfa’s house, where the
schoolmaster read to them some religious lessons from a large
folio volume, the author of which was an Arab of the name of
Sheiffa.  In the evening such of the women as had embraced
Mohammedanism assembled and said their prayers publicly at the
missura.  They were all dressed in white, and went through
the different prostrations prescribed by their religion with
becoming solemnity.  Indeed, during the whole fast of
Ramadan the negroes behaved themselves with the greatest meekness
and humility, forming a striking contrast to the savage
intolerance and brutal bigotry which at this period characterise
the Moors.

When the fast month was almost at an end, the bushreens
assembled at the missura to watch for the appearance of the new
moon, but, the evening being rather cloudy, they were for some
time disappointed, and a number of them had gone home with a
resolution to fast another day, when on a sudden this delightful
object showed her sharp horns from behind a cloud, and was
welcomed with the clapping of hands, beating of drums, firing of
muskets, and other marks of rejoicing.  As this moon is
reckoned extremely lucky, Karfa gave orders that all the people
belonging to the coffle should immediately pack up their dry
provisions and hold themselves in readiness; and on the 16th of
April the slatees held a consultation and fixed on the 19th of
the same month as the day on which the coffle should depart from
Kamalia.  This resolution freed me from much uneasiness, for
our departure had already been so long deferred that I was
apprehensive it might still be put off until the commencement of
the rainy season; and although Karfa behaved towards me with the
greatest kindness, I found my situation very unpleasant. 
The slatees were unfriendly to me, and the trading Moors who were
at this time at Kamalia continued to plot mischief against me
from the first day of their arrival.  Under these
circumstances I reflected that my life in a great measure
depended on the good opinion of an individual who was daily
hearing malicious stories concerning the Europeans, and I could
hardly expect that he would always judge with impartiality
between me and his countrymen.  Time had, indeed, reconciled
me in some degree to their mode of life, and a smoky hut or a
scanty supper gave me no great uneasiness; but I became at last
wearied out with a constant state of alarm and anxiety, and felt
a painful longing for the manifold blessings of civilised
society.

April 19.—The long-wished-for day of our
departure was at length arrived; and the slatees, having taken
the irons from their slaves, assembled with them at the door of
Karfa’s house, where the bundles were all tied up, and
every one had his load assigned him.  The coffle, on its
departure from Kamalia, consisted of twenty-seven slaves for
sale, the property of Karfa and four other slatees; but we were
afterwards joined by five at Maraboo and three at
Bala—making in all thirty-five slaves.  The freemen
were fourteen in number, but most of them had one or two wives
and some domestic slaves; and the schoolmaster, who was now upon
his return for Woradoo, the place of his nativity, took with him
eight of his scholars, so that the number of free people and
domestic slaves amounted to thirty-eight, and the whole amount of
the coffle was seventy-three.  Among the freemen were six
jillikeas (singing men), whose musical talents were frequently
exerted either to divert our fatigue or obtain us a welcome from
strangers.  When we departed from Kamalia, we were followed
for about half a mile by most of the inhabitants of the town,
some of them crying and others shaking hands with their relations
who were now about to leave them; and when we had gained a piece
of rising ground, from which we had a view of Kamalia, all the
people belonging to the coffle were ordered to sit down in one
place with their faces towards the west, and the townspeople were
desired to sit down in another place with their faces towards
Kamalia.  In this situation the schoolmaster, with two of
the principal slatees, having taken their places between the two
parties, pronounced a long and solemn prayer, after which they
walked three times round the coffle, making an impression in the
ground with the ends of their spears, and muttering something by
way of charm.  When this ceremony was ended, all the people
belonging to the coffle sprang up and, without taking a formal
farewell of their friends, set forwards.  As many of the
slaves had remained for years in irons, the sudden exertion of
walking quick with heavy loads upon their heads occasioned
spasmodic contractions of their legs; and we had not proceeded
above a mile before it was found necessary to take two of them
from the rope, and allow them to walk more slowly until we
reached Maraboo, a walled village, where some people were waiting
to join the coffle.  Here we stopped about two hours, to
allow the strangers time to pack up their provisions, and then
continued our route to Bala, which town we reached about four in
the afternoon.  The inhabitants of Bala at this season of
the year subsist chiefly on fish, which they take in great plenty
from the streams in the neighbourhood.  We remained here
until the afternoon of the next day, the 20th, when we proceeded
to Worumbang, the frontier village of Manding, towards
Jallonkadoo.  As we proposed shortly to enter the Jallonka
Wilderness, the people of this village furnished us with great
plenty of provisions, and on the morning of the 21st we entered
the woods to the westward of Worumbang.  After having
travelled some little way, a consultation was held whether we
should continue our route through the wilderness, or save one
day’s provisions by going to Kinytakooro, a town in
Jallonkadoo.  After debating the matter for some time, it
was agreed that we should take the road for Kinytakooro; but as
that town was a long day’s journey distant, it was
necessary to take some refreshment.  Accordingly every
person opened his provision-bag and brought a handful or two of
meal to the place where Karfa and the slatees were sitting. 
When every one had brought his quota, and the whole was properly
arranged in small gourd-shells, the schoolmaster offered up a
short prayer, the substance of which was that God and the holy
Prophet might preserve us from robbers and all bad people, that
our provisions might never fail us, nor our limbs become
fatigued.  This ceremony being ended, every one partook of
the meal and drank a little water, after which we set forward
(rather running than walking) until we came to the river Kokoro,
a branch of the Senegal, where we halted about ten minutes. 
The banks of this river are very high, and from the grass and
brushwood which had been left by the stream it was evident that
at this place the water had risen more than twenty feet
perpendicular during the rainy season.  At this time it was
only a small stream, such as would turn a mill, swarming with
fish; and on account of the number of crocodiles, and the danger
of being carried past the ford by the force of the stream in the
rainy season, it is called Kokoro (dangerous).  From
this place we continued to travel with the greatest expedition,
and in the afternoon crossed two small branches of the
Kokoro.  About sunset we came in sight of Kinytakooro, a
considerable town, nearly square, situated in the middle of a
large and well-cultivated plain: before we entered the town, we
halted until the people who had fallen behind came up. 
During this day’s travel two slaves, a woman and a girl,
belonging to a slates of Bala, were so much fatigued that they
could not keep up with the coffle; they were severely whipped,
and dragged along until about three o’clock in the
afternoon, when they were both affected with vomiting, by which
it was discovered that they had eaten clay.  This
practice is by no means uncommon amongst the negroes; but whether
it arises from a vitiated appetite, or from a settled intention
to destroy themselves, I cannot affirm.  They were permitted
to lie down in the woods, and three people remained with them
until they had rested themselves; but they did not arrive at the
town until past midnight, and were then so much exhausted that
the slatee gave up all thoughts of taking them across the woods
in their present condition, and determined to return with them to
Bala and wait for another opportunity.

As this was the first town beyond the limits of Manding,
greater etiquette than usual was observed.  Every person was
ordered to keep in his proper station, and we marched towards the
town in a sort of procession nearly as follows:—In front
five or six singing men, all of them belonging to the coffle;
these were followed by the other free people; then came the
slaves, fastened in the usual way by a rope round their necks,
four of them to a rope, and a man with a spear between each four;
after them came the domestic slaves; and in the rear the women of
free condition, wives of the slatees, etc.  In this manner
we proceeded until we came within a hundred yards of the gate,
when the singing men began a loud song, well calculated to
flatter the vanity of the inhabitants, by extolling their known
hospitality to strangers and their particular friendship for the
Mandingoes.  When we entered the town we proceeded to the
bentang, where the people gathered round us to hear our
dentegi (history); this was related publicly by two of the
singing men—they enumerated every little circumstance which
had happened to the coffle, beginning with the events of the
present day and relating everything in a backward series until
they reached Kamalia.  When this history was ended, the
master of the town gave them a small present, and all the people
of the coffle, both free and enslaved, were invited by some
person or other and accommodated with lodging and provisions for
the night.

CHAPTER XXV.
THE JALLONKA WILDERNESS; A WARLIKE
TALE.

We continued at Kinytakooro until
noon of the 22nd of April, when we removed to a village about
seven miles to the westward, the inhabitants of which, being
apprehensive of hostilities from the Foulahs of Fooladoo, were at
this time employed in constructing small temporary huts among the
rocks, on the side of a high hill close to the village.  The
situation was almost impregnable, being everywhere surrounded
with high precipices, except on the eastern side, where the
natives had left a pathway sufficient to allow one person at a
time to ascend.  Upon the brow of the hill, immediately over
this path, I observed several heaps of large loose stones, which
the people told me were intended to be thrown down upon the
Foulahs if they should attempt the hill.

At daybreak on the 23rd we departed from this village and
entered the Jallonka Wilderness.  We passed in the course of
the morning the ruins of two small towns which had lately been
burnt by the Foulahs.  The fire must have been very intense,
for I observed that the walls of many of the huts were slightly
vitrified, and appeared at a distance as if covered with a red
varnish.  About ten o’clock we came to the river
Wonda, which is somewhat larger than the river Kokoro; but the
stream was at this time rather muddy, which Karfa assured me was
occasioned by amazing shoals of fish.  They were indeed seen
in all directions, and in such abundance that I fancied the water
itself tasted and smelt fishy.  As soon as we had crossed
the river, Karfa gave orders that all the people of the coffle
should in future keep close together, and travel in their proper
station.  The guides and young men were accordingly placed
in the van, the women and slaves in the centre, and the freemen
in the rear.  In this order we travelled with uncommon
expedition through a woody but beautiful country, interspersed
with a pleasing variety of hill and dale, and abounding with
partridges, guinea-fowl, and deer, until sunset, when we arrived
at a most romantic stream, called Co-meissang.  My arms and
neck having been exposed to the sun during the whole day, and
irritated by the rubbing of my dress in walking, were now very
much inflamed and covered with blisters, and I was happy to
embrace the opportunity, while the coffle rested on the bank of
the river, to bathe myself in the stream.  This practice,
together with the cool of the evening, much diminished the
inflammation.  About three miles to the westward of the
Co-meissang we halted in a thick wood and kindled our fires for
the night.  We were all by this time very much fatigued,
having, as I judged, travelled this day thirty miles, but no
person was heard to complain.  Whilst supper was preparing,
Karfa made one of the slaves break some branches from the trees
for my bed.  When we had finished our supper of kouskous,
moistened with some boiling water, and put the slaves in irons,
we all lay down to sleep; but we were frequently disturbed in the
night by the howling of wild beasts, and we found the small brown
ants very troublesome.

April 24.—Before daybreak the bushreens said
their morning prayers, and most of the free people drank a little
moening (a sort of gruel), part of which was likewise
given to such of the slaves as appeared least able to sustain the
fatigues of the day.  One of Karfa’s female slaves was
very sulky, and when some gruel was offered to her she refused to
drink it.  As soon as day dawned we set out, and travelled
the whole morning over a wild and rocky country, by which my feet
were much bruised, and I was sadly apprehensive that I should not
be able to keep up with the coffle during the day; but I was in a
great measure relieved from this anxiety when I observed that
others were more exhausted than myself.  In particular, the
woman slave who had refused victuals in the morning began now to
lag behind, and complain dreadfully of pains in her legs. 
Her load was taken from her and given to another slave, and she
was ordered to keep in the front of the coffle.  About
eleven o’clock, as we were resting by a small rivulet, some
of the people discovered a hive of bees in a hollow tree, and
they were proceeding to obtain the honey when the largest swarm I
ever beheld flew out, and, attacking the people of the coffle,
made us fly in all directions.  I took the alarm first, and,
I believe, was the only person who escaped with impunity. 
When our enemies thought fit to desist from pursuing us, and
every person was employed in picking out the stings he had
received, it was discovered that the poor woman above mentioned,
whose name was Nealee, was not come up; and as many of the slaves
in their retreat had left their bundles behind them, it became
necessary for some persons to return and bring them.  In
order to do this with safety, fire was set to the grass a
considerable way to the eastward of the hive, and, the wind
driving the fire furiously along, the party pushed through the
smoke and recovered the bundles.  They likewise brought with
them poor Nealee, whom they found lying by the rivulet.  She
was very much exhausted, and had crept to the stream in hopes to
defend herself from the bees by throwing water over her body; but
this proved ineffectual, for she was stung in the most dreadful
manner.

When the slatees had picked out the stings as far as they
could, she was washed with water and then rubbed with bruised
leaves; but the wretched woman obstinately refused to proceed any
farther, declaring that she would rather die than walk another
step.  As entreaties and threats were used in vain, the whip
was at length applied; and after bearing patiently a few strokes
she started up and walked with tolerable expedition for four or
five hours longer, when she made an attempt to run away from the
coffle, but was so very weak that she fell down in the
grass.  Though she was unable to rise, the whip was a second
time applied, but without effect; upon which Karfa desired two of
the slatees to place her upon the ass which carried our dry
provisions; but she could not sit erect, and the ass being very
refractory it was found impossible to carry her forward in that
manner.  The slatees, however, were unwilling to abandon
her, the day’s journey being nearly ended; they therefore
made a sort of litter of bamboo-canes, upon which she was placed,
and tied on it with slips of bark.  This litter was carried
upon the heads of two slaves, one walking before the other, and
they were followed by two others, who relieved them
occasionally.  In this manner the woman was carried forward
until it was dark, when we reached a stream of water at the foot
of a high hill called Gankaran-Kooro, and here we stopped for the
night, and set about preparing our supper.  As we had only
ate one handful of meal since the preceding night, and travelled
all day in a hot sun, many of the slaves who had loads upon their
heads were very much fatigued, and some of them snapped their
fingers, which among the negroes is a sure sign of
desperation.  The slatees immediately put them all in irons,
and such of them as had evinced signs of great despondency were
kept apart from the rest, and had their hands tied.  In the
morning they were found greatly recovered.

April 25.—At daybreak poor Nealee was awakened,
but her limbs were now become so stiff and painful that she could
neither walk nor stand; she was therefore lifted, like a corpse,
upon the back of the ass, and the slatees endeavoured to secure
her in that situation by fastening her hands together under the
ass’s neck, and her feet under the belly, with long slips
of bark; but the ass was so very unruly that no sort of treatment
could induce him to proceed with his load, and as Nealee made no
exertion to prevent herself from falling she was quickly thrown
off, and had one of her legs much bruised.  Every attempt to
carry her forward being thus found ineffectual, the general cry
of the coffle was Kang-tegi, kang-tegi (“Cut
her throat, cut her throat”)—an operation I did not
wish to see performed, and therefore marched onwards with the
foremost of the coffle.  I had not walked above a mile, when
one of Karfa’s domestic slaves came up to me, with poor
Nealea’s garment upon the end of his bow, and exclaimed,
Nealee affeeleeta (“Nealee is lost”)!  I
asked him whether the slatees had given him the garment as a
reward for cutting her throat.  He replied that Karfa and
the schoolmaster would not consent to that measure, but had left
her on the road, where undoubtedly she soon perished, and was
probably devoured by wild beasts.

The sad fate of this wretched woman, notwithstanding the
outcry before mentioned, made a strong impression on the mind of
the whole coffle, and the schoolmaster fasted the whole of the
ensuing day in consequence of it.  We proceeded in deep
silence, and soon afterwards crossed the river Furkoomah, which
was about as large as the river Wonda.  We now travelled
with great expedition, every one being apprehensive he might
otherwise meet with the fate of poor Nealee.  It was,
however, with great difficulty that I could keep up, although I
threw away my spear and everything that could in the least
obstruct me.  About noon we saw a large herd of elephants,
but they suffered us to pass unmolested; and in the evening we
halted near a thicket of bamboo, but found no water, so that we
were forced to proceed four miles farther to a small stream,
where we stopped for the night.  We had marched this day, as
I judged, about twenty-six miles.

April 26.—This morning two of the
schoolmaster’s pupils complained much of pains in their
legs, and one of the slaves walked lame, the soles of his feet
being very much blistered and inflamed; we proceeded,
notwithstanding, and about eleven o’clock began to ascend a
rocky hill called Boki-Kooro, and it was past two in the
afternoon before we reached the level ground on the other
side.  This was the most rocky road we had yet encountered,
and it hurt our feet much.  In a short time we arrived at a
pretty large river, called Boki, which we forded; it ran smooth
and clear over a bed of whinstone.  About a mile to the
westward of the river we came to a road which leads to the
north-east towards Gadou, and seeing the marks of many
horses’ feet upon the soft sand, the slatees conjectured
that a party of plunderers had lately rode that way to fall upon
some town of Gadou; and lest they should discover upon their
return that we had passed, and attempt to pursue us by the marks
of our feet, the coffle was ordered to disperse and travel in a
loose manner through the high grass and bushes.  A little
before it was dark, having crossed the ridge of hills to the
westward of the river Boki, we came to a well called Cullong
Qui (White Sand Well), and here we rested for the night.

April 27.—We departed from the well early in the
morning, and walked on with the greatest alacrity, in hopes of
reaching a town before night.  The road during the forenoon
led through extensive thickets of dry bamboos.  About two
o’clock we came to a stream called Nunkolo, where we were
each of us regaled with a handful of meal, which, according to a
superstitious custom, was not to be eaten until it was first
moistened with water from this stream.  About four
o’clock we reached Sooseeta, a small Jallonka village,
situated in the district of Kullo, which comprehends all that
tract of country lying along the banks of the Black River, or
main branch of the Senegal.  These were the first human
habitations we had seen since we left the village to the westward
of Kinytakooro, having travelled in the course of the last five
days upwards of one hundred miles.  Here, after a great deal
of entreaty, we were provided with huts to sleep in, but the
master of the village plainly told us that he could not give us
any provisions, as there had lately been a great scarcity in this
part of the country.  He assured us that, before they had
gathered in their present crops, the whole inhabitants of Kullo
had been for twenty-nine days without tasting corn, during which
time they supported themselves entirely upon the yellow powder
which is found in the pods of the nitta, so called by the
natives, a species of mimosa, and upon the seeds of the
bamboo-cane, which, when properly pounded and dressed, taste very
much like rice.  As our dry provisions were not yet
exhausted, a considerable quantity of kouskous was dressed for
supper, and many of the villagers were invited to take part of
the repast; but they made a very bad return for this kindness,
for in the night they seized upon one of the schoolmaster’s
boys, who had fallen asleep under the bentang tree, and carried
him away.  The boy fortunately awoke before he was far from
the village, and, setting up a loud scream, the man who carried
him put his hand upon his mouth and ran with him into the woods;
but afterwards understanding that he belonged to the
schoolmaster, whose place of residence is only three days’
journey distant, he thought, I suppose, that he could not retain
him as a slave without the schoolmaster’s knowledge, and
therefore stripped off the boy’s clothes and permitted him
to return.

April 28.—Early in the morning we departed from
Sooseeta, and about ten o’clock came to an unwalled town,
called Manna, the inhabitants of which were employed in
collecting the fruit of the nitta-trees, which are very numerous
in this neighbourhood.  The pods are long and narrow, and
contain a few black seeds, enveloped in the fine mealy powder
before mentioned; the meal itself is of a bright yellow colour,
resembling the flour of sulphur, and has a sweet mucilaginous
taste.  When eaten by itself it is clammy, but when mixed
with milk or water it constitutes a very pleasant and nourishing
article of diet.

The language of the people of Manna is the same that is spoken
all over that extensive and hilly country called
Jallonkadoo.  Some of the words have a great affinity to the
Mandingo, but the natives themselves consider it as a distinct
language.  Their numerals are these:—

The Jallonkas, like the Mandingoes, are governed by a number
of petty chiefs, who are in a great measure independent of each
other.  They have no common sovereign, and the chiefs are
seldom upon such terms of friendship as to assist each other even
in war-time.  The chief of Manna, with a number of his
people, accompanied us to the banks of the Bafing, or Black River
(a principal branch of the Senegal), which we crossed upon a
bridge of bamboos of a very singular construction.  The
river at this place is smooth and deep, and has very little
current.  Two tall trees, when tied together by the tops,
are sufficiently long to reach from one side to the other, the
roots resting upon the rocks, and the tops floating in the
water.  When a few trees have been placed in this direction,
they are covered with dry bamboos, so as to form a floating
bridge, with a sloping gangway at each end, where the trees rest
upon the rocks.  This bridge is carried away every year by
the swelling of the river in the rainy season, and is constantly
rebuilt by the inhabitants of Manna, who, on that account, expect
a small tribute from every passenger.

In the afternoon we passed several villages, at none of which
we could procure a lodging, and in the twilight we received
information that two hundred Jallonkas had assembled near a town
called Melo, with a view to plunder the coffle.  This
induced us to alter our course, and we travelled with great
secrecy until midnight, when we approached a town called
Koba.  Before we entered the town the names of all the
people belonging to the coffle were called over, and a freeman
and three slaves were found to be missing.  Every person
immediately concluded that the slaves had murdered the freeman
and made their escape.  It was therefore agreed that six
people should go back as far as the last village, and endeavour
to find his body, or collect some information concerning the
slaves.  In the meantime the coffle was ordered to lie
concealed in a cotton-field near a large nitta-tree, and nobody
to speak except in a whisper.  It was towards morning before
the six men returned, having heard nothing of the man or the
slaves.  As none of us had tasted victuals for the last
twenty-four hours, it was agreed that we should go into Koba and
endeavour to procure some provisions.  We accordingly
entered the town before it was quite day, and Karfa purchased
from the chief man, for three strings of beads, a considerable
quantity of ground nuts, which we roasted and ate for
breakfast.  We were afterwards provided with huts, and
rested here for the day.

About eleven o’clock, to our great joy and surprise, the
freeman and slaves who had parted from the coffle the preceding
night entered the town.  One of the slaves, it seems, had
hurt his foot, and the night being very dark they soon lost sight
of the coffle.  The freeman, as soon as he found himself
alone with the slaves was aware of his own danger, and insisted
on putting them in irons.  The slaves were at first rather
unwilling to submit, but when he threatened to stab them one by
one with his spear, they made no farther resistance; and he
remained with them among the bushes until morning, when he let
them out of irons, and came to the town in hopes of hearing which
route the coffle had taken.  The information that we
received concerning the Jallonkas who intended to rob the coffle
was this day confirmed, and we were forced to remain here until
the afternoon of the 30th, when Karfa hired a number of people to
protect us, and we proceeded to a village called
Tinkingtang.  Departing from this village on the day
following, we crossed a high ridge of mountains to the west of
the Black River, and travelled over a rough stony country until
sunset, when we arrived at Lingicotta, a small village in the
district of Woradoo.  Here we shook out the last handful of
meal from our dry provision-bags, this being the second day,
since we crossed the Black River, that we had travelled from
morning until night without tasting one morsel of food.

May 2.—We departed from Lingicotta; but the
slaves being very much fatigued, we halted for the night at a
village about nine miles to the westward, and procured some
provisions through the interest of the schoolmaster, who now sent
forward a messenger to Malacotta, his native town, to inform his
friends of his arrival in the country, and to desire them to
provide the necessary quantity of victuals to entertain the
coffle for two or three days.

May 3.—We set out for Malacotta, and about noon
arrived at a village near a considerable stream of water which
flows to the westward.  Here we determined to stop for the
return of the messenger who had been sent to Malacotta the day
before; and as the natives assured me there were no crocodiles in
this stream, I went and bathed myself.  Very few people here
can swim, for they came in numbers to dissuade me from venturing
into a pool where they said the water would come over my
head.  About two o’clock the messenger returned from
Malacotta, and the schoolmaster’s elder brother, being
impatient to see him, came along with the messenger to meet him
at this village.  The interview between the two brothers,
who had not seen each other for nine years, was very natural and
affecting.  They fell upon each other’s neck, and it
was some time before either of them could speak.  At length,
when the schoolmaster had a little recovered himself, he took his
brother by the hand, and turning round, “This is the
man,” said he, pointing to Karfa, “who has been my
father in Manding.  I would have pointed him out sooner to
you, but my heart was too full.”

We reached Malacotta in the evening, where we were well
received.  This is an unwalled town.  The huts for the
most part are made of split cane, twisted into a sort of
wicker-work, and plastered over with mud.  Here we remained
three days, and were each day presented with a bullock from the
schoolmaster.  We were likewise well entertained by the
townspeople, who appear to be very active and industrious. 
They make very good soap by boiling ground nuts in water, and
then adding a ley of wood-ashes.  They likewise manufacture
excellent iron, which they carry to Bondou to barter for
salt.  A party of the townspeople had lately returned from a
trading expedition of this kind, and brought information
concerning a war between Almami Abdulkader, king of Foota-Torra,
and Damel, king of the Jaloffs.  The events of this war soon
became a favourite subject with the singing men and the common
topic of conversation in all the kingdoms bordering upon the
Senegal and Gambia; and, as the account is somewhat singular, I
shall here abridge it for the reader’s information. 
The king of Foota-Torra, inflamed with a zeal for propagating his
religion, had sent an embassy to Damel similar to that which he
had sent to Kasson, as has been previously related.  The
ambassador on the present occasion was accompanied by two of the
principal bushreens, who carried each a large knife fixed on the
top of a long pole.  As soon as he had procured admission
into the presence of Damel, and announced the pleasure of his
Sovereign, he ordered the bushreens to present the emblems of his
mission.  The two knives were accordingly laid before Damel,
and the ambassador explained himself as
follows:—“With this knife,” said he,
“Abdulkader will condescend to shave the head of Damel, if
Damel will embrace the Mohammedan faith; and with this other
knife Abdulkader will cut the throat of Damel if Damel refuses to
embrace it: take your choice.”  Damel coolly told the
ambassador that he had no choice to make; he neither chose to
have his head shaved nor his throat cut; and with this answer the
ambassador was civilly dismissed.  Abdulkader took his
measures accordingly, and with a powerful army invaded
Damel’s country.  The inhabitants of the towns and
villages filled up their wells, destroyed their provisions,
carried off their effects, and abandoned their dwellings as he
approached.  By this means he was led on from place to
place, until he had advanced three days’ journey into the
country of the Jaloffs.  He had, indeed, met with no
opposition, but his army had suffered so much from the scarcity
of water that several of his men had died by the way.  This
induced him to direct his march towards a watering-place in the
woods, where his men, having quenched their thirst and being
overcome with fatigue, lay down carelessly to sleep among the
bushes.  In this situation they were attacked by Damel
before daybreak and completely routed.  Many of them were
trampled to death as they lay asleep by the Jaloff horses; others
were killed in attempting to make their escape; and a still
greater number were taken prisoners.  Among the latter was
Abdulkader himself.  This ambitious, or, rather, frantic
prince, who but a month before had sent the threatening message
to Damel, was now himself led into his presence as a miserable
captive.  The behaviour of Damel on this occasion is never
mentioned by the singing men but in terms of the highest
approbation; and it was indeed so extraordinary in an African
prince that the reader may find it difficult to give credit to
the recital.  When his royal prisoner was brought before him
in irons, and thrown upon the ground, the magnanimous Damel,
instead of setting his foot upon his neck and stabbing him with
his spear, according to custom in such cases, addressed him as
follows:—“Abdulkader, answer me this question. 
If the chance of war had placed me in your situation, and you in
mine, how would you have treated me?”  “I would
have thrust my spear into your heart,” returned Abdulkader,
with great firmness; “and I know that a similar fate awaits
me.”  “Not so,” said Damel; “my
spear is indeed red with the blood of your subjects, killed in
battle, and I could now give it a deeper stain by dipping it in
your own; but this would not build up my towns, nor bring to life
the thousands who fell in the woods.  I will not, therefore,
kill you in cold blood, but I will retain you as my slave, until
I perceive that your presence in your own kingdom will be no
longer dangerous to your neighbours, and then I will consider of
the proper way of disposing of you.”  Abdulkader was
accordingly retained, and worked as a slave for three months; at
the end of which period Damel listened to the solicitations of
the inhabitants of Foota-Torra, and restored to them their
king.  Strange as this story may appear, I have no doubt of
the truth of it.  It was told me at Malacotta by the
negroes; it was afterwards related to me by the Europeans on the
Gambia, by some of the French at Goree, and confirmed by nine
slaves who were taken prisoners along with Abdulkader by the
watering-place in the woods and carried in the same ship with me
to the West Indies.

CHAPTER XXVI.
MEETING WITH DR. LAIDLEY—RETURN TO
THE COAST—VOYAGE TO ENGLAND.

On the 7th of May we departed from
Malacotta, and having crossed the Ba Lee (Honey River), a
branch of the Senegal, we arrived in the evening at a walled town
called Bintingala, where we rested two days.  From thence,
in one day more, we proceeded to Dindikoo, a small town situated
at the bottom of a high ridge of hills, from which this district
is named Konkodoo (the country of mountains).  These
hills are very productive of gold.  I was shown a small
quantity of this metal which had been lately collected: the
grains were about the usual size, but much flatter than those of
Manding, and were found in white quartz, which had been broken to
pieces by hammers.  At this town I met with a negro whose
hair and skin were of a dull white colour.  He was of that
sort which are called in the Spanish West Indies albinos,
or white negroes.  The skin is cadaverous and unsightly, and
the natives considered this complexion (I believe truly) as the
effect of disease.

May 11.—At daybreak we departed from Dindikoo,
and, after a toilsome day’s travel, arrived in the evening
at Satadoo, the capital of a district of the same name. 
This town was formerly of considerable extent, but many families
had left it in consequence of the predatory incursions of the
Foulahs of Foota-Jalla, who made it a practice to come secretly
through the woods and carry off people from the cornfields and
even from the wells near the town.  In the afternoon of the
12th we crossed the Falemé River, the same which I had
formerly crossed at Bondou in my journey eastward.  This
river, at this season of the year, is easily forded at this
place, the stream being only about two feet deep.  The water
is very pure, and flows rapidly over a bed of sand and
gravel.  We lodged for the night at a small village called
Medina, the sole property of a Mandingo merchant who, by a long
intercourse with Europeans, has been induced to adopt some of
their customs.  His victuals were served up in pewter
dishes, and even his houses were built after the fashion of the
English houses on the Gambia.

May 13.—In the morning, as we were preparing to
depart, a coffle of slaves belonging to some Serawoolli traders
crossed the river, and agreed to proceed with us to Baniserile,
the capital of Dentila—a very long day’s journey from
this place.  We accordingly set out together, and travelled
with great expedition through the woods until noon, when one of
the Serawoolli slaves dropped the load from his head, for which
he was smartly whipped.  The load was replaced, but he had
not proceeded above a mile before he let it fall a second time,
for which he received the same punishment.  After this he
travelled in great pain until about two o’clock, when we
stopped to breathe a little by a pool of water, the day being
remarkably hot.  The poor slave was now so completely
exhausted that his master was obliged to release him from the
rope, for he lay motionless on the ground.  A Serawoolli,
therefore, undertook to remain with him and endeavour to bring
him to the town during the cool of the night; in the meanwhile we
continued our route, and after a very hard day’s travel,
arrived at Baniserile late in the evening.

One of our slatees was a native of this place, from which he
had been absent three years.  This man invited me to go with
him to his house, at the gate of which his friends met him with
many expressions of joy, shaking hands with him, embracing him,
and singing and dancing before him.  As soon as he had
seated himself upon a mat by the threshold of his door, a young
woman (his intended bride) brought a little water in a calabash,
and, kneeling down before him, desired him to wash his hands;
when he had done this the girl, with a tear of joy sparkling in
her eyes, drank the water—this being considered as the
greatest proof she could possibly give him of her fidelity and
attachment.  About eight o’clock the same evening the
Serawoolli who had been left in the woods to take care of the
fatigued slave returned and told us that he was dead; the general
opinion, however, was that he himself had killed him or left him
to perish on the road, for the Serawoollies are said to be
infinitely more cruel in their treatment of slaves than the
Mandingoes.  We remained at Baniserile two days, in order to
purchase native iron, shea-butter, and some other articles for
sale on the Gambia; and here the slatee who had invited me to his
house, and who possessed three slaves, part of the coffle, having
obtained information that the price on the coast was very low,
determined to separate from us and remain with his slaves where
he was until an opportunity should offer of disposing of them to
advantage—giving us to understand that he should complete
his nuptials with the young woman before mentioned in the
meantime.

May 16.—We departed from Baniserile and travelled
through thick woods until noon, when we saw at a distance the
town of Julifunda, but did not approach it, as we proposed to
rest for the night at a large town called Kirwani, which we
reached about four o’clock in the afternoon.  This
town stands in a valley, and the country for more than a mile
round it is cleared of wood and well cultivated.  The
inhabitants appear to be very active and industrious, and seem to
have carried the system of agriculture to some degree of
perfection, for they collect the dung of their cattle into large
heaps during the dry season for the purpose of manuring their
land with it at the proper time.  I saw nothing like this in
any other part of Africa.  Near the town are several
smelting furnaces, from which the natives obtain very good
iron.  They afterwards hammer the metal into small bars,
about a foot in length and two inches in breadth, one of which
bars is sufficient to make two Mandingo corn-hoes.  On the
morning after our arrival we were visited by a slatee of this
place, who informed Karfa that among some slaves he had lately
purchased was a native of Foota-Jalla, and as that country was at
no great distance he could not safely employ him in the labours
of the field, lest he should effect his escape.  The slatee
was therefore desirous of exchanging this slave for one of
Karfa’s, and offered some cloth and shea-butter to induce
Karfa to comply with the proposal, which was accepted.  The
slatee thereupon sent a boy to order the slave in question to
bring him a few ground-nuts.  The poor creature soon
afterwards entered the court in which we were sitting, having no
suspicion of what was negotiating, until the master caused the
gate to be shut, and told him to sit down.  The slave now
saw his danger, and, perceiving the gate to be shut upon him,
threw down the nuts and jumped over the fence.  He was
immediately pursued and overtaken by the slatees, who brought him
back and secured him in irons, after which one of Karfa’s
slaves was released and delivered in exchange.  The
unfortunate captive was at first very much dejected, but in the
course of a few days his melancholy gradually subsided, and he
became at length as cheerful as any of his companions.

Departing from Kirwani on the morning of the 20th we entered
the Tenda Wilderness, of two days’ journey.  The woods
were very thick, and the country shelved towards the
south-west.  About ten o’clock we met a coffle of
twenty-six people and seven loaded asses returning from the
Gambia.  Most of the men were armed with muskets, and had
broad belts of scarlet cloth over their shoulders and European
hats upon their heads.  They informed us that there was very
little demand for slaves on the coast, as no vessel had arrived
for some months past.  On hearing this the Serawoollies, who
had travelled with us from the Falemé River, separated
themselves and their slaves from the coffle.  They had not,
they said, the means of maintaining their slaves in Gambia until
a vessel should arrive, and were unwilling to sell them to
disadvantage; they therefore departed to the northward for
Kajaaga.  We continued our route through the wilderness, and
travelled all day through a rugged country covered with extensive
thickets of bamboo.  At sunset, to our great joy, we arrived
at a pool of water near a large tabba-tree, whence the place is
called Tabbagee, and here we rested a few hours.  The water
at this season of the year is by no means plentiful in these
woods, and as the days were insufferably hot Karfa proposed to
travel in the night.  Accordingly about eleven o’clock
the slaves were taken out of their irons, and the people of the
coffle received orders to keep close together, as well to prevent
the slaves from attempting to escape as on account of the wild
beasts.  We travelled with great alacrity until daybreak,
when it was discovered that a free woman had parted from the
coffle in the night; her name was called until the woods
resounded, but, no answer being given, we conjectured that she
had either mistaken the road or that a lion had seized her
unperceived.  At length it was agreed that four people
should go back a few miles to a small rivulet, where some of the
coffle had stopped to drink as we passed it in the night, and
that the coffle should wait for their return.  The sun was
about an hour high before the people came back with the woman,
whom they found lying fast asleep by the stream.  We now
resumed our journey, and about eleven o’clock reached a
walled town called Tambacunda, where we were well received. 
Here we remained four days on account of a palaver which was held
on the following occasion:—Modi Lemina, one of the slatees
belonging to the coffle, had formerly married a woman of this
town, who had borne him two children; he afterwards went to
Manding, and remained there eight years without sending any
account of himself during all that time to his deserted wife,
who, seeing no prospect of his return, at the end of three years
had married another man, to whom she had likewise borne two
children.  Lemina now claimed his wife; but the second
husband refused to deliver her up, insisting that by the laws of
Africa when a man has been three years absent from his wife,
without giving her notice of his being alive, the woman is at
liberty to marry again.  After all the circumstances had
been fully investigated in an assembly of the chief men, it was
determined that the wife should make her choice, and be at
liberty either to return to the first husband, or continue with
the second, as she alone should think proper.  Favourable as
this determination was to the lady, she found it a difficult
matter to make up her mind, and requested time for consideration;
but I think I could perceive that first love would carry
the day.  Lemina was indeed somewhat older than his rival,
but he was also much richer.  What weight this circumstance
had in the scale of his wife’s affections I pretend not to
say.

On the morning of the 26th, as we departed from Tambacunda,
Karfa observed to me that there were no shea-trees farther to the
westward than this town.  I had collected and brought with
me from Manding the leaves and flowers of this tree, but they
were so greatly bruised on the road that I thought it best to
gather another specimen at this place.  The appearance of
the fruit evidently places the shea-tree in the natural order of
Sapotæ, and it has some resemblance to the
mudhuca tree described by Lieutenant Charles Hamilton in
the “Asiatic Researches,” vol. i., p. 300.

About one o’clock on the morning of the 26th we reached
Sibikillin, a walled village; but the inhabitants having the
character of inhospitality towards strangers, and of being much
addicted to theft, we did not think proper to enter the
gate.  We rested a short time under a tree, and then
continued our route until it was dark, when we halted for the
night by a small stream running towards the Gambia.  Next
day the road led over a wild and rocky country, everywhere rising
into hills and abounding with monkeys and wild beasts.  In
the rivulets among the hills we found great plenty of fish. 
This was a very hard day’s journey; and it was not until
sunset that we reached the village of Koomboo, near to which are
the ruins of a large town formerly destroyed by war.  The
inhabitants of Koomboo, like those of Sibikillin, have so bad a
reputation that strangers seldom lodge in the village; we
accordingly rested for the night in the fields, where we erected
temporary huts for our protection, there being great appearance
of rain.

May 28.—We departed from Koomboo, and slept at a
Foulah town, about seven miles to the westward; from which, on
the day following, having crossed a considerable branch of the
Gambia, called Neola Koba, we reached a well-inhabited part of
the country.  Here are several towns within sight of each
other, collectively called Tenda, but each is distinguished also
by its particular name.  We lodged at one of them, called
Koba Tenda, where we remained the day following, in order to
procure provisions for our support in crossing the Simbani
woods.  On the 30th we reached Jallacotta, a considerable
town, but much infested by Foulah banditti, who come through the
woods from Bondou and steal everything they can lay their hands
on.  A few days before our arrival they had stolen twenty
head of cattle, and on the day following made a second attempt,
but were beaten off and one of them was taken prisoner. 
Here one of the slaves belonging to the coffle, who had travelled
with great difficulty for the last three days, was found unable
to proceed any farther: his master (a singing man) proposed
therefore to exchange him for a young slave girl belonging to one
of the townspeople.  The poor girl was ignorant of her fate
until the bundles were all tied up in the morning, and the coffle
ready to depart, when, coming with some other young women to see
the coffle set out, her master took her by the hand, and
delivered her to the singing man.  Never was a face of
serenity more suddenly changed into one of the deepest distress;
the terror she manifested on having the load put upon her head
and the rope fastened round her neck, and the sorrow with which
she bade adieu to her companions, were truly affecting. 
About nine o’clock we crossed a large plain covered with
ciboa-trees (a species of palm), and came to the river
Nerico, a branch of the Gambia.  This was but a small river
at this time, but in the rainy season it is often dangerous to
travellers.  As soon as we had crossed this river, the
singing men began to vociferate a particular song, expressive of
their joy at having got safe into the west country, or, as they
expressed it, the land of the setting sun.  The
country was found to be very level, and the soil a mixture of
clay and sand.  In the afternoon it rained hard, and we had
recourse to the common negro umbrella, a large ciboa-leaf, which,
being placed upon the head, completely defends the whole body
from the rain.  We lodged for the night under the shade of a
large tabba-tree, near the ruins of a village.  On the
morning following we crossed a stream called Noulico, and about
two o’clock, to my infinite joy, I saw myself once more on
the banks of the Gambia, which at this place, being deep and
smooth, is navigable; but the people told me that a little lower
down the stream is so shallow that the coffles frequently cross
it on foot.

June 2.—We departed from Seesukunda and passed a
number of villages, at none of which was the coffle permitted to
stop, although we were all very much fatigued.  It was four
o’clock in the afternoon before we reached Baraconda, where
we rested one day.  Departing from Baraconda on the morning
of the 4th, we reached in a few hours Medina, the capital of the
king of Woolli’s dominions, from whom the reader may
recollect I received an hospitable reception in the beginning of
December, 1795, in my journey eastward.  I immediately
inquired concerning the health of my good old benefactor, and
learned with great concern that he was dangerously ill.  As
Karfa would not allow the coffle to stop, I could not present my
respects to the king in person, but I sent him word by the
officer to whom we paid customs that his prayers for my safety
had not been unavailing.  We continued our route until
sunset, when we lodged at a small village a little to the
westward of Kootacunda, and on the day following arrived at
Jindey, where, eighteen months before, I had parted from my
friend Dr. Laidley—an interval during which I had not
beheld the face of a Christian, nor once heard the delightful
sound of my native language.

Being now arrived within a short distance of Pisania, from
whence my journey originally commenced, and learning that my
friend Karfa was not likely to meet with an immediate opportunity
of selling his slaves on the Gambia, it occurred to me to suggest
to him that he would find it for his interest to leave them at
Jindey until a market should offer.  Karfa agreed with me in
this opinion, and hired from the chief man of the town huts for
their accommodation, and a piece of land on which to employ them
in raising corn and other provisions for their maintenance. 
With regard to himself, he declared that he would not quit me
until my departure from Africa.  We set out
accordingly—Karfa, myself, and one of the Foulahs belonging
to the coffle—early on the morning of the 9th; but although
I was now approaching the end of my tedious and toilsome journey,
and expected in another day to meet with countrymen and friends,
I could not part for the last time with my unfortunate
fellow-travellers—doomed, as I knew most of them to be, to
a life of captivity and slavery in a foreign land—without
great emotion.  During a wearisome peregrination of more
than five hundred British miles, exposed to the burning rays of a
tropical sun, these poor slaves, amidst their own infinitely
greater sufferings, would commiserate mine, and, frequently of
their own accord, bring water to quench my thirst, and at night
collect branches and leaves to prepare me a bed in the
wilderness.  We parted with reciprocal expressions of regret
and benediction.  My good wishes and prayers were all I
could bestow upon them, and it afforded me some consolation to be
told that they were sensible I had no more to give.

My anxiety to get forward admitting of no delay on the road,
we reached Tendacunda in the evening, and were hospitably
received at the house of an aged black female called Seniora
Camilla, a person who resided many years at the English factory
and spoke our language.  I was known to her before I had
left the Gambia at the outset of my journey, but my dress and
figure were now so different from the usual appearance of a
European that she was very excusable in mistaking me for a
Moor.  When I told her my name and country she surveyed me
with great astonishment, and seemed unwilling to give credit to
the testimony of her senses.  She assured me that none of
the traders on the Gambia ever expected to see me again, having
been informed long ago that the Moors of Ludamar had murdered me,
as they had murdered Major Houghton.  I inquired for my two
attendants, Johnson and Demba, and learnt with great sorrow that
neither of them was returned.  Karfa, who had never before
heard people converse in English, listened to us with great
attention.  Everything he saw seemed wonderful.  The
furniture of the house, the chairs, &c., and particularly
beds with curtains, were objects of his great admiration, and he
asked me a thousand questions concerning the utility and
necessity of different articles, to some of which I found it
difficult to give satisfactory answers.

On the morning of the 10th Mr. Robert Ainsley, having learned
that I was at Tendacunda, came to meet me, and politely offered
me the use of his horse.  He informed me that Dr. Laidley
had removed all his property to a place called Kayee, a little
farther down the river, and that he was then gone to Doomasansa
with his vessel to purchase rice, but would return in a day or
two.  He therefore invited me to stay with him at Pisania
until the doctor’s return.  I accepted the invitation,
and being accompanied by my friend Karfa, reached Pisania about
ten o’clock.  Mr. Ainsley’s schooner was lying
at anchor before the place.  This was the most surprising
object which Karfa had yet seen.  He could not easily
comprehend the use of the masts, sails, and rigging; nor did he
conceive that it was possible, by any sort of contrivance, to
make so large a body move forwards by the common force of the
wind.  The manner of fastening together the different planks
which composed the vessel, and filling up the seams so as to
exclude the water, was perfectly new to him; and I found that the
schooner, with her cable and anchor, kept Karfa in deep
meditation the greater part of the day.

About noon on the 12th Dr. Laidley returned from Doomasansa
and received me with great joy and satisfaction, as one risen
from the dead.  Finding that the wearing apparel which I had
left under his care was not sold or sent to England, I lost no
time in resuming the English dress and disrobing my chin of its
venerable encumbrance.  Karfa surveyed me in my British
apparel with great delight, but regretted exceedingly that I had
taken off my beard, the loss of which, he said, had converted me
from a man into a boy.  Dr. Laidley readily undertook to
discharge all the pecuniary engagements which I had entered into
since my departure from the Gambia, and took my draft upon the
association for the amount.  My agreement with Karfa (as I
have already related) was to pay him the value of one prime
slave, for which I had given him my bill upon Dr. Laidley before
we departed from Kamalia; for in case of my death on the road I
was unwilling that my benefactor should be a loser.  But
this good creature had continued to manifest towards me so much
kindness that I thought I made him but an inadequate recompense
when I told him that he was now to receive double the sum I had
originally promised; and Dr. Laidley assured him that he was
ready to deliver the goods to that amount whenever he thought
proper to send for them.  Karfa was overpowered by this
unexpected token of my gratitude, and still more so when he heard
that I intended to send a handsome present to the good old
schoolmaster, Fankooma, at Malacotta.  He promised to carry
up the goods along with his own; and Dr. Laidley assured him that
he would exert himself in assisting him to dispose of his slaves
to the best advantage the moment a slave vessel should
arrive.  These and other instances of attention and kindness
shown him by Dr. Laidley were not lost upon Karfa.  He would
often say to me, “My journey has indeed been
prosperous!” But observing the improved state of our
manufactures and our manifest superiority in the arts of
civilised life, he would sometimes appear pensive, and exclaim,
with an involuntary sigh, Fato fing inta feng
(“Black men are nothing”)!  At other times he
would ask me, with great seriousness, what could possibly have
induced me, who was no trader, to think of exploring so miserable
a country as Africa.  He meant by this to signify that,
after what I must have witnessed in my own country, nothing in
Africa could in his opinion deserve a moment’s
attention.  I have preserved these little traits of
character in this worthy negro, not only from regard to the man,
but also because they appear to me to demonstrate that he
possessed a mind above his condition.  And to such of
my readers as love to contemplate human nature in all its
varieties, and to trace its progress from rudeness to refinement,
I hope the account I have given of this poor African will not be
unacceptable.

No European vessel had arrived at Gambia for many months
previous to my return from the interior, and as the rainy season
was now setting in I persuaded Karfa to return to his people at
Jindey.  He parted with me on the 14th with great
tenderness; but as I had little hopes of being able to quit
Africa for the remainder of the year, I told him, as the fact
was, that I expected to see him again before my departure. 
In this, however, I was luckily disappointed, and my narrative
now hastens to its conclusion; for on the 15th, the ship
Charlestown, an American vessel, commanded by Mr. Charles
Harris, entered the river.  She came for slaves, intending
to touch at Goree to fill up, and to proceed from thence to South
Carolina.  As the European merchants on the Gambia had at
this time a great many slaves on hand, they agreed with the
captain to purchase the whole of his cargo, consisting chiefly of
rum and tobacco, and deliver him slaves to the amount in the
course of two days.  This afforded me such an opportunity of
returning, though by a circuitous route, to my native country as
I thought was not to be neglected.  I therefore immediately
engaged my passage in this vessel for America; and having taken
leave of Dr. Laidley, to whose kindness I was so largely
indebted, and my other friends on the river, I embarked at Kayee
on the 17th day of June.

Our passage down the river was tedious and fatiguing; and the
weather was so hot, moist, and unhealthy, that before our arrival
at Goree four of the seamen, the surgeon, and three of the slaves
had died of fevers.  At Goree we were detained, for want of
provisions, until the beginning of October.

The number of slaves received on board this vessel, both on
the Gambia and at Goree, was one hundred and thirty, of whom
about twenty-five had been, I suppose, of free condition in
Africa, as most of those, being bushreens, could write a little
Arabic.  Nine of them had become captives in the religious
war between Abdulkader and Damel, mentioned in the latter part of
the preceding chapter.  Two of the others had seen me as I
passed through Bondou, and many of them had heard of me in the
interior countries.  My conversation with them, in their
native language, gave them great comfort; and as the surgeon was
dead I consented to act in a medical capacity in his room for the
remainder of the voyage.  They had in truth need of every
consolation in my power to bestow; not that I observed any wanton
acts of cruelty practised either by the master or the seamen
towards them, but the mode of confining and securing negroes in
the American slave-ships (owing chiefly to the weakness of their
crews) being abundantly more rigid and severe than in British
vessels employed in the same traffic, made these poor creatures
to suffer greatly, and a general sickness prevailed amongst
them.  Besides the three who died on the Gambia, and six or
eight while we remained at Goree, eleven perished at sea, and
many of the survivors were reduced to a very weak and emaciated
condition.

In the midst of these distresses the vessel, after having been
three weeks at sea, became so extremely leaky as to require
constant exertion at the pumps.  It was found necessary
therefore to take some of the ablest of the negro men out of
irons and employ them in this labour, in which they were often
worked beyond their strength.  This produced a complication
of miseries not easily to be described.  We were, however,
relieved much sooner than I expected, for, the leak continuing to
gain upon us, notwithstanding our utmost exertions to clear the
vessel, the seamen insisted on bearing away for the West Indies,
as affording the only chance of saving our lives. 
Accordingly, after some objections on the part of the master, we
directed our course for Antigua, and fortunately made that island
in about thirty-five days after our departure from Goree. 
Yet even at this juncture we narrowly escaped destruction, for on
approaching the north-west side of the island we struck on the
Diamond Rock and got into St. John’s Harbour with great
difficulty.  The vessel was afterwards condemned as unfit
for sea, and the slaves, as I have heard, were ordered to be sold
for the benefit of the owners.

At this island I remained ten days, when the
Chesterfield packet, homeward bound from the Leeward
Islands, touching at St. John’s for the Antigua mail, I
took my passage in that vessel.  We sailed on the 24th of
November, and after a short but tempestuous voyage arrived at
Falmouth on the 22nd of December, from whence I immediately set
out for London; having been absent from England two years and
seven months.

NOTE.

The following passage from James
Montgomery’s poem, “The West Indies,” published
in 1810, was inspired by “Mungo Park’s Travels in the
Interior of Africa.”  It enshrines in English verse
the beautiful incident of the negro woman’s song of
“Charity” (on page 190 of the first of these two
volumes), and closes with the poet’s blessing upon Mungo
Park himself, who had sailed five years before upon the second
journey, from which he had not returned, and whose fate did not
become known until five years later.

Man, through all ages of revolving time,
Unchanging man, in every varying clime,
Deems his own land of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven o’er all the world beside;
His home the spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.

   And is the Negro outlawed from his birth?
Is he alone a stranger on the earth?
Is there no shed whose peeping roof appears
So lovely that it fills his eyes with tears?
No land, whose name, in exile heard, will dart
Ice through his veins and lightning through his heart?
Ah! yes; beneath the beams of brighter skies
His home amidst his father’s country lies;
There with the partner of his soul he shares
Love-mingled pleasures, love-divided cares;
There, as with nature’s warmest filial fire,
He soothes his blind and feeds his helpless sire;
His children, sporting round his hut, behold
How they shall cherish him when he is old,
Trained by example from their tenderest youth
To deeds of charity and words of truth.
Is he not blest?  Behold, at closing day,
The Negro village swarms abroad to play;
He treads the dance, through all its rapturous rounds,
To the wild music of barbarian sounds;
Or, stretched at ease where broad palmettos shower
Delicious coolness in his shadowy bower,
He feasts on tales of witchcraft, that give birth
To breathless wonder or ecstatic mirth:
Yet most delighted when, in rudest rhymes,
The minstrel wakes the song of elder times,
When men were heroes, slaves to Beauty’s charms,
And all the joys of life were love and arms.
Is not the Negro blest?  His generous soil
With harvest plenty crowns his simple toil;
More than his wants his flocks and fields afford:
He loves to greet a stranger at his board:
“The winds were roaring and the White Man fled;
The rains of night descended on his head;
The poor White Man sat down beneath our tree:
Weary and faint and far from home was he:
For him no mother fills with milk the bowl,
No wife prepares the bread to cheer his soul.
Pity the poor White Man, who sought our tree;
No wife, no mother, and no home has he.”
Thus sung the Negro’s daughters;—once again,
O that the poor White Man might hear that strain!
Whether the victim of the treacherous Moor,
Or from the Negro’s hospitable door
Spurned as a spy from Europe’s hateful clime,
And left to perish for thy country’s crime,
Or destined still, when all thy wanderings cease,
On Albion’s lovely lap to rest in peace,
Pilgrim! in heaven or earth, where’er thou be,
Angels of mercy guide and comfort thee!

A note to the same poem gives the following record of facts,
substantiated in a court of justice, in which there can be only
one answer to the question, “Which were the
savages?”

“In this year (1783) certain underwriters
desired to be heard against Gregson and others of Liverpool, in
the case of the ship Zong, Captain Collingwood, alleging
that the captain and officers of the said vessel threw overboard
one hundred and thirty-two slaves alive into the sea, in order to
defraud them by claiming the value of the said slaves, as if they
had been lost in a natural way.  In the course of the trial
which afterwards came on, it appeared that the slaves on board
the Zong were very sickly; that sixty of them had already
died, and several were ill and likely to die, when the captain
proposed to James Kelsal, the mate, and others to throw several
of them overboard, stating that ‘if they died a natural
death, the loss would fall upon the owners of the ship, but that
if they were thrown into the sea, it would fall upon the
underwriters.’  He selected accordingly one hundred
and thirty-two of the most sickly of the slaves.  Fifty-four
of these were immediately thrown overboard, and forty-two were
made to be partakers of their fate on the succeeding day. 
In the course of three days afterwards the remaining twenty-six
were brought upon deck to complete the number of victims. 
The first sixteen submitted to be thrown into the sea, but the
rest, with a noble resolution, would not suffer the offices to
touch them, but leaped after their companions and shared their
fate.

“The plea which was set up in behalf of this atrocious
and unparalleled act of wickedness was that the captain
discovered, when he made the proposal, that he had only two
hundred gallons of water on board, and that he had missed his
port.  It was proved, however, in answer to this, that no
one had been put upon short allowance; and that, as if Providence
had determined to afford an unequivocal proof of the guilt, a
shower of rain fell, and continued for three days, immediately
after the second lot of slaves had been destroyed, by means of
which they might have filled many of their vessels with water,
and thus have prevented all necessity for the destruction of the
third.

“Mr. Granville Sharp (who after many years of struggle
first obtained the decision of a court of justice that there
are no slaves in England) was present at this trial, and
procured the attendance of a shorthand writer to take down the
facts which should come out in the course of it.  These he
gave to the public afterwards.  He communicated them also,
with a copy of the trial, to the Lords of the Admiralty, as the
guardians of justice upon the seas, and to the Duke of Portland,
as principal Minister of state.  No notice, however, was
taken by any of these of the information which had been thus sent
them.”

Another incident of the Middle Passage suggested to James
Montgomery a poem called “The Voyage of the
Blind.”

“It was that fatal and perfidious bark,
Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark.”

Milton’s Lycidas.

The ship Le Rodeur, Captain B., of 200 tons burthen,
left Havre on the 24th of January, 1819, for the coast of Africa,
and reached her destination on the 14th of March following,
anchoring at Bonny, on the river Calabar.  The crew,
consisting of twenty-two men, enjoyed good health during the
outward voyage and during their stay at Bonny, where they
continued till the 6th of April.  They had observed no trace
of ophthalmia among the natives; and it was not until fifteen
days after they had set sail on the return voyage, and the vessel
was near the equator, that they perceived the first symptoms of
this frightful malady.  It was then remarked that the
negroes, who to the number of 160 were crowded together in the
hold and between the decks, had contracted a considerable redness
of the eyes, which spread with singular rapidity.  No great
attention was at first paid to these symptoms, which were thought
to be caused only by the want of air in the hold, and by the
scarcity of water, which had already begun to be felt.  At
this time they were limited to eight ounces of water a day for
each person, which quantity was afterwards reduced to the half of
a wine-glass.  By the advice of M. Maugnan, the surgeon of
the ship, the negroes, who had hitherto remained shut up in the
hold, were brought upon deck in succession, in order that they
might breathe a purer air.  But it became necessary to
abandon this expedient, salutary as it was, because many of the
negroes, affected with nostalgia (a passionate longing to
return to their native land), threw themselves into the sea,
locked in each other’s arms.

The disease, which had spread itself so rapidly and
frightfully among the Africans, soon began to infect all on
board.  The danger also was greatly increased by a malignant
dysentery which prevailed at the time.  The first of the
crew who caught it was a sailor who slept under the deck near the
grated hatch which communicated with the hold.  The next day
a landsman was seized with ophthalmia; and in three days more the
captain and the whole ship’s company, except one sailor,
who remained at the helm, were blinded by the disorder.

All means of cure which the surgeon employed, while he was
able to act, proved ineffectual.  The sufferings of the
crew, which were otherwise intense, were aggravated by
apprehension of revolt among the negroes, and the dread of not
being able to reach the West Indies, if the only sailor who had
hitherto escaped the contagion, and on whom their whole hope
rested, should lose his sight, like the rest.  This calamity
had actually befallen the Leon, a Spanish vessel which the
Rodeur met on her passage, and the whole of whose crew,
having become blind, were under the necessity of altogether
abandoning the direction of their ship.  These unhappy
creatures, as they passed, earnestly entreated the charitable
interference of the seamen of the Rodeur; but these, under
their own affliction, could neither quit their vessel to go on
board the Leon, nor receive the crew of the latter into
the Rodeur, where, on account of the cargo of negroes,
there was scarcely room for themselves.  The vessels
therefore soon parted company, and the Leon was never seen
nor heard of again, so far as could be traced at the publication
of this narrative.  In all probability, then, it was
lost.  On the fate of this vessel the poem is
founded.

The Rodeur reached Guadaloupe on the 21st of June,
1819, her crew being in a most deplorable condition.  Of the
negroes, thirty-seven had become perfectly blind, twelve had lost
each an eye, and fourteen remained otherwise blemished by the
disease.  Of the crew, twelve, including the surgeon, had
entirely lost their sight; five escaped with an eye each, and
four were partially injured.

FOOTNOTES.

[7]  I should have before observed that
I found the language of Bambarra a sort of corrupted
Mandingo.  After a little practice, I understood and spoke
it without difficulty.

[35]  There is another town of this
name hereafter to be mentioned.

[58]  From a plant called kabba,
that climbs like a vine upon the trees.

[80]  Soon after baptism the children
are marked in different parts of the skin, in a manner resembling
what is called tattooing in the South Sea Islands.

[82]  Chap. xxxi. vv. 26–28.

[92]   Poisoned arrows are used
chiefly in war.  The poison, which is said to be very
deadly, is prepared from a shrub called koono (a species
of echites), which is very common in the woods.  The
leaves of this shrub, when boiled with a small quantity of water,
yield a thick black juice, into which the negroes dip a cotton
thread: this thread they fasten round the iron of the arrow in
such a manner that it is almost impossible to extract the arrow,
when it has sunk beyond the barbs, without leaving the iron point
and the poisoned thread in the wound.

[93]  A minkalli is a quantity of gold
nearly equal in value to ten shillings sterling.

[104]  This is a large, spreading tree
(a species of sterculia) under which the bentang is
commonly placed.

[109]  When a negro takes up goods on
credit from any of the Europeans on the coast, and does not make
payment at the time appointed, the European is authorised by the
laws of the country to seize upon the debtor himself, if he can
find him, or, if he cannot be found, on any person of his family;
or, in the last resort, on any native of the same
kingdom.  The person thus seized on is detained, while
his friends are sent in quest of the debtor.  When he is
found, a meeting is called of the chief people of the place, and
the debtor is compelled to ransom his friend by fulfilling his
engagements.  If he is unable to do this, his person is
immediately secured and sent down to the coast, and the other
released.  If the debtor cannot be found, the person seized
on is obliged to pay double the amount of the debt, or is himself
sold into slavery.  I was given to understand, however, that
this part of the law is seldom enforced.