SOME years ago I was asked to accompany two gentlemen on a journey to one of the then least-known provinces of Madagascar, that occupied by the Sihànaka or lake-dwellers. Two of our party took surveying instruments with them, and we were thus able to prepare the first accurate map of the Antsihànaka province.

My companions on this journey were the late Rev. Dr Mullens, then Foreign Secretary of the London Missionary Society, and the late Rev. John Pillans, one of the directors of the same society, and most pleasant and genial companions they were. Dr Mullens was very fond of a joke and enjoyed recalling humorous passages from Dickens or from Punch; he was also a born geographer and had a wonderful eye for the beautiful and the picturesque in scenery. Mr Pillans was a graver man, but one of solid worth and good judgment; and in the tent which we carried with us we three had many a happy evening together. Like all journeys made in those days, this one was performed in the filanjàna or light palanquin; and not only did Dr Mullens, with an azimuth compass, take angles and bearings for the map, but he also took a number of photographs all along our route. I had with me a good theodolite, so that we were able to compare and check each other’s observations.

A few words may be said here about the position of the Antsihànaka province. Repeated reference has been already made in this book to the double belt of forest which runs for several hundred miles along the eastern side of Madagascar. A glance at a physical map of the island will show that, at about the seventeenth parallel of south latitude, this double line unites into one broader belt, becoming very wide west of Antongil Bay. It is the open country south of the junction of the two forests that forms the home of the Sihànaka tribe. This valley or plain, for it is enclosed on each side by forest-covered ranges of hills, is about thirty miles across; it is perfectly level, and the greater portion of it is marsh; and at the north-eastern corner of the marsh is a fine lake called Alaotra, which communicates with the sea by the river Màningòry. It seems probable that the people came up from the coast by the valley of this river, and then settled on the edges of the plain, as their villages are most numerous around the north-eastern bay of the lake; while there is a large tract of fertile country to the south of them which is almost entirely without inhabitants. The name of the people is no doubt derived from the character of the country they inhabit, for the verb mihànaka means to spread out as a liquid, as ink on blotting-paper, for instance. Hànaka is also used as a synonym for the words meaning lake, pool, etc. Until about the commencement of the past century the Sihànaka were independent of any external authority, but at that period they were conquered by the Hova, although not without a severe struggle. After that they quietly submitted to the central government, and until the French conquest (1895) their two chief towns were garrisoned by Hova officers and soldiers, as at the time of our visit. No European missionary had then lived in Antsihànaka, and the congregations and schools we saw, wherever we went, were largely the result of the work of a Hova evangelist, who lived among the people for two or three years.[16]

After two days’ journey over high moory country, and then over a range of mountains called Ambòhitsitàkatra, from which we took a number of compass bearings, we arrived on a Friday afternoon at the village of Anjozòrobé (“At much papyrus”), a place containing about seventy houses pretty closely packed together within a circular fence of prickly pear and other spiny shrubs. It was built on rising ground overlooking a level plain to the north-west, evidently a former lake-bottom, through which the river Mànanàra flows in a very serpentine course to join the Bétsibòka. We crossed the river, here about thirty yards wide, with a strong body of water, by a bridge of two massive balks of timber supported by a rough pier of stones in the centre, and then ascended by a very steep path to the neat chapel, which stood in a compound a little way from the village. We took up our quarters in this clean whitewashed building; and here I may remark that in former times the rude village chapels generally formed the missionary’s “Travellers’ Bungalow.” They were usually not encumbered with pews or seats, or, indeed, much furniture or fittings of any kind; they were more roomy than the native houses and generally much cleaner, at least they had no soot hanging in festoons from the roof; so that they formed very convenient resting-places for a missionary traveller, and a favourable place for meeting the people and prescribing for their ailments.

We had intended to proceed northwards on the following day, but as we had to pass through the inner belt of forest and enter on entirely unknown ground, as to which we could get no definite information with regard to villages or congregations, we eventually determined to stay at Anjozòrobé over the Sunday. Saturday morning was occupied in ascending a mountain, four or five miles distant to the north (Ambòhimiàrimbé—i.e. “The High Uplifting One”), to take bearings, etc., and the afternoon in taking photographs of the village and river valley.

On Monday morning we resumed our journey northward, and towards midday entered the belt of forest which covers that western line of hills of which I have already spoken. We had been approaching it obliquely in a north-north-east direction for the last two days. An ascent of about five hundred feet brought us to the summit, for the road passes along the narrow knife-edge-like ridge of the very highest point, a hill called Ambàravàrambàto (“At the Stone Gateway”), having two heads of almost equal height, with a depression between them. These points, from their peculiar outline, gave us a useful landmark to connect our journey northwards with the ground we had already traversed. Soon after noon we stopped for a few minutes at the top, and had an extensive view all around us. North and south, the line of forest-covered hills dividing Imèrina from the lower plateau of Ankay stretched away on either hand into the far distance. Behind us were the bare hills and downs of Imèrina, before us the Ankay plain, many of the low hills covered, and almost every valley filled, with bright green woods. Beyond this were lines of hills increasing in height until they met the mountains of Béfòrona and Anàlamazàotra, clothed with the broader of the two belts of forest which run down the eastern side of Madagascar. Far to the north in the dim distance we could just see the southern portion of the Antsihànaka plain. A very steep descent, first down an exceedingly rugged kind of stone staircase, and then through dense wood, hardly allowing passage for the palanquin in several places, brought us down to a charming valley between two great spurs of the hills. After about an hour more we came to a little village, where we were glad to get some rest and food after six or seven hours’ hard travelling. The aneroid informed us that we had descended more than one thousand two hundred feet from the summit of the hill, and about seven hundred feet from the upper plateau of Imèrina. We had to pitch the tent in the open plain that night, for a village of which we had heard, and had expected to be a good-sized place, proved to be only a collection of eight or nine miserable huts, scattered about in twos and threes.

The following day our journey northward was over a pleasant undulating country, but almost entirely uninhabited; here and there were solitary houses far apart from each other, but no villages. On the bare downs we frequently came across ant-hills, about two feet high and formed of the greyish soil. It is said by the people all over the island that a serpent called Rènivìtsika (i.e. “mother of ants”) is enticed by these ants into its nest, and is then fattened, killed and eaten by them. The Hova in the centre of the island, the Bétsiléo in the south, the Sàkalàva in the west, and Sihànaka in the north-east, all affirm that this is a fact; and it seems difficult to doubt their united testimony. After a long ride of six hours we at last came to a group of six or seven houses called Andrànokòbaka, where we rested for a time and had tiffin. This place appeared to be the first of the Sihànaka villages from the south. There was an evident difference in the appearance of the people; the women reminded me of the Bétsimisàraka on the east coast, and both men and women had their hair plaited in a great number of little ropes ending in a knot, and hanging loosely all round the head. The women and children, even those who had no kind of clothing, all had some kind of ornament: necklaces of red beads or silver chains, and armlets of silver, a striking contrast to the lower class of Hovas, who only put on ornaments on extraordinary occasions. The village smelt strongly of tòaka, the native rum, and the quantities of chopped sugar-cane, from which the spirit is made, lying about the place, all told of the liking of the people for strong drink.

This indeed is one of the flagrant evils common among the Sihànaka, as it is also of many of the outlying tribes. My friend, Mr Stribling, who lived among these people for several years, gives the following incident illustrating the power which rum has over them:—

We encamped again in the open grassy plain, near two or three houses and a cattle-fold; and the following morning proceeded on our journey to the north-north-east. An hour and a half’s ride brought us to two considerable villages near an extensive rice-valley. Here we were surprised to see the fields dotted over with round stacks of rice with conical heads, much like those in an English farmyard. And we also found that here and all through Antsihànaka the rice is not transplanted, as in Imèrina, but after the ground has been trampled over by oxen the seed is sown broadcast, and the rice grows there until it is fit for cutting. After leaving these villages we began to mount a line of hills which forms the eastern boundary of the more level portion of the Ankay valley; and on reaching its summit we saw before us the vast green plain of Antsihànaka stretching away to the northward, level as a lake, with long lines of promontory jutting out into it from the north-west and south-east, and a few low rounded hills rising out of it like islands from a sea. In the far north-east the waters of the lake Alaotra gleamed in the sunshine. To the south and east of the plain we could see several large villages, but the chief town, Ambàtondrazàka, was hidden from view by an intervening line of hill. We crossed ridge after ridge and valley after valley, hoping each would prove the last. The path over one of these valleys, a mile and a half wide, was especially difficult; a narrow winding track amongst swamp, prickly bamboo, enormous papyrus and rushes, with here and there deep running streams, whose only bridge was a slippery round pole partly under water; so that we afterwards spoke of it as “the great dismal swamp!” But we met with others equally bad, if not worse, on our subsequent journeys round the plain, and the passage seemed not nearly so formidable on our return.

I was struck here, as well as in many other parts of the district, by the remarkable and varied fragrance of the wild plants growing among the grass. The scents appeared to me as equally a convincing proof as the sights and sounds that one was really in a tropical country. And here, as we have been travelling for several days over country that is chiefly bare moor (except the narrow belt of forest at the “Stone Gateway”), I may appropriately say something about the grasses of Madagascar, which must attract the attention of every observant traveller. They are of great variety and beauty, and prominent among them are different species of Véro. Of these the one called simply Véro rises to a height of eight or ten feet, and has a head of flowers somewhat like oats, but much longer. This tall grass presents a varied appearance at different stages of its growth. When in full flower, the heads contain a large number of oat-like seeds with long awns, but later on the seeds fall off, and at the head of each little branchlet there appears a minute tuft of feathery plumes, like little stars, giving the grass quite a different aspect from its first one. Another species, called Vérontsànjy, has a still more beautiful floral crown, and is as tall as the first-named one, but not so common. These two grasses, when seen in a mass, give a warm brown tint to the spots where they grow. In some parts, however, a much shorter grass, of a pale buff colour, is the prevailing growth. In other places, another very tall grass called Famòa flourishes; this is a light graceful grass, with fine branchlets from its head, and the seeds showing prominently; and the whole is of a delicate pea-green colour. Then there are other grasses, which are richly marked with shades of dark red or purple, displaying masses of these tints when seen from a little distance. The shorter grasses are not less beautiful than the taller species just mentioned; but without coloured drawings it is impossible to give any adequate idea of their charm and variety.

There is one thing especially which strikes a European newly come into the country with regard to the Madagascar grasses, and that is, the height to which they grow, if left undisturbed. In sheltered valleys and other places not reached by the fires which sweep over the downs in the dry season, the grass grows considerably above one’s head, so that I have felt how soon one might be lost in certain conditions. After the year of rebellion against French rule in 1896, I found the véro and other grasses grown as high as I was when sitting in my palanquin—about eight feet above the ground. For several months large tracts of country had been desolate and left uncultivated, and were returning to a state of nature. And in many places, at every few yards, we disturbed coveys of partridges or quails or other wild birds, which had greatly multiplied in the depopulated country.

Soon after four o’clock we mounted the last low ridge, and Ambàtondrazàka lay before us, about a mile and a half distant. The town, which consisted of about four hundred houses, is situated on a low peninsula projecting from the hills on the southern side of the plain. It had a pleasant, civilised appearance after the wretched huts we had seen for the last two or three days. A broad road running down from the hill seemed to divide the town into two pretty nearly equal parts. West of this road a large substantial chapel showed out conspicuously, and on the opposite side was the square palisaded enclosure called the ròva, filled with the houses of the Hova officers and soldiers who formed the garrison of the place. At the north-east corner of the enclosure the làpa, or government house, a two-storeyed building surrounded by verandahs, stood out prominent above the rows of smaller houses. We soon established ourselves inside the chapel, which was well built of clay walls with brick gables, ninety feet long by thirty-six broad, with good doors and windows, all well finished. The walls were smoothly plastered and whitened, and the floor was covered with fine mats, all sewn together.

Sending in our letters of introduction to the Governor, we were in a few minutes invited to go over and see him. Passing through the double lines of palisading and the rows of Hova houses, we came to the làpa, inside an inner enclosure of its own. Entering the large room on the ground floor, we found the Governor waiting to receive us. His chief officers and the civil authorities were seated round two sides of the room, and a number of the lower class squatted on the floor on the third side, while on the fourth side three chairs were placed for us. As soon as we were seated, the Governor, a tall elderly man, receiving us most cordially, addressed us with a formal speech, after the custom of the Malagasy officials to anyone who came from the capital; and as this may serve as an example of the way in which we were received in all the principal places, I will give it pretty fully; it was in the following form:—“Since you, gentlemen, have come from the capital, we ask of you, How is Queen Rànavàlona, sovereign of the land? How is Rainibaiàrivòny, Prime Minister, protector of the kingdom? How is our father, Rainingòry (the oldest officer in the army, nearly a hundred years old)? How is Rainimàharàvo, Chief Secretary of State, chief of the officers of the palace? How is Rabé (son of the preceding)? How is the kingdom of Ambòhimànga and Antanànarìvo (the ancient and modern capitals)? How are ‘the-under-the-heaven’ (the people, the subjects)? How are you, our friends? And how is your fatigue after your journey?” etc. To these inquiries I, as interpreter to the expedition, gravely replied seriatim, saying that her Majesty was well, that the Prime Minister was well, etc., etc., and then inquired how the Governor and his officers, and the people of the town and neighbourhood were. We then had more general and less formal conversation, in which I explained the objects of our visit to Antsihànaka, and our proposed route round the district.

The Governor then courteously led us by the hand back to the chapel, where he joined us in our dinner; and as soon as that was finished asked us to come outside. Here we found a quantity of provisions brought for us and our bearers; baskets of rice, geese, fowls, yams, and a large fat pig (a most unwilling offering he was, and loudly protested against the whole business). In a formal speech, as soon as silence could be obtained, the Governor offered these things to us, saying that the provisions presented were not theirs, but the Queen’s, the Prime Minister’s, etc., etc., while they only took charge of it all (a polite and loyal fiction, by the way, meaning nothing). We found a comfortable (if somewhat airy) bedroom in the spacious chapel, which formed a pleasant contrast to the confinement of our little tent of eleven feet square.

The next day, Thursday, was market day, and a number of people from the country were collected together buying and selling on an open piece of rising ground to the south of the town. The morning we devoted to inspecting the place, ascertaining the number of houses, and taking bearings, observations and photographs from a point half-a-mile to the east of the market. Our proceedings caused intense interest, as the camera, theodolite, etc., were carried past; business came to a standstill for some time, and a glance at the crowd through the field-glass showed rows of dark faces all turned in our direction, intently watching our mysterious proceedings. We afterwards walked through the market, hoping to find some articles of food or manufacture new to us; but there was not much that differed from what may be seen every day in Imèrina. In fruit I fancied I had found something new—viz. what appeared like a kind of small banana with black skin; but more minute inspection showed that the supposed fruits were small fish from the lake, smoke-dried, strung on a strong reed. Some large wooden spoons with tin ornaments on the handles reminded me of those made by the Bétsiléo. Bananas, very large and fine, seemed the most plentiful fruit; sugar-cane grows to a great size, ten to twelve feet high; and from what we saw all round Antsihànaka it appeared a most fertile district, with rich alluvial soil; were the whole marsh drained and brought under cultivation, as the marshy plain to the west and north-west of the capital has been, it would support a population many times greater than that which inhabits Imèrina. All round Ambàtondrazàka many hundred acres of the level are occupied by rice-fields, and it is the same in the neighbourhood of all the villages bordering the plain; although a large proportion of the area is still covered with marsh, reeds, rushes and papyrus. From the rising ground we could count numerous herds of fine cattle, generally from seventy to eighty in each herd, and wherever we went we found cattle in great abundance feeding on the rich pasture. Large numbers of these cattle belonged to rich people in Imèrina. One noble was said to have nearly ten thousand; others had five thousand; many people had a thousand, and the majority of the Sihànaka had at least a hundred each.

After our usual employments of school examination, conversation with the pastor and others, and renewed presents of food, on Friday morning we set off on our circuit round the plain to visit as many of the congregations, and see as much of the country and the position of the Sihànaka villages, as was possible in six days, as our time was limited to that period. Proceeding first westward, and skirting the edge of the level ground, we passed for some distance through swamp, with dense thickets of hèrana and zozòro, the first being, as already seen in Imèrina, a strong sedge extensively used for roofing, and the other, a species of papyrus, employed for a variety of purposes. This latter grows here to a great size, some ten or twelve feet high, with a triangular and exceedingly tough stem, about two and a half inches each way, nearly double the size it attains in the cooler Imèrina province.

We had to cross numerous little streams by rickety bridges of plank. From the level of the rice-fields the plain stretched northward like an immense green lake; the rotundity of the earth was as clearly seen from the perfect level as it is from the surface of the sea, for the distant low hills appeared like detached islands with nothing to connect their bases. Our course lay west by north-west, cutting diagonally across several of those promontories formed by the parallel lines of hills which run down each side of the Ankay valley. Every village of the Sihànaka has near its entrance a group of two or three tall straight trunks of trees fixed in the ground, varying from thirty to fifty feet in height; the top of these has the appearance of an enormous pair of horns, for the fork of a tree is fixed to the pole, and each branch is sharpened to a fine point. Besides these, there are generally half-a-dozen lower poles, on which are fixed a number of the skulls and horns of bullocks killed at the funeral of the people of whom these poles are the memorial. One thing struck us as curious: several of the higher poles had small tin trunks, generally painted oak colour, impaled on one point of the fork; and in several instances baskets and mats were also placed on a railing of wood close to the poles supporting the bullock horns. These various articles were the property of the deceased, and put near his grave with the hope of their being of some benefit to his spirit; or perhaps from the idea, common to most of the Malagasy tribes, of there being pollution attached to anything connected with the dead. In several cases, on the very highest point of the lofty poles, there was a small tin fixed, having a strong resemblance to those we import containing jam or preserved provisions.[17] As among many Eastern peoples, so in Madagascar, the horn is a symbol of power and protection; the native army was termed tàndroky ny fanjakàna—“horns of the kingdom.”

Some of the cattle we saw were magnificent animals, and it is not strange that the bull was used frequently in public speeches, as an emblem of strength, as it is the largest of all the animals known to the Malagasy. It frequently occurs in this sense in the formulæ and the songs connected with the circumcision ceremonial; for the observance of this native custom was a time of very great importance in the old native regime. Bull-fighting was a favourite amusement with the Malagasy sovereigns; and in digging the foundations for a new gateway to the palace yard at Antanànarìvo, the remains of a bull were discovered, wrapped up in a red silk làmba, the same style of burial as that employed for rich people. This was the honour paid to a famous fighting bull belonging to Queen Rànavàlona I. It seems pretty certain that anciently the killing of an ox was regarded as a semi-religious or sacrificial observance, and only the chief of a tribe was allowed to do this, as priest of his people. Robert Drury, an English lad who, with others, was wrecked on the south-west coast of Madagascar in 1702, and remained in the country as a slave for fifteen years, gives many particulars about this custom of the southern Sàkalàva people.

An old Malagasy saying thus describes the various uses of the different portions of an ox when killed: “The ox is the chief of the animals kept by the people, and they are very beautiful in this country. Our forefathers here knew well how it should be used, and they said thus, when they invoked a blessing (at the circumcision): The ox’s horns go to the spoon-maker; its molar teeth to the mat-maker (for smoothing out the zozòro peel); its ears are for making medicine for nettle-rash; its hump for making ointment; its rump to the sovereign; its feet to the oil-maker; its spleen to the old man; its liver to the old woman; its lungs to the son-in-law; its intestines to those who brought the ropes; its neck to him who brought the axe; its haunch to the crier; its tail to the weaver; its suet to the soap-maker; its skin to the drummer; its head to the speech-maker; its eyes to be made into beads (used in the divination), and its hoofs to the gun-maker.”

Our next morning’s ride brought us to Ambòhidèhilàhy, a large village of a hundred and twenty or a hundred and thirty houses, occupying the northern end of one of the promontories.

For the first time since we had left Ambòhimànga we had a meal in an ordinary house, and could notice the arrangement of a Sihànaka dwelling. I immediately observed that instead of there being one post at each end and at the centre of the house to support the ridge, as in the Imèrina houses, this had three at each gable, just as the Bétsimisàraka have; another confirmation, by the way, of my belief, that the Sihànaka are connected with the coast tribes, and have come up from the sea and settled on the margin of the fertile plain. Instead of the one door and window on the west side, as in the Hova houses, the Sihànaka make two doors on that side, with high thresholds, dividing it into three equal parts, and a low door on the eastern side, coming where the fixed bedstead is placed in Imèrina. Here the bedstead was at the south-east instead of the north-east corner; and the hearth, with its framework above for supporting property of various kinds, at the south-east instead of the mid-west side of the house.

After dinner we set off over level ground for Manàkambahìny, a village nearly south from us, which we could see on a low hill forming the extremity of the high ridge bounding the Mangòro valley to the west. We found that the small rivers between the parallel ranges of hills spread out into many shallow streams over a wide surface, forming a swamp with luxuriant rushes and vegetation. The wild birds seemed plentiful here. In several places was a kind of snare for taking them on the wing, consisting of several stout bamboos fixed in the ground a few feet apart, with cords stretched between them, and loops of string suspended from these cords. We were only able to stay a short time at the village, and then pushed on, crossing the level ground at the southern extremity of the Antsihànaka plain and coming at sunset to Ambòdinònoka, a good-sized village on its western edge. Here we had reached our farthest south in our journey round the province.

We have just seen the interior of a Sihànaka house, and we ought to have noticed the fine and strong mats with which they are furnished. From the immense extent of marsh, the material for making these is very abundant, and all women can make them; so no Sihànaka buys a mat, for they think that a disgrace. Of the zozòro outer peel, or skin, the very long mats called the Queen’s are made, which are from eighteen feet to twenty-four feet long. The houses of many people here are clean and neat from the abundance of such mats. The largest kind of zozòro, called tèry, is as strong as wood, and the firm triangular stems are used for the walls of the houses.

We were off early on Saturday morning, for, as we wished to get to the second town in size, Ampàrafàravòla, for Sunday, we had a long day’s journey northward of nine or ten hours before us. We were now skirting the western edge of the great level, now and then crossing patches of swamp, and then following the windings of a small river, which we had at last to cross by canoes. The whole country appeared to abound with wild birds of different kinds—herons, black and white storks, wild geese, wild ducks, partridges and many others. The fen country of the eastern midland counties of England, before the great drainage works were carried out and the waters led off to the sea, must have been very much like this Antsihànaka plain, which is certainly a paradise for sportsmen. There are said to be no fewer than thirty-four species of aquatic birds found on the Alaotra lake and in the surrounding marshy country. In the little museum at the L.M.S. College at Antanànarìvo we have, among other Malagasy birds’ eggs, a number from Antsihànaka, chiefly of water-fowl; most of these are white, showing probably that they are well protected and so have no need of imitative colouring.

Of these numerous ducks and geese, perhaps the whistling teal is the most common, not only in this province, but also in other marshy regions. In the western part of Imèrina the Tsirìry, as it is called, may be seen in flocks of five hundred together, so that a certain district probably gets its name of “Bé (many) tsiriry” from their numbers. At evening this bird and a tree duck (Tahìa) settle down in such numbers along the shore of the lake that one cannot walk by the waterside, for the ground is black with them. The tsiriry builds its nest on hillocks among the grass, and the young birds are taken to the water as soon as hatched. Another bird, the humped duck (Aròsy), lays its eggs in the crevices of rocks. Many of the native names of these wild fowl are imitative of their screaming cry; others are descriptive, as “white-wings,” “handsome-bird,” “white-eyes,” “many-shields,” etc. Besides the above-mentioned birds, there are also coots, water-hens, herons, ibises, grebes, snipes and curlews in the lake and the marshes. Of the white-backed duck (Tafiòtra) the natives say that the female bird experiences some difficulty in the laying of her eggs, which are very large in proportion to the size of her body; this is said to make her faint and become unconscious, so that she may be taken off her nest with the hand. On account this of peculiarity, the duck is fàdy, or tabooed, by the native women, who think that they would experience a similar difficulty in child-birth were they to eat the bird.

From the abundance of water-birds in this province, the keeping of ducks and geese is an important occupation of the Sihànaka. Geese are greatly esteemed, and alive or killed are always presented as a mark of respect to strangers. On account of their abundance, goose quills for pens, as well as chillies and fine long mats, formed the tribute formerly paid by the people to the queen at Antanànarìvo. Guinea-fowls are also plentiful and are found in flocks of from twenty to thirty together, but chiefly in unfrequented places.

After about two hours and a half’s journey we arrived at Ambòhitròmby, a large village of nearly a hundred houses, situated on a rounded hill which rose like an island from the plain. We were formally received by an old man in a red làmba, the chief of the village, in the presence of a large number of people, and the accustomed speech-making had to be gone through. We then went into the chapel, a long, narrow and low rush building, where the scholars and most of the women were assembled. On going out of the chapel we were asked to meet the chief people again to receive beef, rice, etc. This was done with a formality and respect exceeding that shown on any previous occasion. A mat was spread on an open space, on this three chairs were placed for us, and in front of this, on another mat, were arranged the provisions. Speech-making, compliments and replies then followed as usual.

After tiffin, and taking some compass observations, we left Ambòhitròmby soon after twelve o’clock, keeping still along the western shore of the plain, and several times crossing bays which run westward between the hills. Here we had much floundering about in the bog, and crossing of cranky wooden bridges of the primitive single round-pole construction. We passed Mòraràno and Moraféno, good-sized villages, but were unable to stop at either place, as they were both a little way out of the direct road, and we were pressed for time. The population appeared considerable about this part of the plain, for there were many other villages at no great distance, and a very large extent of its margin was cultivated, the stacks of rice dotting over the level surface for two or three miles to the eastward, and for a long way north and south. After three or four hours’ walking and riding we turned to the north-east, crossing a great bay formed by one of the long promontories which stretch into the level from the north-west as well as from the south-east shores of the plain. These have evidently in an earlier (geological) period formed continuous lines of hills, for they do not run in the same direction as the main valley or depression of the country, but cut it at an angle of about forty-five degrees—that is to say, while the general direction of the Antsihànaka valley is north-north-east and south-south-west, the lines of hills on either side have a bearing of north-north-west and south-south-east. This is seen very distinctly in the map of the district made on my return home: for many of the ridges seem to be broken off more or less abruptly by the level ground, and then to be continued on the other side of the plain. It seemed impossible to avoid the conclusion that by some great convulsion in long-past geologic ages a vast rent and depression had been made across the lines of hills in a diagonal direction; while the water-worn and wasted remains of some few of these towards the south, forming a line of low detached hills, suggested that probably the action of water, either as an arm of the sea running up the Ankay valley, or a great river, had completed what was commenced by more violent agencies. The unmistakable evidence of former volcanic action, in the presence of extinct craters and lava streams to the west, north and north-east of the plain, seems to show what was the agency which caused this great depression of the surface.

Half-an-hour brought us to the end of the promontory, which was like an enormous dyke or sea-wall, one face having a steep slope, and the other a long gentle rise. It was a pleasant and smooth level road along the top of this great natural embankment to the north-west. From it we had a delightful view, for the great flat surface of the plain looked like an immense green lake, from which the distant eastern line of hills seemed to rise like shores out of a green expanse of water. The high mountains beyond these were lit up by afternoon sunlight, and the western side or a still larger and higher promontory to the east of us, broken up by lateral buttresses, produced charming effects of light and shadow, and variety of colour. At the head of the bay formed by these two long points we could see the high rounded hill which rises above Ampàrafàravòla, and after a time the little town itself began to show above the plain.

At a little before five o’clock we came to a hollow at the end of the promontory, with a long piece of water dividing it from a steep abrupt hill, on which the large village of Ambòhipèno is situated. This place had a clay wall surrounding it, and contained about ninety houses. The “road” to it is the water just mentioned, about four feet wide, where the papyrus had been cut away; this being past, the path was up a steep clay slope. As we got near the village, we could see a number of people assembled to meet us, and on arriving at the top had a most pleasing reception. As we cleared the water and began to ascend, the singers struck up a hymn; they were all seated on one side of the road, the school-children on the other, while a little farther on were a crowd of people headed by the elderly men of the place. One of these, the judge of the district, a pleasant old man, then received us with the usual speeches, to which I had of course to reply. After a few minutes’ delay, and promising to come and preach to them on the following afternoon, we pushed on, for it was near sunset, and we had still three or four miles to traverse before reaching our destination.

It was about an hour after sundown before we reached Ampàrafàravòla, but a bright moon near the full prevented any difficulty in travelling. The town itself was almost entirely Hova, and consisted of about ninety houses in a square stockade of palisading, a double line of which ran all around it; but there were as many more Sihànaka houses within half-a-mile of the ròva, and two or three small villages at no great distance. On the west side of the town was a large, well-built, clay chapel, not then finished. Our first look at it, without any doors or windows, made us doubtful whether we could use it as a lodging, especially as the evening breeze blew sharply through the numerous openings; however, as we found there were temporary doors and shutters of zozòro, which filled them up to some extent, we decided that we had better stay in it. A few minutes after our arrival, the lieutenant-governor of the district and his attendants came out of the ròva to meet us; and then, of course, came loyal inquiries and polite speeches and, after a little time, beef, rice and poultry, etc. We were glad at last to get some tea, but we found the chapel very windy and letting in far too many mosquitoes to be pleasant, so we pitched the tent at the far end of the building as a sleeping apartment, and by dexterous management Mr Pillans and I stole a march on our bloodthirsty little tormentors, and managed to get a good night’s rest; while the doctor secured the same under the protection of his mosquito net.

On Sunday morning the people assembled early (rather too early for us) outside the chapel; and as soon as we had breakfasted, stowed away our packages, beds, etc., at the farther end, and covered them over with our tent to make things tidy, we let the people in. Mr Pillans’ gorgeous rug again did duty as covering for the rough little table which served as a reading-desk, while the doctor’s photographic chemical box made it a convenient height. The chapel was soon well filled with people, about four hundred and fifty in number; they came in following the governor and his officers, who took their seats first. Then came the commander’s wife, a very stout, pleasant-looking lady, who, with two or three others, were dressed in European style, as also were the chief men of the congregation. The ladies, however, did not patronise chairs, but had cushions laid on the floor. About half the congregation seemed to be Sihànaka, the rest were Hovas. As soon as service was over, the singers begged that I would teach them a new tune; so, as at other places, the large paper copy of one, which was then new and very popular at the capital, was brought out, and we practised it until we had to ask them to let our lunch be got ready. They then removed into the schoolhouse and sang away until it was almost time for the afternoon service; and then again in the evening until late at night. They also learned another new tune and hymn; and not only on Sunday night, but early next morning, they were still at these two tunes, and the last thing heard as we left the place was, “There is a happy land,” etc., over and over again.

In the afternoon Mr Pillans and I set off to preach to the people at Ambòhipèno, who had received us so pleasantly on the preceding evening. We wanted to give our own men a perfect rest, and so got some Sihànaka bearers. They jolted us not a little; carrying logs of timber was much more in their line than carrying English missionaries. However, we got there quickly and found the little chapel filled with people waiting for us. On our way to and fro we noticed a peculiar appearance in the grass, as if small handfuls of it were tied together in a bundle, while still growing. On examining a tuft of this, we found the unusual appearance was caused by a small mass of fibres growing around, and the long awns intertwining, involving the neighbouring grasses in their clasp; the end of each is armed with a sharp and barbed point, fine and strong enough to pierce the skin. This grass (Andropogon contortus) the natives call Léfon-dàmbo (“wild-hog’s spear”). In walking among this grass the awns cling to one’s trousers by hundreds, and gradually make their way through to the skin, causing a pricking like so many pins. Almost as annoying, although not so painful, is a plant called Anantsinàhy, which is found all over the central province, and of which the small dry seeds, called Tsipòlotra, are furnished with fine prickles, which make the seeds stick to your clothes by scores, as you pass through any piece of waste ground.

On getting back to Ampàrafàravòla, we found that the Governor wished us to dine with him and his officers in a small house which then served as the làpa. In the courtyard was a little shed, much out of repair, in which was a small cannon mounted on a very large carriage, one of those made by M. Laborde for the old queen. At some of the places we subsequently visited, after the usual loyal inquiries for the queen, great officers, and for the governor and lieutenant-governor of the Sihànaka, inquiry was also made as to the welfare of this little two-pounder gun! We might have replied, but did not, that a cleaning now and then, and a little more thatch on the roof of its shed, would probably tend to prolong its existence and conduce to its general well-being. Our dinner was served in thoroughly native style, being cooked in the same place where we ate it, and with about a score of people helping to serve us guests, three in number. They gave us rice and some excellently cooked beef and turkey, and milk to drink. The chief cook would not allow us to make any permanent impression on the heaped-up piles of rice on our plates, for every few minutes they were replenished by fresh supplies of rice and gravy, so we were obliged at last to relinquish the unequal contest. Before dinner they came to ask us if the band should play during the entertainment (as is customary when the great people in Imèrina give feasts); but as I felt doubtful as to the character of the tunes that the bandmaster might have available for the occasion, I said that, being Sunday, it might be well to omit the compliment; but I very readily agreed to their suggestion that the singers should sing a hymn tune instead, which they did outside the house. After doing justice to the fare, we returned to our chapel lodgings, greatly pleased with much we had seen during the day.