CHAPTER V.

Of the character of the buildings, the arrangements and mode of life in the settlements of the Khartoomers, I had been able from hearsay to form a very imperfect idea. My curiosity was therefore very considerably awakened as our caravan approached the Seriba of Ghattas. Half a league from the place we came to a halt in order to give the customary warning by firing a salute, and without farther delay started afresh. Mounted on a donkey, and surrounded by my attendants, I went at the head of the cortége. All round the settlement for some distance the land is entirely cultivated, and the view as we proceeded was only broken by large trees dotted here and there, which in their summer verdure stood out in charming contrast to the cheerless grey of the desert steppe. Soon rising from the plain appeared the tops of the conical huts embracing nearly the whole horizon. I looked in vain for either fortifications, walls, bastions, or watch-towers, with which I had imagined that a Khartoomer’s Seriba must be provided. In fact, there was hardly anything to distinguish it from any of the villages of the Dinka which are scattered over the cultivated flats.

A motley crowd, relieved by many a bright bit of colour, presented itself and formed a lively spectacle such as was scarcely to be expected to break in upon the monotony of an African landscape. We were received with a rattling salute from a number of rusty rifles, and there was every disposition to do the honours of our arrival in a becoming manner. Elegantly attired in an Oriental costume, Ghattas’s agent approached with the gestures of welcome, and proceeded to conduct me to the hut which for some weeks already had been prepared for my reception. For the first time I now observed that the area in the centre of the huts was surrounded by a lofty square palisade; through the narrow gateway of this, with lowered banners and amidst the sound of gongs and kettle-drums, our cavalcade passed on.

With this chief Seriba are associated five smaller settlements in the adjoining Bongo country, and four more in remoter spots. It lies on the border-lines of the three races, the Dinka, the Dyoor, and the Bongo. From an insignificant beginning it had, in the course of thirteen years, increased to its present importance. A number of Gellahba, Nubian, and other merchants, had taken up their abode on large estates within its precincts; and here it was that they completed their purchases of slaves in order to carry them on to Darfur and Kordofan. The garrison was composed almost exclusively of natives of Dongola; there were, however, a few Sheigeah and men of Kordofan among them, and these, including the numerous employés of Ghattas, made the resident armed force not much under 250 men. To these should be added some hundreds of slaves reserved for the market, or divided as part of their pay amongst the soldiers, and several hundreds more, male and female, who are in actual service. The aggregate population therefore of this establishment almost equals that of a small town, and amounts to at least 1000 souls.

For two miles round the Seriba the land is partitioned into fields. Enclosed by dense bush forests, of which the trees rarely exceed forty feet in height, this wide expanse is industriously tilled by the natives who have settled in the vicinity, and furnishes the greater part of the annual supply of sorghum necessary for the garrison. Numerous little villages belonging to the three adjoining people are scattered all about, the fertility of the soil, so much above the average of the district, causing the proximity to the settlement to be held in high estimation. The surface-soil above the iron ore has a depth of three to four feet. The extreme productiveness of the luxuriant tropics is well exemplified in these fields, which for thirteen years have undergone continual tillage without once lying fallow and with no other manuring but what is afforded by the uprooted weeds. A like luxuriance is characteristic of the forests, which year after year, from the immediate vicinity, continue to supply the spreading colony with abundance of fuel.

In the rainy season the place is surrounded by pools, which disappear completely during the winter months; parts of the soil in and about the fields become for the time quite marshy, and at intervals large tracts of the lower steppes, for miles together, are little better than swamps. The Seriba is not elevated more than 100 feet above the mean level of the Gazelle, but in spite of everything the climate is far more salubrious and enjoyable than in many districts of the Egyptian Soudan. This may partly be accounted for by the fact that very few domestic animals are kept, so that the air is uninfected by their carcases, whilst the reverse is generally the case in the large market towns of the Soudan. Camels, as I have said, are never seen; horses and mules are only used as signs of special luxury on the part of the Seriba authorities; the ass alone manages to drag out a precarious existence in the unfavourable climate, and to defy the fate which has hitherto attended all efforts for its acclimatisation. Fevers indeed are common, though they rarely carry off new comers. Hitherto but few white men have come to make experience of the climate in this portion of Africa; and up to the time of my sojourn the visits of either Turks or Egyptians had been almost as rare.

The district between Ghattas’s six Seribas in the northern Bongo country and immediately under his authority, extends over an area of about 200 square miles, of which at least 45 miles are under cultivation. The total population, to judge by the number of huts and by the bearers stationed in different parts, can hardly amount to much less than 12,000. This domain, worth millions of pounds were it situate in Europe, might, I believe, at any time be bought from its owner for 20,000 dollars: and this I mention as a proof of how small is the profit actually yielded by these settlements, which have been started by so magnificent a spirit of enterprise. I could show by reliable statistics that in some years the returns from the ivory have fallen far short of the expenditure. The year of my arrival may perhaps be considered as an average season, and in this the ivory sent to Khartoom realised scarcely 10,000 Maria Theresa dollars. The expenses of keeping up two or three well-manned boats, so as to insure uninterrupted intercourse with Khartoom, are considerable, while from any traffic in slaves the owner of the Seriba has little to expect. In one way, however, slaves do occasionally contribute a secondary profit to the expeditions. In times when hostilities break out and the proper stores from Khartoom cannot be obtained, the agents are induced to part with whatever slaves they have to the Gellahba for a mere bagatelle; they exchange them for calico or anything else they can get, and make use of the proceeds to pay the soldiers.

When affairs are prospering, a month’s pay for a soldier is five Maria Theresa dollars. One of the great points with the agents is to spare the merchant any outlay of ready money: he therefore, as often as he can, pays the mercenaries in goods, charging them exorbitant prices for any articles obtained from his stores; on the other hand, he makes this up to them in a measure by allowing them a share in the plunder of slaves or of cattle; the soldiers in their turn can dispose of what booty they may get, all negotiations being generally conducted by the regular slave-dealers. It is very seldom that the men are wary enough to keep independent of the agent in their requirements, or are able, even in the course of many years, to lay by in Khartoom any considerable amount of money. The majority are pledged beforehand to continual service; nevertheless not unfrequently they contrive to escape and, without any intimation, join the company of some competitor, who (in the lawless condition of the country) quietly scorns all efforts to reclaim them. Such cases as these inevitably give rise to repeated contentions between the various Seribas. The annual cattle-plunder, moreover, does not nearly suffice either to attract or adequately to repay the hard services of the Nubian soldier, nor does it go far to remunerate the native bearers, who perform all the transport from the Niam-niam countries to the river. All matters of commerce even in these remote regions are ostensibly conducted in a legitimate mercantile way. For the opening of the ivory traffic with the Niam-niam, as well as for the purpose of buying supplies for the people during expeditions which often last six or seven months, huge bars of copper and beads of every description have to be provided. These are dear, on account of the commission which is paid in Alexandria. The bearers, it is true, are subject with the submission of serfs to the authorities at the Seriba; but as an encouragement to them in their work they can claim a stipulated proportion of the goods, and this in the course of the year constitutes no unimportant addition to the outlay.

Altogether the Upper Nile traffic was carried on at great pecuniary risk, and its prospects were far from favourable. As I saw it, it was dependent for any amount of success upon the plunder which was made alike upon cattle and upon men, and upon the levies of corn and provisions which were exacted from the natives. Without the aid of the Nubian soldiers the expeditions could not be secure. These soldiers only come to escape the rigorousness of the Egyptian Government in their own land; they participate in the profits, and yet without them the monopoly could not be maintained. The Government could avail nothing to protect a legal business; neither could any European enterprise hope, for many successive years, to be able to work a profitable trade.

The few Europeans who ever really opened transactions in these countries did indeed pay their people in hard cash, and refused to have anything to do either with the slave trade or cattle-stealing, limiting their operations exclusively to the purchase of ivory and to elephant-hunting in the districts adjacent to their settlements. Just as might be expected, however, they were soon compelled to withdraw from their undertaking—​either because, on the one hand, the stock of ivory in their immediate vicinity was exhausted, or, on the other, because they found that they could not compete with the native firms, who were backed by the illegal means I have mentioned. Since their withdrawal, no new speculator has attempted to follow in their steps; and as year by year the Khartoom trade loses its European representatives, it appears as though, in course of time, the export business will pass out of European hands. Nothing will prevent this, unless some important modifications should occur in the southern provinces of Egypt. Sanguine of success, Ismail Pasha has projected the formation of a railway to Khartoom; and, considering the general aspect of affairs as I have related them, this great undertaking deserves the unqualified support of all who do not despair of the ultimate victory of right.

A mere slave when at home, Ghattas’s plenipotentiary, Idrees, was here an important personage, invested with absolute power, and swaggered about like an autocrat. By birth a negro, he had not on that account less influence over the Nubians than any other official—​for it is not according to the law of Islam to allow national enmity to be antagonistic to personal rank. I was received with all the courtesy due to my credentials, and for the first few days found myself literally loaded with presents. Provisions of every sort were placed at my disposal, whilst my people had free board for a month in Idrees’s quarters. Two neatly-built huts of moderate size, within the palisade, were prepared for me, but these were not nearly sufficient to accommodate me with all my baggage. The actual Seriba, about 200 paces square, was so crammed with huts, that not a spot could be discovered where it was possible to erect a more spacious residence. Outside the enclosure, where the buildings were more scattered over the fields, I was not permitted to lodge. I was told how it had happened, and was likely to happen again, that the natives skulked about at night and murdered people in their sleep. This statement I was forced, whether I would or not, to accept, and temporarily, at all events, to content myself with my cramped abode, eighteen feet across.

The huts are built of bamboo and straw; the conical roof rests on a kind of basket-work of bamboo, which is daubed inside with clay, in a way that is imitated from the almost petrified erections of the white ants. The pagan negroes lavish far more care upon their huts than the Mohammedan inhabitants of the Soudan, who, although the bamboo grows so abundantly among them, do not succeed in giving their “tokkuls” nearly so much symmetry. Here they possess the art of erecting roofs which are perfectly water-tight, and which are so light that they do not require heavy posts to hold them together on the walls. The covering for the roof is formed, in the first place upon the ground, with handfuls of stalks laid side by side and knotted together. These are afterwards plaited into long strips, which are then laid one above the other, like the flounces of a lady’s dress—​a comparison which is further the more appropriate, because the structure of the frame-work is exactly like a hooped petticoat.

I would not allow the walls of the tokkul, in which I generally passed my time, to be cemented with clay, partly because I liked the airiness of the basket-work, and partly because light was necessary for my daily occupations. There seemed to me two other advantages—​first, on dry days, my goods would more rapidly recover the effect of the wet to which they had been exposed; and, secondly, I should be less plagued with rats than those who occupied the plastered huts. In stormy weather, it is true, I had to suffer a certain amount of discomfort. To increase my storage-room I contrived some shelves and stands out of bamboo-canes; I had also brought from Khartoom some deal planks, expressly for the manufacture of the tables which were necessary for my botanical pursuits. A traveller who is in possession of bamboos, cow-hide, bladder, and clay, will find himself not very inadequately supplied with representatives of nearly all the building materials of Europe.

My excursions about the neighbourhood soon began, and these, with the arrangement of my daily collections, occupied the greater part of my time. In unfailing good health, I passed the first few weeks in a transport of joy, literally enraptured by the unrivalled loveliness of nature. The early rains had commenced, and were clothing all the park-like scenery, meadows, trees, and shrubs, with the verdure of spring. Emulating the tulips and hyacinths of our own gardens, sprang up everywhere splendid bulbous plants; whilst amongst the fresh foliage gleamed blossoms of the gayest hue. The April rains are not continuous, but nevertheless, trees and underwood were all in bloom, and the grass was like a lawn for smoothness. In Tropical Africa, after long continuance of rain, the grass may be considered more as a defect than an ornament in the landscape: the obstructions which it interposes to the view of the traveller considerably mar his enjoyment of the scenery; but throughout the period of the early rains its growth is remarkably slow, and it takes some months to attain a height sufficient to conceal the numerous flowering weeds and bulbs which display their blossoms at the same season.

The territory of the Dinka includes nearly the whole low ground, extending right away to the Gazelle. It is a vast plain of dark alluvial clay, of which the uniformity is not broken by a single hill or mass of rock, any tracts of forest being of very limited extent. As they approach the districts of the Bongo and the Dyoor, the Dinka steppes lose much of that park-like aspect which they here present. Indeed, very marked is the contrast in the character of the scenery which appears on entering those districts; for to the very borders of the Dinka reaches that enormous table-land of ferruginous soil which, unbroken except by gentle undulations or by isolated mounds of gneiss, gradually ascends to the Equator. This plain appears to cover the greater part of the centre of the continent, even if it does not extend as far as Benguela and the shores of the Niger. From my own experience, I can certify that the general geological features of the soil, as exhibited as far south as the latitude of 4°, are identical with those which were conspicuous here, where the latitude was between 7° and 8° N.

At the end of a fortnight I made a trip to the south-east, the first of a series of excursions to Ghattas’s different Seribas, which lay four or five leagues apart. On this tour I learnt something of the river Tondy, on which is established the Seriba known as Addai. The river was now at its lowest level, and was flowing north-east in a tolerably rapid current, between precipitous banks fifteen feet in height. In depth it varied from four to seven feet, and it was about thirty feet in breadth; in the rainy season, however, for three miles, the adjacent steppes are covered with its floods, which are always very prolific in fish. Before the Tondy joins the Gazelle, as it does in the district of the Nueir, it spreads irregularly over the low-lying country and leaves its shores quite undefined. In this way it forms a number of swamps, all but inaccessible, to which the Dinka, whenever they are threatened by plundering excursions from the Seribas, lose no time in driving their herds.

Although the Tondy is nearly as long as the Dyoor, it is very inferior in its volume of water. Like several of the less important rivers of this region, it flows for a long distance without any appreciable increase either in size or speed. These streams intersect the country and cut it up into narrow sections, which are rarely designated on the maps.

The second of the Seribas which I visited was called Geer, and was just four leagues to the south of the chief settlement. It was surrounded by bamboo-jungles, and was situated in a prolific corn-valley, watered by a tributary of the Tondy. It contained about 800 huts, occupied by Bongo, who had settled there.

The road to Geer, nearly all the way, was over a firm, rocky soil, through bush forests, swarming with wart-hogs (Phacochærus). About three-quarters of a league on the way, stood a dense mass of lofty trees, not unlike an alder grove. It was traversed by rain-courses, and surrounded by low swampy steppes, which in the rainy season are entirely under water. The wood consisted mainly of tall uncariæ and eugeniæ, 80 feet in height, of which the long, straight stems were crowned by spreading foliage: it was the first bit of the primæval forests which fill up the valleys through which flow the rivers of the Niam-niam. I paid many visits to this interesting spot; by the people in the Seriba it was termed Genana, the Arabic word for a garden. In its grateful shade grew dense thickets of red-blossomed melastomaceæ, intermingled with giant aroideæ (Amorphophallus), and bowers of creepers. The character of the vegetation was in striking contrast to the other forests of the district, and for the first time reminded me of the splendour of our northern woods—​it was like an enclave of the luxuriant flora of West Africa, transported to this region of bushes and steppes.

On the adjacent plains herds of giraffes were very frequently seen. To bring down one of these giraffes was a matter of but little difficulty. They pace unconcernedly from bush to bush, taking their choice amidst the varieties of herbage, and I was surprised to find that it required half-a-dozen shots before a herd of nearly twenty could be started into flight; but, once off, there was no gaining upon them, and, like the fleetest of sailing-vessels, they disappeared on the horizon. I was on this day treated to the rare delicacy of a giraffe’s tongue; there was some trouble in finding a dish on which it could be served, and I suppose that the longest fish-platter would hardly suffice for the display of this dainty. I had formerly tasted the flesh in Gallabat, and as I had abundance of beef in the Seriba, the carcase was distributed between my bearers. Roast giraffe may be reckoned amongst the better class of game, and is not unlike veal.

Geer provides the whole neighbourhood with bamboos. The African species (Bambusa abyssinica) seems to possess a character superior to what ordinarily belongs elsewhere to that useful product of the tropics. It is common on the lower terraces of Abyssinia and in all the rocky parts of the Upper Nile district, where the climate is sufficiently moist; it is found generally on river banks, though but rarely on the open steppes.

The canes grow to a height of thirty or forty feet, and the stoutest specimens that came under my notice were between two and three inches in diameter. They are not so swollen at the joints as the Chinese and Indian sorts; but this is an advantage, since they are more easily split. Even after repeated boiling, the young shoots were never eatable.

For two nights and a day whilst I was in Geer, the natives were abandoning themselves to their wild orgies, which now for the first time I saw in their full unbridled swing. The festival was held to celebrate the sowing of the crops; and confident in the hope that the coming season would bring abundant rains, these light-hearted Bongo anticipated their harvest. For the preparation of their beer they encroached very lavishly on their present corn stores, quite indifferent to the fact that for the next two months they would be reduced to the necessity of grubbing after roots and devouring any chance bird or even any creeping thing that might come in their way. Incredible quantities of “legyee” were consumed, so as to raise the party to the degree of excitement necessary for so prolonged a revel. In honour of the occasion there was produced a large array of musical instruments, a detailed account of which shall be given hereafter, but the confusion of sound beggared the raging of all the elements and made me marvel as to what music might come to. They danced till their bodies reeked again with the oil of the butter tree. Had they been made of india-rubber, their movements could scarcely have been more elastic; indeed, their skins had all the appearance of gutta-percha. The whole scene was more like a fantoccini than any diversion of living beings.

By the end of April the vegetation was so far developed that I might fairly reckon on a larger botanical collection on a longer excursion. Accordingly, accompanied by my servants and a few bearers, I set out towards the west, designing to visit the Seribas belonging to Kurshook Ali and Agahd, and to explore the River Dyoor. I was everywhere received most hospitably, and thus had every encouragement to make similar trips amongst the various Seribas. As a rule I did not produce my letters of introduction to the agents until the second day, that I might prove whether my welcome was a mere official service, or was accorded freely and by good-will. I had never cause to complain: the agents, one and all, showed me the greatest attention, entertained me handsomely, and placed at my disposal all that I could desire. Their courtesy went so far that, although the country was perfectly safe, they insisted on providing me with a guard of soldiers. In addition to this, the local governors of the negro villages always escorted my little caravan from stage to stage. I found that the whole country was occupied, at intervals of five or six leagues, with settlements of the Khartoomers, in their palisaded Seribas. The inhabitants interchange their visits as freely as any gentlemen in Europe.

On the third day after my start all my bearers, who had contracted to serve me for a sum which would be represented by half-a-crown a day, deserted; they were afraid, perhaps not without cause, that their burdens of pickings and pullings would daily increase. This little incident, for which I was quite prepared, had its effect on the remainder of my journey. I for my part was perfectly agreeable to their desertion, for I could obtain gratis as many bearers as I required. Of course, I had nothing to pay the runaways, and was free from all charges to bearers for the future. In this I had no compunction, knowing that I had every right to claim the same assistance and courtesy that is accorded to any ordinary traveller amongst the Khartoomers’ Seribas, and to have my baggage conveyed from one place to another.

My people had glorious times in the Seribas. There was mutton without stint; and whole animals were slaughtered even for my dogs: to my hungry Khartoomers it was literally a land flowing with milk and honey. Reserved for me were all that they considered the greatest delicacies that Central Africa could produce, and in the way of fruit and vegetables I could not catalogue the variety that was served, from the sour Pishamin (Carpodinus acidus) to the horse-bean (Canavalia).

This excursion lasted from the 27th of April to the 13th of May. After leaving the chief Seriba we proceeded for about three leagues to the north-west, and arrived, first, at the Seriba owned by Abderahman Aboo Guroon. In 1860 this spot was visited by the Marquis Antinori, who, in spite of many privations, remained there throughout an entire rainy season. At that time a French hunter, Alexandra Vayssière, under the protection of the Dyoor chief, Alwal, with whose sons I made acquaintance, had founded a small settlement. Vayssière himself, to whose clever pen the Revue des Deux Mondes is indebted for some valuable articles on Central Africa, died the same year on the Gazelle River, falling a victim to a virulent fever. Aboo Guroon was formerly a servant of Petherick’s, and had faithfully accompanied that praiseworthy traveller in his earliest endeavours to penetrate the Bongo country. He had obtained his name, Aboo Guroon (father of horned-cattle), from his noted courage and love of enterprise, and he was renowned amongst the traders as the first traveller to the Niam-niam.

The governors of the Seribas and the leaders of the Nubian expeditions may be divided into two classes: of these the one are hypocritical cowards, always saying their prayers, and yet always tyrannical to their subordinates; the others are avowed robbers. Far preferable, beyond a doubt, are the latter; they treat those weaker than themselves with a certain amount of generosity, not to say chivalry; to this class belonged Aboo Guroon. Close to his Seriba we had to cross the Molmull stream, which was for a long period represented on maps as an arm of the Dyoor, but I have proved that it is a collateral stream, which rises in southern Bongoland. In the rainy season it is 70 feet wide, and is only passable by swimming, but it was now nothing more than a series of pools, the intervals of which were marked by patches of gneiss.

Ten leagues further west flows the Dyoor. Our route in that direction was in every way tiresome. For four leagues and a half we traversed a barren steppe, without being able to obtain so much as a draught of water, and the rough clods of clay were a continual impediment. We halted for the night in a small Seriba of Agahd’s, called Dyoor-Awet. It lies on the summit of the watershed between the Molmull and the Dyoor, and from the hill towards the west an extensive view of the latter river is obtained. Being still somewhat of a novice in Central African travelling, I resolved, in order to avoid the heat of the day, to take advantage of the moonlight nights for proceeding on our march. In the dark, however, my guides and bearers, inexperienced in their work, lost themselves in such a labyrinth of paths that we were obliged to halt in an open meadow and make inquiries on all sides for the proper route. At length we arrived at some little enclosures of Deemo, a Dyoor chief. The huts were built on the slope of a small eminence of hornblende, a formation that I never noticed elsewhere to the south of the Gazelle; it extended as far as the right bank of the Dyoor, which, now at its lowest condition, was flowing sluggishly towards the north through steppes about a league in width.

The sandy river-bed was bounded by clay banks, from 20 to 25 feet in height, the entire thickness of the alluvium of the valley. The breadth of the bed at this spot was rather more than 400 feet, but at this season the running water was reduced to 80 feet wide and 4 feet deep. I was told that a few days previously the water had been up to a man’s shoulder, and that the stream would not now fall any lower. Ten days later, on my return, I crossed the river about three-quarters of a league to the south, and although I found that the whole bed was covered, yet its depth was not above three or four feet. Heuglin had crossed the Dyoor at a spot about 20 miles north of where I was, and on the 8th of April 1863 he found the stream about 300 paces in width, with a depth varying from one foot to three.

Among the Bongo and Dyoor alike, the river goes by the name of “Gueddy,” whilst the Niam-niam, in whose territory lies the whole of its upper course, call it “Sway.” It is ascertained to be one of the more important tributaries of the system of the White Nile. I found its source in Mount Baginze, in the eastern portion of the Niam-niam country, in lat. 5° 35´ N., and in almost the same longitude as that in which it joins the Gazelle; its main course, omitting the smaller windings, extends over 350 miles.

As we were wading across its clear waters, my servant, Mohammed Ameen, was suddenly attacked by a sentimental fit of home-sickness. He has been mentioned before as distinguished by the nickname of “the swimmer,” and as a former Reis he was always more interested than anybody else in river-systems and hydrographical questions. Stopping midway in the channel, as though lost in contemplation, he suddenly apostrophised the waters: “Yonder lies Khartoom; yonder flows the Nile. Pass on, O stream, pass on in peace! and bear my greeting to the dear old Bahr-el-Nil!” An Egyptian would have been too stolid to be moved like this son of Nubia.

The bush-ranges on the opposite shore were enlivened by numerous herds of hartebeests and leucotis antelopes. I hurried on in advance of my caravan, hoping to enjoy a good chase, but my attempt only resulted in a circuitous ramble and in extreme fatigue. It was not until the middle of the day that I rejoined my people in a little village of the Dyoor, and by that time, inexperienced as I was, the heat, the running, and the fear of losing my way had conspired almost to deprive me of the use of my senses. The numberless herds that, without making a stand, continually scampered across my path, still further increased my bewilderment. I was far onwards on my way back when a flock of domestic goats, startled by the apparition of a stranger came running athwart my way. They were of a reddish colour, and, had they been in the midst of a wilderness, might easily be mistaken for the little bush antelope (A. madoqua), so common in these parts. I was just about to send a last despairing shot amongst the harmless creatures, but discovered my mistake betimes. When I afterwards related my adventure for the entertainment of my people, one of them told a similar anecdote of a previous traveller, who, however, had actually shot a goat, and when the enraged owner insisted upon compensation, could not be induced, even in the face of the corpus delicti, to acknowledge his error. The man who told this had been an eye-witness of the affair, and described in the liveliest manner the contest that had raged over the zoological character of the hapless goat.

Rather more than a league from the Dyoor, in an irregular valley sloping towards the river and surrounded by wooded hills, was situated, but newly built, the chief settlement of Kurshook Ali. Khalil, the aged governor, received me most kindly. After the entire destruction of the former establishment by fire, he had erected in its place quite a model Seriba. This is depicted in the background of the accompanying drawing. In front is a majestic khaya-tree, which in years to come will probably be the sole surviving relic in the landscape. Several of the most important types of vegetation are also represented: on the left are the large candelabra-euphorbia and borassus palms, and on the right appear the little gardenia trees, of which the fruit resembles the wild pear or the crab-apple; by the side of these are two deserted white ant-hills.

Some of my most pleasant reminiscences of African life are connected with this spot. Here it was that, two years later, after experiencing the calamity of a fire, I was hospitably received, and passed several months in hunting over the well-stocked environs. In no other Seriba did I ever see the same order and cleanliness. The store-houses and the governor’s dwelling stood alone on an open space within the palisade; around the exterior, at a considerable distance, were ranged the huts assigned to the soldiers and other dependants. The unhealthiness of having a crowd of wretched dwellings huddled together, the contingent danger of fire amongst so many straw huts, and the disadvantageous lack of space in case of an attack, all had their effect in inducing Khalil to make these innovations.

FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH NIAM-NIAM.

On my arrival I was surrounded by a bevy of real Niam-niam,[19] who had been conveyed hither by an expedition lately returned from their country. They stood and gaped at me and my belongings with far more curiosity than had been evinced by the stolid natives of the country. Whilst I was supposed to be listening to the performances of the resident Bongo on the guitar, it seemed as though these Niam-niam would never tire of examining my paraphernalia. My watch, breech-loader, revolver, my clothes, and even my lucifer matches had to be scrutinised separately. Nothing of equal wonder had crossed their experience; and what with my white skin and my appearance altogether, I looked to them like some being from another world.

Amongst the acquaintances that I made here I must not forget to mention a speculative slave-trader from Tunis, who was now making a second journey over Darfoor. He could speak a little French, and, to the astonishment of every one, he could read the names upon my maps. He was the most refined of his calibre that I had ever met, and to me was a sort of deus ex machinâ. Whenever I saw him I had always a vague feeling that he must be some distinguished explorator in disguise—​perhaps a Burton or a Rohlfs. Our complexions were alike, our education had been alike, and so in these distant regions we met like fellow-countrymen. In an unguarded moment I grasped his hand, drew him aside, and begged him privately to tell me who he was and where he came from. His loud laugh of surprise at my inquiry was quite enough, and in an instant completely dispelled any illusion on my part.

The fact of meeting a slave-trader from Tunis in this spot so completely remote corroborates the imputation of an unexpected extent of the slave trade in Africa. This polished Tunisian was, to say the least, in many respects superior to the adventurers who ordinarily come from Darfoor and Kordofan. Of them nothing can be said too bad. They pursue their revolting craft under every pretext; coming as fakis or priests, they make their iniquitous exchanges for that living ebony which consists of flesh and blood, and, altogether, they are as coarse, unprincipled, and villanous a set as imagination can conceive.

It is pleasant to turn from these incarnations of human depravity to the calm undesecrated quiet of the wilderness around. Two leagues to the west brought us to the Wow, a river of inferior magnitude, but which was very charming. Meandering between rocky slopes, overhung with a rich and luxuriant foliage, and shadowed at intervals by stately trees, after a few miles it joins the Dyoor. Its bed, at its full measure, is 150 feet wide; but when I saw it, on the 1st of May, it exhibited merely two little rills trickling merrily over a rough sandy bottom. In proportion to its size it seemed to retain in the dry season less water than the Dyoor. It rises in the heart of the Niam-niam country, where it is called the Nomatilla; as it passes through the Bongo it is termed the Harey; whilst just above its confluence with the Dyoor, to which it contributes about a third of its volume, it goes by the name of the Nyanahm. It divides the people of the Dyoor into the two tribes of the Gony and the Wow.

On the banks of this, stretched beneath a noble tree, of which the age far exceeded any tradition of the natives, I enjoyed a noonday lounge. My dogs were never weary of awakening the echoes of the forest, which would give repeated answers to their cries. I was constrained to move on by the people who had come out to welcome me from the neighbouring Seriba of Agahd, known simply as Wow, at a distance of a league and a half to the west. The possessions of Agahd’s company in this district are much scattered, and are interspersed amidst the territories belonging to other merchants. Their subordinate settlements extend far west into the lands of the Kredy, their expeditions reaching even to the western frontiers of the Niam-niam.

The further the advance towards the west from the Dyoor, the more rapid is the increase in the level of the country. The ascent indicates the progress from the basin of the Gazelle to the central highland. The Wow Seriba occupied the centre of a gentle valley sloping towards the west. The bottom of this valley, at the time of my visit, was traversed by a marshy strip of meadow, which, in the rainy season, forms a running brook that flows into the river. A steep descent of a hundred feet bounds the valley on the south-west. I was struck by the richness and diversity of the foliage—​a peculiarity in this part of Africa, where vegetation seems very much to run to wood, and develops itself in bushes and in trees.

Of the trees which adorn the hanging rocks I may mention a few which are remarkable on account of their fruit. The Göll of the Bongo bears pods which, in appearance and in flavour, resemble those of the St. John’s Bread, and on that account the Nubians, who use the skins as tan, call it the Caroob. Its wood, like palisander, is carved by the natives into pretty stools and benches. Then there was the Oncoba, from which are made the little round tobacco-boxes, known in the Arabian trade on the Red Sea; and there was the Strychnos edulis, of which the fruit is not unlike a pomegranate, containing an edible pulp inclosed in a brittle woody shell. Together with these grew the Ximenia, a shrub common to the tropics of both hemispheres. The blossoms of this emit a soft fragrance as of orange flowers, and it bears a round yellow fruit about the size of a cherry, which is about as sour as anything in nature. The flavour is like a citron, and the soft nut-like kernel is eaten with the juicy pulp. Several kinds of sycamore, apparently of the Egyptian species, bear edible figs, but they are poor and insipid. A beverage refreshing as lemonade is prepared from the great creeper carpodinus. This plant is well known in the Guinea trade for its produce of caoutchouc. Its globular fruit (the sour pishamin of the colonists) contains a large number of kernels embedded in a fibrous pulp; its sourness exceeds that of the citron. The sarcocephalus, the wild original of the species that is cultivated in Guinea, does not here grow larger than a peach; in shape and colour it may be compared to a strawberry, though in flavour it resembles an apple: eaten to excess it acts as an emetic. The white flowers of this Rubiacea smell like orange-blossoms. The pericarp of the cordyla contains a green honey-pulp, and that of the detarium a sweetish yellow powder. Many species of vitex bear an olive-like fruit with a sweet aromatic flavour; and spondias offer great tempting plums of a bright yellow, which, however, leave a harshness in the throat. The ripe berries of the widely diffused vangueria taste like gingerbread, and this peculiarity, in a certain sense, belongs to nearly all the edible fruits of Central Africa: whatever is not sour and astringent, like unripe gooseberries, is somewhat sweet and dry to the tongue. With the exception of the plantain (Musa sapientium), which has every claim to be considered a native of Equatorial Africa, all other fruits are either sour and grating on the palate, or they are sweet with an after sensation of dryness. The most perfect examples of each of these are the pishamin and the date; intermediate to them both is the tamarind.

On account of the numerous gnats and gadflies on the west of the Dyoor, cattle-breeding suddenly ceases, and even in the Seribas there are found only a few sheep and goats. On the other hand, wild buffaloes, after being entirely missing for a long way to the east of the river, now re-appear. We had not come across any since we entered the region of the Gazelle, and the first that we now saw were on the southern frontier of the Bongo territory. Only one kind of buffalo is known in this part of Africa, but the difference in the formation of their horns is so remarkable that cows and bulls appear quite like two distinct animals. In the bulls the roots of the horns meet at the top of the head, and cover the whole of the forehead, whilst in the cows they are separated by nearly the entire width of the brow. The habit of this animal is different from what is ordinarily found elsewhere; for in these regions buffalo-hunting is considered by no means a dangerous sport. After my recent experience on the White Nile I was surprised to find so many ready, without hesitation, to accompany me to the chase. For myself I had rather a dread of the animal, as my predecessor, Herr von Harnier, had fallen a victim to a wild buffalo, which had mutilated his body to such a degree that it could not be recognised.

On the morning after my arrival I had the luck to surprise a small herd in a swamp. They immediately took to flight, with the exception of two, a cow and her calf, which looked about, astonished, after their disturber. I and my companion fired simultaneously, and we should have secured the sucking calf, if the swamp had not been in our way.

In flavour, the best parts of the buffalo-meat almost rival that of a fattened ox: it is tougher and more stringy, but, in spite of everything, it is juicy and palatable. The flesh of the tame species of southern Europe is, on the contrary, worse than camel’s flesh, and may indeed be pronounced uneatable.

Gladly I should have extended my tour westward, to the Kosanga mountain, and as far as the Seribas of Zebehr, Bizelli, and some others. The agents were always courteous, and, unencumbered, I could easily have accomplished my desire; but my botanical collection had largely increased, and my supply of paper was exhausted, so that I was constrained to give up my project, and to return. The rapid development of vegetation, moreover, warned me that I ought to be back at my quarters in Ghattas’s Seriba before the beginning of the rains, so that for the whole of the season, after they had decidedly set in, I might concentrate my energies on the investigations which were the proper purpose of my journey. Accordingly, after exploring the immediate neighbourhood of Wow, I returned at once to Kurshook Ali’s Seriba, where I spent a few more days in some brief excursions.

Dense still were the woods around the settlement, although Khalil, in order to obtain arable land, was daily thinning them by fire. The small depth of soil in these parts, often barely a foot, is one of the causes of the instability of the dwellings which are run up on it, and which are also liable to destruction from worms above and from white ants below. When the inhabitants are compelled to rebuild, they prefer to settle on fresh territory—​they choose virgin soil, and hence it arises that not only the villages of the natives, but even whole settlements of the Nubians, are continually changing their sites. Every place bears the name of the native chief; when he dies, therefore, the former name falls into oblivion. In consequence of this, it becomes very difficult to fix on the maps names and localities, which can rarely be permanent beyond a period of at most ten years. The only enduring landmarks are afforded by the water-courses: ages pass on, and these change but little as they fulfil their function in the economy of nature.

The environs of Kurshook Ali’s Seriba abound in every variety of game. Genets, civets, zebra-ichneumons, warthogs (Phacochœrus), wild pigs, cats, lynxes, servals, caracals, and the large family of the antelopes, all find here their home.

In this neighbourhood I killed my first hartebeest and a leucotis antelope. The hartebeest (Antilope caama) is common throughout the greater part of the continent, and varies in its form, its colour, and the shape of its horns, according to sex, age, and adventitious circumstances. In zoological collections two specimens are rarely seen exactly like one another.[20] Called “karia” by the Bongo and “songoro” by the Niam-niam, the hartebeest is the most frequent of all the larger game. It is generally found in small herds, varying in number from five to ten, its haunts being chiefly uninhabited tracts of wilderness. In the cultivated districts it prefers the light bush forests in the vicinity of rivers, though it is never seen actually in the river valleys. It takes its midday rest by standing motionless against the trunks of trees; and by its similarity in hue to the background which it chooses, it often eludes all observation. Throughout the rainy season its colour is bright—​a sort of yellow-brown, with a belly nearly white; but in the winter it tones down to a dullish grey. With the exception of the leucotis, its flesh is the best eating of any game in the country.

The leucotis antelope[21] is the species that congregates in the largest number in any of the districts that have been hitherto explored. In the dry season they are often seen in the wadys in large herds, varying from 100 to 300 head; during the rains they resort to the more elevated forests. That is their pairing time, and they divide into smaller groups. These graceful animals have the same habit as the South African spring-bok; running at full speed, with outspanned legs, they often bound four and five feet high, and jump clean over one another. The female, which has no horns, in colour and size very much resembles the yalo (A. arundinacea), but it can be easily distinguished by the hair on the metatarsus being black, while in the yalo it is grey.

Throughout the whole of this neighbourhood are numerous plains of ferruginous swamp-ore; only in the rainy seasons, when the rainfall is at its height, are these covered at all with grass, which at its best, compared to the luxuriant vegetation around, is a meagre down, hardly equal to our poorest pasture lands. On this plateau the rains of March and April begin to fill the numerous clefts and chasms; the pools thus formed contain a variety of interesting water-plants, which disappear completely when the waters again subside. Whereever the red rock is exposed, its surface is adorned by the rosy blossoms of the dianthera, a species of capparis, which here supplies the place of our viscous catch-fly and cuckoo-flower. Nowhere in the exuberant tropics are we more vividly reminded of our own scenery than in such spots as these, where, on the edge of woody precipices and surrounded by the smiling green of the sward, gleam these gay patches of dianthera. The naked stone covered by a low detached overgrowth, in picturesque grouping, rivalled all that I had ever seen. The gardenia trees fill the air with the fragrance as of a bower of orange blossoms and jasmine.

The month of May here, as in Europe, is a month of flowers, amongst which the world of butterflies pass their ephemeral existence. As a rule, these lepidoptera were not larger nor more diversified in form and colour than the European, but, in their aggregate, they were full of beauty. The dews of night were not sufficient for their thirst, and in motley masses they assembled round every puddle to enjoy the precious moisture. By a skilful swing of the butterfly-net I could catch a hundred at a time. They continue to swarm in this way till the beginning of July. At times I saw them thronging all amongst the foliage, and giving to many a plant the appearance of being covered with the most variegated blossoms; the bare rock, though destitute of vegetation, became as charming as a blooming meadow. The quantities of butterflies in this district are very large in comparison to what are found in the northern regions of Africa at this season.

Two leagues to the south of the new Seriba was the site of the one which had been burnt. But few vestiges remained, for nature here soon effaces what fire may have spared. The only surviving evidence of its ever having been the resort of men was a thriving grove of plantains (Musa sapientum). The shoots had been introduced from the Niam-niam lands. In the meagre households of the Nubians, fruits and vegetables are hardly considered necessaries; indolence and distaste for work cause the gardens to be much neglected. By my own experience, I have found that all garden produce of the southern regions can be cultivated here at the outlay of very little attention. The plantain bears fruit within eighteen months of its first sprouting.

Copious is the river as it flows by the place, shaded by magnificent afzelia, filæa, and syzygium. The impenetrable jungles of bamboo, which extend on either side, are the abode of a large number of bear-baboons. It was in vain that for some hours I pursued one after another of these bellowing brutes: immediately they became aware of my approach, they were knowing enough to quit their exposed positions on the trees and conceal themselves amidst the waving grass. The jungle swarmed, too, with great warthogs (Phacochærus), which appear as ineradicable as the wild boars of Europe. The chase of these had small attraction for me, aware as I was of the extreme unsavouriness of their flesh.

THE RAPHIA VINIFERA.

On my way back to the Seriba I made a slight detour, in order to visit the village of the Dyoor chief Okale. This lies to the east, upon a small stream, the banks of which are shadowed by some splendid woods that display the glories of the Niam-niam wilderness. It was like an enclave of the south transported to the bushwoods of the north. I looked here that I might discover the palm-tree, which the Khartoomers call the Nakhl-el-Faraoon (or Pharaoh’s date-palm), and of which they had given a wonderful description that roused my curiosity. I soon satisfied myself that they really meant the Raphia vinifera, which grows far and wide throughout tropical Africa, although probably, in this direction, this may be its limit. A considerable number of the trees and plants characteristic of the Niam-niam lands occurred to me in my rambles, and amongst them the blippo (Gardenia malleifera), with the inky sap of which the Niam-niam and the Monbuttoo delight to dye themselves.

Whether we advanced through villages or hamlets, we always found the overseers in their full state. Their official costume was everywhere a long chintz shirt. From their sparkling eyes beamed forth the delight with which they regarded my appearance, doubtless to them singular enough. Most readily they admitted me to every corner of their households, whence I procured one curiosity after another, and what I could not carry away I copied into my sketch-book.

Although I could not manage, in the course of an excursion not occupying three weeks, to traverse the entire district of the Dyoor, I nevertheless very much increased my familiarity with their habits, of which I will conclude this chapter with a concise account.

Dyoor is a name assigned by the Dinka, and is synonymous with men of the woods, or wild men. This designation is a name of contempt, and is intended to imply the condition of poverty, in which, according to Dinka ideas, the Dyoor spend their existence. Of course, it refers to their giving their sole attention to agriculture, to their few goats and poultry, and to their disregard of property in cattle. They speak of themselves as Lwoh. They use the Shillook dialect unaltered except in a few expressions which they have adopted, and are anxious to claim a northern origin, specifying their progenitors as O-Shwolo, or Shillooks. The area of their territory is quite small, and their number cannot exceed 20,000 souls.

On the north they are bounded by the numerically large tribe of the Dembo and some smaller kindred clans. Eighty miles to the south of them, but separated by the entire width of the Bongo country, reside the Belanda, a tribe of which the customs are modified by their intercourse with the Bongo, but which still make use, with very minor differences, of the Shillook dialect. These Belanda are partly under the surveillance of the Niam-niam king Solongho, and partly tributary to the intruders from Khartoom.

The chequered map of Africa suggests to every reflective mind many considerations as to how any advance in civilisation can be possible. There is an utter want of wholesome intercourse between race and race. For any member of a tribe which speaks one dialect to cross the borders of a tribe that speaks another is to make a venture at the hazard of his life. Districts there are, otherwise prosperous in every way, which become over-populated, and from these there are emigrations, which entail a change of pursuits, so that cattle-breeders become agriculturists and agriculturists become hunters living on the chase; districts again there are which shelter the remnant of a people who are resisting oppression to the very verge of despair; and there are districts, moreover, which have been actually reduced to a condition of vassalage and servitude; but the case is here altogether without example of a district which, whatever be its other fluctuations, has ever submitted to a change of race or of tongue.

DYOOR DECORATIONS.

Former travellers, although they have found their way to the Dyoor without concerning themselves with the origin of the people, appear to have made the observation that their complexion is a shade lighter than that of the Dinka. For my part I am convinced that this is so; not that I should feel justified in insisting upon this token as showing a difference between Dinka and Shillooks. Probably, the colour of the skin of the Dyoor loses something of its darker hue from their living in the shadows of their woodlands; but this is a question which involves meteorological and geographical considerations which are beyond our grasp.

In spite of their intercourse for many years, and their partial dependence upon the Dinka, the Dyoor have not departed from the Shillook mode of decorating themselves. Just on the extreme borders a few may every now and then be found imitating the radial stripes upon the foreheads; but it is quite uncommon for either sex to tattoo themselves. Neither does their daily familiarity with the Nubians induce them to adopt a modest dress. They only wear round the back of their loins a short covering of leather, something like the skirts of an ordinary frock coat; a calfskin answers this purpose best, of which they make two tails to hang down behind. Anything like the decorations of the hair which have excited our wonder amongst the Shillook and the Dinka is here totally rejected, and the Dyoor, men and women alike, have their hair close cropped.

The favourite ornaments of the men very much resemble those of the Dinka, consisting of a collection of iron rings below the elbow and a huge ivory ring above the elbow. One decoration peculiar to themselves consists of some heavy circlets of molten brass, which are very elaborately engraved. Brass, as known amongst the people, is called “damara,” and is about thrice the value of copper; it had been introduced into their traffic long before the arrival of any Khartoomers, having been brought as an article of commerce by the Dembo, who, as neighbours of the Baggara, were led into business relations alike with Kordofan and Darfoor on the one hand, and with the northern negroes on the other. Our fine metals, one and all, were quite unknown amongst them.

Their women, too, in hardly any respect differ from the Dinka women; like them burdening the wrists and ankles with a cluster of rings. Very frequently one great iron ring is thrust through the nose, the hole to admit it being bored indifferently through the base, the bridge, or the nostrils. The rims of the ears also are pierced to carry an indefinite number of rings. These deformities are especially characteristic of the Bellanda, who sometimes attach to their nose a dozen rings at once.

GLASS BEADS.

One of the iron decorations which is most admired, and which is found far away right into the heart of Africa, I first saw here amongst the Dyoor; I mean the iron beads or perforated little cylinders of iron, strung together. These have some historical interest attached to them in connection with the development of trade in Africa, arising from the fact that they were earlier in use than glass beads, to which they must be compared. Glass beads, obviously, were only brought into the market after it had been proved that the natives would be willing to wear ornaments like in form but of a lighter material than the hard metal which they were wont to forge into shape piece by piece. The Japanese and other inhabitants of Eastern Asia are known to trick themselves out in steel beads, thus evidencing their long exclusion from all intercourse with Europe. In the Soudan these strings of beads were principally made at Wandala, and Barth has specially noticed them at Marghi. Every tribe which I visited in proceeding inland from the Gazelle I found to retain the preference for beads made of iron.

The derivation of the stock from a negro race of the nobler kind, and one which has a small development of jaw, such as the Shillook, may be fairly understood from the accompanying portrait. The sitting figure is a likeness which I took at my leisure of one of my bearers. I thought it would illustrate the graceful slimness of the limbs, which nevertheless are all in due proportion. It may serve, too, in a degree to exemplify the appropriateness of the expression “swamp-man,” which I have several times employed, and moreover may help to justify the comparison which has likened them to a bird.

In recent times they have lost some of their ancient habits. For instance, the practice of mutual spitting, which was long the ordinary mode of salutation, has fallen into desuetude. Throughout the entire period of my residence in Africa I was never a witness of it more than three times: and in all these cases the spitting betokened the most affectionate goodwill; it was a pledge of attachment, an oath of fidelity; it was to their mind the proper way of giving solemnity to a league of friendship.

The spot which the Dyoor inhabit is the inferior terrace of the ferruginous formation in the district. The consequence is that they are quite at home with all iron work. The Dinka, although they do not settle down close to them, because of the hostility of the Bongo, yet are glad to welcome the Dyoor, in order to avail themselves of their aid in getting at the iron, which would otherwise be unsecured. It might almost be said that every Dyoor is a smith by profession. The result of their toil, however, does not so much find its way to the underground stores of the Dinka as to the magazines of the Khartoom merchants.

SPEAR-HEADS AND SPADES.

The accustomed shape in which the raw material is used as a medium of exchange is in spear heads[22] or in spades. Throughout the whole district of the Upper Nile these answer all the purpose of our current coin. Although the superficial veins of iron ore, for hundreds of miles, do not differ much in their appearance, there are only certain localities which produce an ore that, under the primitive mode of smelting, yields a remunerative supply of genuine metal. One of these prolific veins is found in the proximity of Kurshook Ali’s Seriba. With a perseverance for which I could not have given them credit, the natives have dug out trenches some ten feet deep, from which they have obtained a material very like our roe-stone. Considerable quantities of red ochre are discovered, but they are not turned to any account, through ignorance of a proper way of manipulation.

Just before the commencement of seed-time, in March, the Dyoor make a general move away from their huts, partly for the purpose of dragging the rivers for fish, and partly to busy themselves with iron-smelting in the woods. In the shaded centre of a very wooded spot they construct their furnaces of common clay, making them in groups, sometimes as many as a dozen, according to the number of the party. Their wives and children accompany them, and carry all their movables. In the midst of the wilderness, otherwise so desolate, they form a singular picture. The stems of the trees gleam again with their lances and harpoons; on the branches hang the stout bows ready for the buffalo hunt; everywhere are seen the draw-nets, hand-nets, snares and creels, and other fishing-tackle. There is a mingled collection of household effects, consisting of gourd-shells, baskets, dried fish and crocodile, game, horns, and hides. On the ground lie piles of coals, of ore, of cinders, and of dross. Petherick, the first explorer of this Dyoor district, has given a very accurate account of their primitive method of smelting iron, so that I may be repeating in a degree what has been related before: many things, however, there are which appeared to me under a somewhat different aspect.

DYOOR SMELTING FURNACE.

The smelting-furnace is a cone, not more than four feet high, widening at the top into a great goblet shape. So little deviation was there in the form of any that I saw that all seemed to me to be erected on precisely the same model. One obstacle to the construction of larger furnaces is the extreme difficulty of preventing the mass of clay from cracking in the process of drying. The cup-shaped aperture at the top communicates by a very small throat with the cavity below, which is entirely filled with carbons. Into the upper receiver are thrown fragments of ore, of about a solid inch, till it is full. The hollow tunnel extends lower than the level of the ground; and the melted mass of iron, finding its way through the red-hot fuel, collects below in a pile of slag. At the base there are four openings: one of these is much larger than the others, and is used for the removal of the scoriæ; the other three are to admit the long tewel-irons, which reach to the middle of the bottom, and keep the apertures free for the admission of air. Without stoking, the openings would very soon become blocked up with slag. In reply to my inquiry I was told that bellows are never employed; it was said that too fierce a fire was injurious, and caused a loss of metal. A period of a day and a half, or about forty hours, is requisite to secure the product of one kindling. When the flames have penetrated right through the mass of ore until they rise above it, the burning is presumed to be satisfactory.

Amongst the Bongo the furnaces are different, being generally constructed in three compartments, and fitted with bellows. They also place layers of ore and fuel alternately.

The deposit of metal and fuel is heated a second time, and the heavy portion, which is detached in little leaflets and granules, is once more subjected to fire in crucibles of clay. The particles, red-hot, are beaten together by a great stone into one compact mass, and, by repeated hammering, are made to throw off their final dross. Nearly half of the true metal is scattered about during the progress of the smelting, and would be entirely lost if it were not secured by the natives. In regard to its homogeneousness and its malleability, the iron procured in this way is quite equal to the best forged iron of our country.

The Dyoor and the Bongo appear almost equally ignorant about charcoal-burning. They understand very little about the exclusion of air from the furnaces, or of burning their wood in piles: their science seems limited to the combustion of small fragments heaped up over one another till the fire below them is choked, or subdued by pouring water upon the top. I am not aware whether the other negroes have mastered the secret of charcoal-making; but if what has been said about the Dyoor holds good about Africa in general, it accounts at once for the remarkable fact that in spite of the abundance of the crude material, iron is so little employed. There is a universal absence of lime, so that stone erections are quite unknown.

If a comparison might be instituted, I should say that in Africa iron might be estimated to have a value about equivalent to copper with us, whilst the worth of copper would correspond to that of silver.

DYOOR HUTS.

For fifteen years have the Nubians now been brought into contact with this region, but they have never taught the natives either the way of making bricks or any intelligent conception of the use of charcoal. Themselves too lazy to improve the treasures which a bountiful Nature has flung amongst them, they are too idle and too indifferent to stimulate even the people they have subjugated to put forth any energy at all. And this is but one proof out of many of the demoralising tendency of Islamism, which would ever give a retrograde movement to all civilisation.

Throughout Africa I have never come across a tribe that has not adopted a mode of building huts which, alike with respect to exterior and interior, is not peculiar to itself. The huts of the Dyoor do not resemble the mushroom shapes of the Shillooks, nor are they like the substantial huts of the Dinka, massive and distinguished by small outbuildings and porches. Again, they could not for a moment be mistaken to be dwellings of the Bongo, because they have no straw projections about the top of the roof. In a general way they are a yet more simple and unadorned construction—​not that they are destitute of that neat symmetry which seems to belong to all negro dwellings. The roof is a simple pyramid of straw, of which the section is an equilateral triangle, the substructure being all of wickerwork, either of wood or bamboo, and cemented with clay.

Inside every hut there is a large receptacle for storing whatever corn or other provision is necessary for the household. These are made of wickerwork, and have a shape like great bottles. To protect them against the rats, which never fail to carry on their depredations, they are most carefully overdaubed with thick clay. They occupy a very large proportion of the open space in the interior; very often they are six or seven feet in height, and sometimes are made from a compound of chopped stubble and mud. After the huts have been abandoned, and all else has fallen into decay, these very frequently survive, and present the appearance of a bake-oven gone to ruin. In the Arabic of the Soudan this erection is called a “googah.” It is derived from the Dinka; the huts of the Bongo and the Niam-niam having nothing of the sort, because they build detached granaries for their corn.

The picture which is here introduced is a representation of the rural pursuits of this peaceful tribe. It is presumed to be winter time, when, for some months to come, no rain is to be expected. It may be taken as illustrating what might be witnessed at any time between October and April. The tall erections adjacent to the huts contain the various grain requisite for the next seed time, and may be supposed to be full of the sorghum, the maize, and the gourd.[23] It is better to let these be exposed to the sun rather than to run the risk of having them devoured by rats or vermin in the huts. Underneath these structures the goats are hid; besides these, dogs and some poultry are the only domestic animals they keep.

The open space in front of the huts consists of a plain, most carefully levelled by treading it down. Upon this floor, which is perfectly hard, the corn is winnowed; and it serves as a common area for all domestic purposes. In front of the huts, too, sunk to some depth below the ground, there is a great wooden mortar, in which the corn, after it has been first pounded by the primitive African method of stones, is reduced to a fine meal by rubbing with the hands. The Dinka also use these sunken mortars, which are hewn out of some hard wood; but the Bongo and Niam-niam carry with them movable mortars of a smaller size.

To the right may be observed a man, who is collecting iron ore, and one of the wicker baskets which belong to the reserve of corn. Great gongs hang upon the posts towards the left, and some of the massive bows, of which the strings are ready stretched by a billet to serve as snares. This artifice is employed by several of the people of this district to facilitate their chase of the wild buffaloes. Very strong straps of hide are strained across the tall grass of the lowlands, where the buffaloes congregate. One end is fastened either to a tree or to a peg driven into the ground, the other end attached to the bow. This forms a kind of noose which, through the rebound of the billet, tightens itself about the legs of the buffalo when it strains it. The startled beast makes a bound, and is immediately fettered. The hunters, who had been lying in wait, seize this moment and, with their lances, strike at the prey, which, if not utterly entangled, is sure by the bow to be obstructed in its running. In a similar way all the larger antelopes are captured, especially the powerful eland, at which it is hard to get, even after it has been driven to the marshy levels.

Good large families have the Dyoor; and were it not that the Nubians come upon the land, and every year carry off at least half the corn that is grown, there would long ago have been, as with their kindred on the White Nile, a dense Dyoor population. They partake also of the skilfulness of the Shillooks in obtaining resources for livelihood in various ways: they pursue the chase, they practise fishing when they have the chance; they are industrious in tillage; they thoroughly appreciate the value of cattle, and would like to possess it, although in their new settlement they can boast little more than a few kids and goats. To have a well-stocked poultry-yard, and to possess that friend of man, a good dog, is essential to the satisfaction of a Dyoor household. Upon these the attention of the men is centred, and on these they make their largest outlay. If they escape servitude to the Nubians, and are not obliged to turn porters to convey their burdens, or builders to erect their dwellings, they employ themselves with their fishing and hunting, or in practising the art of Tubal Cain. Labour in the fields is all done by the women, upon whom also falls the entire domestic superintendence as well as the actual work of the house; they make all the wickerwork and do all the manipulation of the clay; they trample down the level floor and mould the vessels of every size. It is remarkable how they manage with the mere hand to turn out immense vessels which, even to a critical eye, have all the appearance of being made on a wheel. In order to render a clay floor perfectly level and free from cracks they work in a very original way. They procure from the woods a piece of tough bark, about three feet long; they then kneel down upon the clay, and persevere in patting it with their pieces of bark till they make the surface of the soil as smooth as though it had been rolled. In a very similar way they prepare the graves for their dead, which they arrange very close to their huts. A circular mound, some three or four feet high, indicates the situation of the last resting-place of a Dyoor so long as the violence of the rain allows it to retain its shape; but a very few years suffice to obliterate the final vestiges of these transient memorials.

Affection for parents and for children is developed amongst the Dyoor much more decidedly than in any other Central African tribe which I have known. In a way that I have not observed among other pagan negroes, they place their infants in long baskets that answer the purpose of cradles. There is a kind of affection which even brutes can display to their offspring as well as human beings. In the very lowest grades of human society there is ever a kind of bond which lasts for life between mother and child, although the father may be a stranger to it. Such, to say the least, is the measure of affection which the Dyoor show to their little ones. Nor is this all; they have a reverence for age; and in every hamlet there are grey heads amongst them.