Exploration of Aïr E-Book

Angus Buchanan

• Herausgeber: Librorium Editions
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

A narrative of an odd undertaking to a foreign land. Odd, in the first place, insomuch that for the greater part of a year a man’s tongue was mute to the language of his race, for the land where he travelled was native: first to the Hausa people; later to Hausa, Beri-Beri, Fulani and Tuareg; and later still to Tuareg alone; while over all there was a mere handful of French Europeans, who were the military administrators of law and order.
The country was that known as the Territoire Militaire du Niger of the Western Sudan, wherein, remote and in the midst of desolate seas of sand, lies the wild brooding mountain country of Aïr or Asben—which was the traveller’s goal.
It might be said that the traveller was a rude man, for he was untutored in the deep studies of the scholar of many languages, as in a measure might be expected and understood of one whose occupation called him from day to day to don rough clothing and shoulder a rifle and march outside the frontiers of civilisation.

Leseprobe

EXPLORATION OF AÏR OUT OF THE WORLD NORTH OF NIGERIA

BY ANGUS BUCHANAN, M.C.AUTHOR OF “THREE YEARS OF WAR IN EAST AFRICA,” AND

1921

© 2023 Librorium Editions

ISBN : 9782385740344

TOMY FATHER A THOROUGH SPORTSMAN OF THE FINE OLD SCHOOL

PREFACE

A narrative of an odd undertaking to a foreign land. Odd, in the first place, insomuch that for the greater part of a year a man’s tongue was mute to the language of his race, for the land where he travelled was native: first to the Hausa people; later to Hausa, Beri-Beri, Fulani and Tuareg; and later still to Tuareg alone; while over all there was a mere handful of French Europeans, who were the military administrators of law and order.

The country was that known as the Territoire Militaire du Niger of the Western Sudan, wherein, remote and in the midst of desolate seas of sand, lies the wild brooding mountain country of Aïr or Asben—which was the traveller’s goal.

It might be said that the traveller was a rude man, for he was untutored in the deep studies of the scholar of many languages, as in a measure might be expected and understood of one whose occupation called him from day to day to don rough clothing and shoulder a rifle and march outside the frontiers of civilisation.

Clumsy, therefore, were his beginnings in speech with the people of the land; clumsy also his studies and understanding of all things new and strange which unfolded before his eyes in that amazing succession of novelty that taxes a balanced capacity of observation when one stands spell-bound at the entrance of an unexpected wonderland. Nevertheless, day by day, confusion became less; small words came of many tongues; piece by piece threads of understanding became woven into something durable and of the character of trustworthiness.

So that to-day I—for, alas, I must use that personal pronoun which is hateful to me, and admit that I am the traveller, so that I may shoulder the full responsibility as to the faithfulness of this narrative—have taken courage to tell my story with all its shortcomings, but at the same time with an earnestness that may in the end reveal, perhaps, the greater part of the picture of a strange land as it appeared to me.

And I would tell you that it is a wholly pleasant task to sit at home—Home, with all its repose and sweetness, neither sun-exhausted nor limb-weary, and with a full repast at hand—and look backward on the trail through the Sahara, and hear in imagination the fierce wind that brings a blinding sandstorm on its billows, and only have to write about it all.

But, though thus it is to-day, to-morrow or the day after I may be gone once again to the uttermost corners of the world—for such is my calling.

Some of my countrymen might envy me my to-morrow, some might pity me; but to all I would say neither one thing nor another. Such adventurings have their rare hours of pleasure and excitement and their long weary periods of trial and endurance. He is wise who knows the hazard of life stripped of all its romance and does not expect to find either great compensation or great gladness in strange lone lands—in the same way as they are seldom to be found in any man’s labours of the commonplace day.

It is deep satisfaction to me to know that, so far as the collections brought back are concerned, my labours have not been in vain, for it is one of my greatest desires, and the desire, I am sure, of many loyal-hearted men, to see Great Britain ever striving to continue to hold the honourable and prominent place in the development of the Natural History of the World which she has held in the Past. A year or two ago there were numerous and able rivals in the field, and Germany and America appeared to be on the verge of leading the world in all scientific research. Though a set-back to the former has occurred through the unfortunate circumstance of war, rivalry of nations will undoubtedly continue in the labyrinths of research, and, I trust, will be welcomed from any quarter as a healthy element that will ever give incentive to the students and scientific workers of this country to hold their own, and offer inducement to public-spirited people to encourage and support their commendable efforts.

The humble work, which in the following pages I venture upon, is not in any way a treatise on Natural History, but is a narrative descriptive of strange scenes and peoples in Out-of-the-World places in which Aïr has prominent position. And Aïr, in the centre of the Sahara, is unknown, or virtually unknown to English-speaking people. The German explorer Dr. Barth, in his travels in Central Africa, 70 years ago (1850-1), on behalf of the British Government, passed through Aïr, and in his Travels in Central Africa gave some brief discursive description of the country, which is, so far as I am aware, the only account of Aïr that we have in modern English literature.

But to return to my first remark, there are other reasons than that given in the first place for terming this an odd undertaking, and they are that the journey, which totalled some 1,400 miles of camel-travel, led to a land that was almost virgin to exploration of any kind, and of which nothing was known; while by force of circumstances it was decided for me that I must go on my long journey alone if I wished to undertake it; and therefore, perforce, I set out without the two or three good comrades that can help so greatly to lighten burdens, real or imaginary, on long uncertain trails.

The primary object of the Expedition, which was undertaken in the interests of the Right Honourable Lord Rothschild, was to link up the chain of Zoological Geography across that portion of Central Africa which lies between Algeria in Northern Africa and Nigeria in West Africa. Previous research had advanced from the south as far afield as Kano in Nigeria, and from the north to the Ahaggar Mountains in the Sudan southwest of Fezzan. There remained a great intermediate space unexplored by naturalists, wherein are the French possessions known as the Territoire Militaire du Niger and the unsettled mountainous region of Aïr or Asben; and it was through those said countries that the expedition proposed to journey.

With regard to the term Aïr or Asben which is applied to the great range of mountains which lie north of the region of Damergou, I think it is a pity that there should exist the seeming doubt of correct designation which the double title implies, and for my own part I propose, through my narrative, to refer only to the country as Aïr, which is the correct name in the language of the Tuaregs who inhabit the region, whereas Asben is a Hausa name, and would appear to have no particular claim to recognition since it is not Hausa country in the present era, whatever it may have been in the distant past, when tribal and religious wars were continually forcing territories to change hands.

The altitude readings, which I note during the narrative, since many of them have not been previously recorded, were taken with an aneroid barometer set to sea level before starting on the expedition.

Although the expedition was to a French colony, I feel that it was foreign only so far as concerned the difference of language, for the few officers I encountered, who so ably helped me on my way, if help I needed, were big-hearted men of the Lone Places among whom one could not feel a stranger. To all I owe thanks for such success as I gained, and gladly give it should any old comrade of the open road read this humble work.

I am indebted, also, to the administrative officials in charge of the Kano district who kindly rendered me many services ere I set out to cross the boundary.

Collecting in the field is one side of Natural History research, but there is, as you are aware, another side—the painstaking study of the specimens after they are unpacked on the museum benches at home. And I am much indebted to Lord Rothschild, Dr. Hartert, and the British Museum for having most kindly furnished me with the full results of the skilled studies of research to which the collections have been subjected since my return, for in so doing they have placed most valuable records at my disposal, so that I may draw from that large fund of knowledge when desired and enhance the value of this work.

Angus Buchanan.

CONTENTS

PAGE

Introduction (by Lord Rothschild)

xxi

CHAPTER

I

Engaging Boys—Lagos

1

II

Kano, Northern Nigeria

13

III

Hausa—Currency—Camels—Travelling

33

IV

A Day’s Work Collecting

60

V

Zinder

73

VI

The Shores of Bushland and Desert

82

VII

Ostrich Hunting

95

VIII

Leaving the Bushland Behind—Aïr Entered

121

IX

Agades

134

X

Aïr: North to Baguezan Mountains and Hunting Barbary Sheep

148

XI

In Baguezan Mountains

164

XII

The Northern Regions of Aïr: Part I

177

XIII

The Northern Regions of Aïr: Part II

197

XIV

East of Baguezan: Aouderas and Tarrouaji

215

XV

The Tuaregs of Aïr

232

XVI

Heading for Home

241

Appendix: New Species discovered

247

Index

255

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Out of the World

Frontispiece

FACING PAGE

The Author

12

View of Kano City

12

A Street-lane in Kano

28

An Entrance in the Mud Walls of Kano

28

A Hausa Native riding an Ox, Kano

42

Cattle of Hausaland

42

Natives drawing Water at Baban Tubki Wells, Zinder

76

Among the Rocks of Zinder

76

Beri-Beri Bushmen, Damergou

92

Tanout Village

92

Young Ostriches

104

Dorcas Gazelle

104

A Lonely Tuareg Camp in the Bush

124

Sundown in the Desert

124

View of Agades

142

Throne-Room of the Sultan of Agades

142

My Caravan on the Arrajubjub River

150

Typical Aïr Landscape

150

Typical Boulder Composition of many Aïr Mountains and Hills

168

Minerou, Chief of Baguezan, and Saidi, my Goumier

168

Wild Men, Northern Aïr

190

Approaching Iferouan

190

In Aguellal Mountains at 3,100 Feet

202

We find a Precious Pool of Water S.E. of Aguellal, Aïr

202

Teouar, a Typical Deserted Village of Aïr

218

Tuareg Boys of Baguezan Mountains

234

“Atagoom,” A Tuareg Native of Aïr in Typical Dress

234

Agades Fort, Built with Clay-mud

242

Caught in Flood Rains below Tegguidi

242

Map of Author’s Route

At End

INTRODUCTION

Ever since Dr. Hartert[1] came to Tring, twenty-nine years ago, I have been keenly interested in the isolated mountains of Asben or Aïr in the middle of the Sahara, and the country surrounding them. This was chiefly owing to Dr. Hartert’s account of his interview with some Tuareg traders who had come down into Nigeria to sell salt. This interest was intensified by our own explorations in Algeria and “Les Territoires du Sud,” and Geyr von Schweppenburg and Spatz’s journeys in the Ahaggar Mountains, all of which yielded many zoological treasures. Therefore, Dr. Hartert and I felt much satisfaction when, after his strenuous labours in the war in East Africa, Captain Angus Buchanan fell in with our views and undertook to explore Asben and the country between it and Kano, in North Nigeria, the terminus of the new railway. The eleven months occupied in the undertaking have proved most fruitful, for, besides the interesting ethnological and other facts recorded in the subsequent pages of this book, the zoological results have been most valuable. These latter results have been published in Novitates Zoologicæ, the journal of the Tring Museum, in a series of articles by Messrs. O. Thomas and M. A. C. Hinton,[2] Dr. Hartert and myself.

The number of new species and sub-species is very large, especially among the Mammals; Mr. Thomas indeed says that he has never known a collection of Mammals, from a limited area such as this, with so large a proportion of novelties. Among the new Mammals, the most interesting are undoubtedly the “Gundi” (Massoutiera), the Rock-Dassy (Procavia), and the “Mouflon” (Ammotragus), because of the immense stretches of desert which separate them from allied species and sub-species.

Among the Birds, one of the most interesting is the beautiful goatsucker (Caprimulgus eximius simplicior), for, although a slightly different subspecies, it illustrates once more the fact that many species inhabit a belt south of the Sahara from N.E. Africa across the African Continent to West Africa, while most of the forms north and south of that belt do not show such a wide range from east to west.

Among the Lepidoptera, the most interesting species are all true “desert” forms, with a wide range reaching through Arabia into India, although several new species and sub-species of butterflies and moths of great interest are also in the collection.

From a zoo-geographical point of view the collection is most valuable, for we now know zoologically a complete section of the “Great Saharan Desert,” with the exception of the small portion between the Ahaggar Mountains and Asben, and although the region of the Sahara south of the former is undoubtedly tropical, and not palæarctic, in its fauna, it is very remarkable what a large number of palæarctic species and genera are still to be found there. Unlike most of the collecting-grounds of the Old World, which can still yield new and undescribed forms, Asben and its neighbourhood were absolutely virgin soil zoologically, and Captain Buchanan’s specimens are the first to reach the hands of scientific workers. Considering the long journey by camel and the fact that Captain Buchanan was working absolutely single-handed, the collecting of over 1,100 Birds and Mammals and over 2,000 Lepidoptera, in a region notorious for its paucity, both of species and individuals, is a remarkable achievement, and proves him to be a most efficient explorer and naturalist.

Rothschild.

Tring Museum,

March 22nd, 1921.

OUT OF THE WORLD

CHAPTER IENGAGING BOYS—LAGOS

It was at Seccondee on the Gold Coast that “John” came aboard. Do not mistake me!—he was not a first-class passenger nor an acquaintance. Far from it; he was one of a motley crowd of jabbering natives which, with an extraordinary conglomeration of hand-carried household belongings, were put aboard from surf boats and herded on to the open after-deck—already stacked with sacks of Kola nuts from Sierra Leone—like so many head of frightened sheep.

No! John was certainly not of a race or rank to claim intimate acquaintance. In the first place he was as black as the ace of spades, which in itself for ever barred him from any claim to equality or kinship—a hard plain fact which any old colonial on “The Coast” or anywhere in Africa would endorse, while with grave misgivings regretting the extraordinary policy and laws that grow, from what sane source is past understanding, more and more lenient in their evident stiffness of opinion to release native inhabitants of our colonies from the slightest restraint of a dominant European rulership; policy that is reacting— surely not with short-sighted blindness?—to bring about the downfall of the fine old decorum of the white man’s prestige which natives naturally observed in every respect in the past. And it would be well to remember, those singular innovations which are being brought in on the tide of European civilisation are being entrusted to natives who are endowed by nature with characteristics of a different race type to ours and which are irrevocably unchangeable at the line of their limitations. European education and European laws along certain well-chosen, sure-set lines can cultivate those characteristics of the native to a certain standard—but not one step further. It is the logic of Nature: up to a point, with many creatures and plants and even matter, artificial cultivation is possible and beneficial; but over-experiment with the material, over-nurture and Nature steps in and calls a decisive halt in this tampering with her creations, and death or decline is thenceforth observed.

It is difficult for anyone to foresee the Future— that word of wonderful depth which is the most awesome in the English language—into which men may cast the biggest venturings of experiment in the world; and generations watch them rise and flourish if they be right, or flounder and go under if they be wrong. And surely it shall never be— this would-be blending of two entirely opposite races to a semblance of equality, though it is for the present this ugly threat which is often before the “Coaster” and the men on the bush stations to-day.

But to return to John, for John has importance in the narrative, which African politics have not, the ship had hauled anchor and cleared Seccondee for Lagos, and I stood solitary by the taffrail of the upper deck looking idly on the low line of typical African shore that lay indistinctly in the north. The deck, for the moment, was free of passengers, for it was in the quiet afternoon hours, when almost everyone on board retired to indulge in a pleasant book or a snooze, as is the after-lunch habit in hot enervating climates like Africa.

But, suddenly, I was not alone, and a native, who had no doubt watched his chance to break the bounds of the lower-deck, stood beside me waiting permission to speak.

“What do you want?” I asked, somewhat curiously. “You have no right to be on this deck.”

“I want I make work for you, sir,” replied the native. “My massa, he live for back, him go England. I plenty glad work for you, sir.”

“But,” I warned, “suppose I want a boy? I am a hunter. I am not going to live in a town or station in Nigeria where the duties of cook-boy or house-boy are ordinary. I am going to travel far in a strange land north of Kano; work will be hard and plenty; good boys will catch good pay; bad boys will go home quick and catch nothing. You are a coast boy, and I do not think you are fit for bush in far country.”

But the boy was not so easily discouraged, either he wanted employment urgently or was ignorant of the full purport of my “white man talk,” for he answered in his pigeon English, with a broad grin of hopefulness: “Dat be all same same, sir! I no fit savvy dat bush now, dat’s true, by-n-bye I plenty fit to look him. I want work for you—I good boy, sir!”

To which what could one do but smile? But, nevertheless, I now looked the boy over more attentively.

His thick-set bulldog head was excessively ugly and unprepossessing in all its features. Any face is dull which has no attraction in the eyes or in the mouth, and those of this negro native had none, for the soiled whites of his eyes rolled alarmingly, and the large mouth had lips rolled into one that would have served three ordinary men adequately. Moreover, he was an Awori native of the Coast, and had profuse tribe marks on his face: three small deep-stamped marks over the cheek-bones, and a line of fourteen marks of the same stamp between the eye-corners and ears, while on the centre of the forehead he had a sort of square and compass scroll more lightly branded than the rest. He was clad, not in the picturesque nakedness of the aboriginal, but, after the fashion of the majority of “boys” on the Coast, in the cast-off clothing of some late master—even to a tweed cap, which sat with ridiculous incongruity on his black woolly head. Altogether he was a regular dandy in “rig-out.” But he was no exception in that respect, for the comical and audacious dress of house-boys of his kind, who are inordinately full of personal swagger, has ever been a source of much amusement to colonials and strangers alike.

It did not take long to size the native up and note those brief somewhat unfavourable characteristics. But at the same time I had appraised the thick-set, sturdy build of the boy, so that the conclusions I finally arrived at were: “An ugly devil—not over intelligent, no doubt—but strong and healthy, and should stand up through plenty of hard work—and he looks honest.”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“John, sir!” he replied. “John Egbuna,” he added, by way of giving his full name; for it was no less a person than he who had come aboard at Seccondee.

“All right,” I said, moving towards the deck smoking-room. “Come to me when we dock at Lagos and you can work for me.”

Thus John made his appearance. By keen watchfulness he had risked the abuse of ship’s officers and stolen a chance interview, and taking him on in this way was a chance shot, but time proved it to be a lucky one, for John went right through the whole expedition, ever faithful as a dog to his master, while his companions, one by one, fell out.

The ship docked at Lagos after she had come in over the bar on an early morning tide, and steamed slowly inshore and up the wide river-like tidal lagoon of muddy water disfigured with surface-floating green slime-like vegetation and white froth, which escaped, no doubt, from some swamp bank further inland. It was a lagoon which was nevertheless picturesque and novel, with a light morning haze upon waters from which protruded the poles and loosely hanging nets of many fish traps, past which, or about which, up and down the lagoon, plied long lithe dug-outs, and odd-shaped craft of many kinds, single-sailed, or pole-driven, or paddled, and paintless and dark as their negro occupants, except where the gay colour of a cotton garb caught the eye on a boatman more extravagant than his brethren, who were generally rag-clad or naked to the waist.

At Lagos, when I had landed, I made the disconcerting discovery that there was no hotel—a circumstance strange in a port of importance and modern in nearly every other way. I had natives to engage in Lagos for my forthcoming travels, and other business, and therefore it was necessary to stay a few days in the place. Lagos, being a crowded town, was not the sort of place one could pitch a tent in, or that would have been quickly done; but I finally overcame the difficulty by interviewing the purser on the ship, who kindly allowed me to retain my berth on board while the ship unloaded her cargo.

And in that little cabin, in the course of events, some strange interviews were entered on. I had an old-country friend on shore, and with true Coast courtesy he sent his head-boy out into the native town to carry the news that there was a white man on the ship who wanted natives to go north with him, but that, “he want to look boy fit to skin fine fine.”

Native news travels fast even in modern Lagos, and soon boys of various races and types began to come aboard armed with their pass-books and letters testifying character—in some cases letters which were truly from past masters, in others, false and flattering documents borrowed for the occasion were tendered, such is the unscrupulous craftiness of some castes.

The outcome of two days of interviewing natives was not very encouraging, since no boy was discovered who could skin birds or animals with practical skill. However, at the end of the second day I had selected three boys and dismissed the rest, despite their clamourings to be heard further and reluctance to leave the ship.

One of the natives held over for further examination was an extraordinary individual, with all smooth face features absolutely obliterated by the mass of seared vertical lines of tribe marks which ornamented his entire face. He was of middle age, lean, and hard-looking, and obviously the hunter and tracker that he claimed to be. What this individual proposed, when an engagement was broached, was that he be allowed to go to his tribe in the first place to take the news of his departure to his people, and then return and catch up with my caravan wherever I might be. Inquiry revealed that his home was distant a whole month’s travel by canoe along the coast. It would take him two months to go and return, and after that he would have to find my camp “somewhere” north of Kano. Yet he appeared to think nothing of such distance and to take to travelling as a duck to water, and declared with conviction that he would meet “master” anywhere, if he would but employ him. I had met this type of tireless hunter among natives before, and they are invariably very good if you can secure them. But, all things considered, taking the man on in faith of fulfilment of merely verbal promises, and advancing him some money to provide for his wives in his absence, savoured too much of bad business; and as he would not pack up and come along as he stood, he was finally allowed to go, with the understanding that if he hurried to his tribe and caught up with the expedition north of Kano, he would then be taken on at good wages, and his “back-time” made good.[3]

The other two boys were Hausa natives, the tribe that I had been strongly advised by men of experience to get my boys from if possible. They were both young—20 to 23—and had been selected from the crowd as being in appearance the most intelligent, for as it was of the utmost importance to secure some help in dressing specimens in the field, it was my intention to teach them to skin if in early practice they should show any aptitude for the work.

Hence one of them was sent ashore to the market in Lagos with instructions to buy a pair of tame pigeons, which would suffice for my purpose in lieu of a specimen dropped to the gun.

Thereafter, down in the hot narrow cabin, while the ship lay at anchor, I gave an object lesson on bird skinning—a necessary but not very edifying proceeding. To begin with, there was a ridiculous familiar pillow-cushion aspect about those dead tame pigeons which robbed one at once of any æsthetic enthusiasm, no matter how solemnly I was prepared to set about the delicate operation of skinning; and a glance from the work-table to my pupils, great loutish curly-headed negroes, with no appreciable sign of dawning understanding as my handiwork proceeded, made me much more inclined to laugh than to be serious.

When the lesson for the day was over, I sent the boys home with money to buy each a pigeon, which they were to try to skin in their homes in the way I had shown, and bring their handiwork on the morrow.

In due course they came aboard again with their “specimens”: one poor skin in rags and with half the plumage gone, the other not so heavily handled, and showing some signs of painstaking work. On that day the lesson in my cabin was repeated, and then independently at home, and the result was that, on the eve of starting north to Kano, one boy—Sakari by name—was engaged, since he had shown some intelligence and skill over his skinning lessons, and the other dismissed as useless, as he had developed no aptitude for the work.

It may not be out of place to say here, while on the subject, that in spite of reports one hears at times of natives who have become expert at preparing specimens—doubtless exceptions—I would advise no collector to rely on local skill to any great extent, for I have always found them most difficult to educate, and skilful and careful only up to a certain point. For my own part I have never employed a native on such work who, when the skin was separated from the carcass, I could allow to apply the coating of preservative and reset the specimen in the natural, faultless repose which is essential to a finished skin required for scientific purposes. For straightforward skinning, however, good natives are procurable, and with practice can save much of the collector’s time by doing the preliminary work.

Meantime, while hunting preparations were progressing, I had spent some time on shore each day in the native quarters of Lagos. The port at which a traveller disembarks in a land which is foreign always holds the lively interest of novelty, if nothing more, and Lagos had much that was novel. Notwithstanding the fact that the outward aspect from the lagoon is almost entirely European, Lagos is, broadly speaking, a great native city; and it is on that account that it is so attractive to the curious stranger. The European section, which runs chiefly in a line along the long shores of the lagoon, is as a rampart between the sea and the great area of native town which lies hidden behind the solidity and imposing stature of the commercial and domestic buildings of the white man. And it is behind those colonial buildings that one must pass to gain entrance to the true city of primitive native hutments which bears the aspect of the historic antiquity and primitive character of the people who inhabit it. So turning from the main street which runs along the water-front, and walking up one of the side-streets, one finds oneself immediately among curious scenes and curious people in narrow streets which are lined with irregular closely packed native huts on either side—huts of every imaginable shape, and built, for the most part, with a most nondescript collection of materials which owners appear to have gathered together with little or no cost to their pockets. The walls of the huts are of mud, but the roofs, if they are not thatched, and the little dog-kennels of bazaars which are in front of almost every dwelling, are made up with old crate-boards, planks, corrugated iron, pieces of tin, old sacks, canvas— anything; paintless, untidy squalor for the most part, and the sun-basking places of countless lizards that come out from behind the shady cracks.

Were the huts and the streets deserted of human life, Lagos would indeed be a dismal place, and little short of one huge rubbish heap; but it is entirely otherwise, for the scene is crowded— even overcrowded—with life and colour, and hence attractive and sometimes very beautiful, and down the hot dusty streets, which in many instances are very narrow, and in and out of side lanes, one may pass for hours and never be clear of the brilliant cotton-clad throng; every individual of which, whether Yuroba, Egba, Hausa, Arab or Kroo, seems intent on selling or buying something in a veritable hive of trading and industry.

It is an uncommon sight, and a wonderfully picturesque one, to view those busy streets of native Lagos—their fullness of motion and rich, almost Oriental colouring of native dress, worn as a rule with all the grace of perfect physique; bazaars bright with wares exposed for sale; children toddling by the doors; and goats and chickens, at risk of their lives, tripping and feeding among the throng. Time without number, as I passed curiously through those streets, my eye was arrested by little gleams of perfect colouring in a perfect natural native setting—lovely pictures without one single act of preparation or posture—and I confess I sighed and moved on, regretting I was not an artist with genius to catch such scenes, and hold them in all their beauty and simplicity, so that I might show them also to my fellow-men, less fortunate in their freedom to travel.

Wherefrom it may be gathered that I much enjoyed my brief sojourn in Lagos, where I would fain have stayed longer, had not my duties called me to hurry on to Kano.