CHAPTER IX.

OUR JOURNEY TO MOJANGÁ.

OUR work in Imerina was done: we had only a fortnight left to make our preparations for another voyage, to complete sundry matters of business, and say farewell to our friends. The day after our return we attended the opening services of Mr. Jukes’s church at Ankadibeváva on the east slope of the city-hill. The Directors of the Society had assisted the native congregation by a grant of £300: and for that sum and other contributions raised by the people, Mr. Pool had erected a substantial and handsome building, convenient for worship and an ornament to the city. The church, when the seats are finished, will hold eight hundred people. The congregations were large at the opening services, and as in other lands on similar occasions the ladies appeared in bright and even gorgeous dresses. Several new hymns and tunes, prepared for the occasion, were most effectively sung by choirs from various churches and the congregation at large. Amongst other addresses, a touching sermon was preached by an officer high in the Government and the community, from the text: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

Among minor incidents of our life at this time, I may mention that, while spending a pleasant evening with Dr. Davidson, the house and city were well shaken by an earthquake, the second we have experienced during our year in the island. The shock was a moderate one, and its general direction was north and south.

On Thursday, July 16th, we were invited to a very pleasant entertainment, by the members of the Friends’ Mission, the Medical Mission and of our own Society, that they might express their kind feelings toward us in relation to our visit, and together wish us farewell. The members of the Friends’ Mission have all along been working in perfect harmony with our own: and it was a source of great satisfaction to my colleague and myself, that by making their acquaintance, looking into the form and character of their work, and settling one or two questions which had been pending, we had been able to draw the bonds between the two missions even closer than before. To the members of the Medical Mission the families of our mission are under great obligations for constant and unvarying kindness: while in their special work of giving effective help to the native families of the city, young and old, rich and poor, and in the medical education of young men, our brethren and ourselves can feel nothing but warm sympathy, and give them willing co-operation and aid. The stations of the Norwegian Mission we had seen in various parts of the southern country; and from all the missionary brethren, in country and in town, we had experienced great kindness. The members of all four missions are at the present time in complete accord; they have the same spiritual aims; they teach the same Evangelical doctrine: they are co-operating in many ways together in their plans: and week by week they meet together in each other’s homes to ask for the same Divine blessing on the missions to which they belong. That we had done anything to promote this loving union, was a source of much pleasure to us both. We were assured in various quarters that it was so. And at this social gathering Mr. Dahl spoke in affectionate and emphatic terms of the benefit which, in this direction of union, our visit had conferred upon them all.

The native pastors manifested the warmest affection toward us, as the time of our departure drew near: and on Saturday evening they paid us a formal visit. Fifteen were present. They said kind things of ourselves and our coming amongst them: gave each of us a beautiful silk lamba as a parting gift: sent the most affectionate messages to the Directors and the friends of the Society at home; and then requested Mr. Pillans as a pastor of long experience to give them some parting counsels in regard to their work. When he had finished the younger pastors, who had but just left the College and entered upon Church work, asked for a few special words for themselves. No young pastors in England could have made the request more naturally, have listened more intelligently, or have been more grateful for the weighty words which fell from my colleague’s lips, than these young men. And it gives us hope and confidence in regard to the future of our churches, that such are the simple, true-hearted, well-trained ministers of Christ, whom our Theological College has begun to send forth to be the guides and instructors of the Malagasy Church.

Our friends within the Palace also studiously manifested their regard for us. Three of the principal officers, from whom we have all along received much kindness, visited us, and presented us with dresses and other manufactures of the country; each giving us different specimens of native work. And one, not only sent messages to his young cousins, now being educated in Europe, but desired us to express his warmest thanks to the Directors and our Churches, for the service which they have long rendered to his countrymen in Madagascar by preaching among them the gospel of Christ. The Queen and Prime Minister added many expressions and proofs of their regard to those of their relatives and friends. And it was arranged that on the morning of Saturday, July 18th, the Queen should in the presence of the Court, grant us audience to say farewell, as she had given us a formal reception on our arrival; and that she should then place in our hands her reply to the Address of the Directors which we had brought with us.

We were accompanied by several members of the Mission, including our kind interpreter, the Rev. W. E. Cousins, and punctually at ten o’clock we were introduced. The Queen received us in the usual audience hall of her own palace. She was seated on a sofa on the north side of the hall: and we observed that she had under her feet a gilded footstool, sent by a member of my family, while an illuminated Scripture card, given by Mrs. Pillans, was hanging on the wall; a thoughtful recognition of little attentions shown to her in our first interview. There was a large assembly of the officers of government, who stood chiefly on the Queen’s right: and almost as numerous a gathering of ladies, who were seated in two rows upon her left, wearing English morning dress. The interview was a remarkable one in many ways.

Addressing the Queen for my colleague and myself I made the usual enquiries after her health, and the welfare of her kingdom; and then said that we had completed the work which had brought us to Madagascar, and had come to say farewell. We had been sent by their friends across the sea to salute the churches of Madagascar, to consult with them and with the missionaries as to their welfare, to arrange for the enlargement of the mission, and to visit those parts of the country in which the mission is carried on. We had in this way visited the Betsileo province and Imámo, Vonizóngo and the Sihánaka; we had described to her in our letters what we had seen, and especially had expressed our gratification at the great progress of the gospel among the churches of her people. We were now anxious to see the churches in the Sákaláva country, and proposed to take the English steamer at Mojangá.

We thanked her and the Prime Minister for much personal kindness; for their warm interest in the welfare of the churches; and for the wise words spoken by the Queen on several occasions about the schools. We thanked them for their special interest in the progress of the students in the College and in the Normal Schools: and we commended these institutions to their continued care. We thanked the Queen for her care over the English missionaries; and that they and their families and ourselves lived so safely in the land. Might we add one thing. We had seen how the churches were growing: how they worshipped, and kept the Sabbath-day and were governed in an orderly way. But forms were not faith: the spirit and life are needed: the Teacher is the Holy Spirit, the root and rule of faith are to be found only in His word. We should pray for the churches that they might have this life in a large measure: Madagascar has many friends in England, and will have many more. To this Mr. Pillans added a few words. The address was translated sentence by sentence by Mr. Cousins; as was also the reply.

The reply of the Prime Minister was warm and hearty. The Queen (he said) was pleased to see us again and to hear our words; those words were good. The Queen and himself thanked the Directors for their kind presents and the messages they had sent. They were glad, very glad, to see the progress of the gospel among their people: for “What should it profit a man if he gain the whole world, yet lose his own soul?” They were glad we had come to visit the churches and the island: they had often wished that some friends might specially be sent to see the progress which the mission and people had made: therefore they had given us full opportunity to travel everywhere and see things for ourselves: they had nothing to conceal, they wished us to see that the money and labour expended on Madagascar had not been expended in vain. In respect to the missionaries, he said they thought them good men and good preachers and did their work well: but we were sensible men and could judge of this for ourselves. The Queen would still protect them and permit them to continue their work in perfect freedom.

The Prime Minister then, in the name of the Queen, desired us to convey their thanks to the Directors for all the good which the Society had been doing in Madagascar. They remembered that it was our Society, which had sent missionaries and the gospel in the days of Radáma I.: that it had always been their friend; and that it was now sending thirty missionaries for the instruction of their people. Therefore they desired us to convey their thanks to the friends of the Society across the sea for all their kindness. He added a special message about the education of his son, who is under the care of the Directors. Lastly the Queen regretted that we could not be present at the opening of the Palace-church; she would have liked us to be present: but we could see that it was not yet finished. After a few further remarks we took our leave.

The written address, forwarded by the Queen in reply to that of the Directors, is as clear and explicit as the Prime Minister’s spoken words. It is in itself a most interesting document. But the authorities, to manifest their appreciation of the honour which the Directors had shown to them, employed all the means in their power to illuminate and ornament their reply as the Directors had done. The result was a work of art most creditable to the island: it gave the Board great satisfaction; and it will be framed and placed in the Board-room. The words are as follows:—

“TO THE DIRECTORS OF THE LONDON MISSIONARY SOCIETY.

“GENTLEMEN,

“Our good friends, the REV. DR. MULLENS, Foreign Secretary to the LONDON MISSIONARY SOCIETY, and the REV. J. PILLANS, one of the Directors, and his lady, have reached Madagascar in safety; and, whilst we were in Fianarantsoa, had an opportunity of joining with HER MAJESTY and MYSELF in public worship at the camp.

“ON our return to the Capital, they had again an audience of HER MAJESTY and MYSELF in the Palace, and on that occasion they presented your Address, dated London, June 30, 1873, together with the various presents sent by your SOCIETY to HER MAJESTY and MYSELF.

“The Address has been carefully perused, and its contents duly noted by HER MAJESTY, and I am authorised by HER to answer it.

“I have to inform you that, through the blessings of the DIVINE BEING, HER MAJESTY the QUEEN, MYSELF and all the members of the Government, are well. The Kingdom enjoys peace; but, more than that, HER MAJESTY is happy to tell you, that by the power of the MOST HIGH and the mercy of JESUS CHRIST our SAVIOUR, according to the saying, ‘THE KING’S HEART is in the hands of the LORD,’ GOD has shown mercy to our SOVEREIGN, and has enlightened HER to know JESUS CHRIST, and has endowed HER with strength, so that from the time when she began to receive the GOSPEL, SHE has led and encouraged her subjects to serve GOD and pray to HIM through JESUS CHRIST, and to be diligent in using all opportunities of acquiring useful knowledge. SHE has also done her best to help the missionaries of your SOCIETY, so that, during the reign of HER MAJESTY RANAVALOMANJAKA, the Kingdom of CHRIST has made great progress in MADAGASCAR, and the number of believers has increased more than during any period, notwithstanding the way in which the missionaries for many years contended with difficulties, and exerted themselves to the utmost. But still the QUEEN continues to pray GOD that His Kingdom may advance until the joyful words shall be fulfilled which say, ‘They shall all know Me, from the least of them unto the greatest of them, saith the Lord,’

“HER MAJESTY the QUEEN thanks you, the DIRECTORS, and all the constituents of the Society, because she knows your ardent desire to benefit her kingdom by your sending Missionaries and Teachers to preach and teach the GOSPEL and other useful knowledge, from the reign of HIS MAJESTY RADÁMA I. to the present time. HER MAJESTY therefore wishes me to assure you that the missionaries and teachers sent by you to labour in Madagascar shall continue to enjoy HER protection, and be allowed full liberty to preach the Gospel, and to impart useful knowledge in accordance with the laws of the kingdom.

“OUR friends, the REV. DR. MULLENS and the REV. J. PILLANS, have been allowed perfect liberty to travel where-ever they have pleased to visit the Churches of Madagascar, they have had full opportunities of making their own observation, and will be able to bring you a reliable report of the state of things here. MAY GOD protect them to reach you in safety! What they have done here has been good, and has given us much pleasure. They are worthy men, and well fitted to act as the representatives of you, our friends, across the seas. We are especially pleased with their words saying,—‘WE DO NOT TRADE NOR DESIRE TO GAIN ANYTHING FOR OURSELVES, but only that the people may know JESUS CHRIST.’ These are indeed very good words, for they show both the excellence of your views, and also what will be sought by your good brethren the missionaries in Madagascar.

“HER MAJESTY thanks you very much for your kind message, and the good wishes for the prosperity of her kingdom; and SHE prays GOD that they may be fulfilled. SHE also thanks you for the presents you sent HER, and accepts them as a mark of your friendly feelings towards HER.

“AND I, too, thank you very much for the nice presents you sent to me.

“HER MAJESTY also desires me to thank you for the very kind care you have taken of RAPENOELINA, for he was sent by HER Government that he might obtain a good English education. What you have done for him has given HER MAJESTY great satisfaction, as his progress is already manifest from his letters to me. HER MAJESTY will be pleased if you convey to RAPENOELINA’S teacher the thanks of HERSELF and HER GOVERNMENT; for his instruction and kind care have given HER very much pleasure.

“MAY the ALMIGHTY GOD bless you in your useful labours for the evangelizing of mankind, and may HE ever give to the people earnest hearts to help you to spread the GOSPEL of JESUS CHRIST among all nations.

“THAT, dear friends, is the wish of HER MAJESTY the QUEEN of MADAGASCAR and MYSELF for you all.

“I AM, GENTLEMEN, ‘In the name of HER MAJESTY the QUEEN of MADAGASCAR, “YOUR SINCERE FRIEND, “RAINILAIARIVONY, “Prime Minister.

“GIVEN at the COURT of HER MAJESTY the QUEEN of MADAGASCAR, at ANTANANARIVO, this 18th day of July, in the year of OUR LORD, 1874.”

The news of what had passed at this interview, was speedily circulated among the people, and gave them much satisfaction. Pastors and congregations everywhere expressed a hearty concurrence with the words of their Sovereign; for there prevails among them a deep feeling of attachment to the Society, which for fifty years has stood their friend, which never forgot them in the dark days, which sprang at once to their side when light and order returned, and which is doing at the present time more than ever for the edification of its Malagasy children.

Our heavy baggage was sent on a-head. On Sunday we held a farewell service with our missionary brethren of the four Societies and their families: and on Tuesday morning many of them accompanied us several miles along the banks of the Ikopa. Then with difficulty we said farewell; and took our last look of the city of Antanánarivo, in which we had spent so many pleasant days. Just at sunset, we safely reached Vonizongo: and occupied our old quarters at Fiháonana in Mr. Matthews’s house.

The route to the north-west coast which we were about to follow was new to Englishmen, though employed for fifty years by the native authorities. Since Radáma and his cousin Rámanétaka, with the Hova army, subdued the Iboina district in 1824, and governors (or commanders as they are termed) and garrisons had been placed in several of its towns, messengers, officers and detachments of troops have continually passed up and down country between Imerina and the conquered province. Unhappily little information could be gathered from them; for our native friends make neither Itineraries nor maps; they have no good standard for measuring distance or time: and changes in the scenery, details as to valleys, hills and rivers, are things which they have not yet learned to note. M. Grandidier travelled from Mojangá to the Capital; but he did so by a route some miles to the east of our own: and even of that route he has spoken only in brief terms. Mr. Maynard, who returned to England a few months before ourselves, had at our suggestion taken this route; and he gave us several valuable hints and indicated the general character of our journey. A colporteur also from Vonizongo prepared for us an outline of his own proceedings and adventures, when he visited the churches down country last year.

All parties took great interest in our proposed expedition: the majority regarding it with hearty approval, while others gravely shook their heads. “It was a serious experiment:” “the fevers were deadly.” “The roads were rough and rocky,” said the bearers: “Sákalávas, enemies, robbers, were to be expected:” “for some days the country was a desert; and we should find nothing to eat for ourselves and our people, and no place to sleep!” We persevered; for we have conquered such difficulties before: and have found Malagasy, as well as English, bugbears and bogies collapse when well grasped. It was of importance that the churches in the Sakalava country should no longer be overlooked; that an attempt should be made to open the route more fully to Mojangá; and that the Directors should be enabled to decide whether an English missionary should or should not be placed at that station, with a view to superintend the churches and the mission work of the district at large. The fears of the bearers could of course be gauged by money: they soon showed that if they were to go at all, they intended to make a good thing of the journey: and it was not without difficulty that their exorbitant demands were reduced within reasonable limits. Even then we had to pay twenty-six shillings to each man for the journey down, before our arrangements could be completed; and several of our best men deserted us at the last moment, because they thought that rate not sufficiently remunerative. Mr. Matthews had engaged to be our companion and interpreter: but early in July, family illness compelled him to lay the plan aside, and Mr. Jukes very kindly took his place. We were greatly indebted to him for much kind and effective service rendered to us on the way.

In Vonizongo we rested a day to complete our preparations, to rearrange our baggage, and write our last letters. On Thursday, July 23d, we fairly entered upon the unknown; and we reached Mojangá in perfect health and comfort on Saturday, August 8th, having spent sixteen days on the way. All our men, ninety-five in number, were with us, suffering from nothing worse than fatigue. And it was amusing to find that, after all that had been said and feared, we had had one of the most safe, easy and enjoyable journeys, performed during our visit to the island.

The country we now visited divides itself into three sections, differing in a marked degree from one another. The first section includes the inhabited country among the hills: Noman’s land occupies the middle position; and the Sákaláva plains, as far as the sea, take the third.

The first section of our journey carried us along four broad terraces, of which three mark very decided falls of the ground towards the sea. At the same time our course led us, not directly to the most abrupt descent of the ground, viz. toward the west; but obliquely along the descent, and over a larger space of ground. This is the reason why we found the journey so easy and pleasant.

While travelling on Thursday, July 21, through Vonizongo, we followed the track we had already taken, on that pleasant Sunday which we spent in December 1873, with the people of Sambaina. As then, we traversed the high moors beyond Fiháonana, the ground rising higher and higher, till we came abreast of the great ridge of Ambohimanga which here curves toward the east. As before, the south-east wind blew keen and cold over these exposed moors, which lie 4600 feet above the sea. We descended over the edge of the ridge, seven hundred feet: and came into North Vonizongo, a long level valley, between two pleasant lines of hills and drained by the river Andránobe. On the left we had the noble ridge of Ambóhidambínana, with a large village Ambohizáfy at its foot. Other small villages are near. Proceeding due north, we came upon a curious bend of the Andranobe (3880 feet), and crossed that river twice. The people informed us that it rises on the north side of Andringitra and east of Lohavóhitra: it passes through the populous valleys near Ambóhitrólona, with their numerous churches; rounding the promontory of Ambohimanga, it enters north Vonizongo; and having watered that valley for many miles, passes through the western line of hills and falls into the Ikopa. We have ourselves seen the greater part of this course. Passing a few villages beyond this bend of the river we came to Ambohitromby, where our men had their morning meal. We ourselves had tiffin in a private house: and the good people took the opportunity of seeking light on a variety of outside Biblical questions which trouble the Malagasy mind. We did our best to explain them: and everything would have gone well, if the long strings of venerable soot hanging from the roof had not diverted themselves by dropping contributions into our rice and tea. A pleasant and easy journey during the afternoon, brought us early to the village of Ankazobe (3830 feet). With fourteen houses, surrounded by deep fosses and high cactus hedges, full of dust and pigs, a chapel with a falling wall, clumsy window-frames and no windows, it was not a first-rate place of accommodation either for ourselves or our men. We managed however: though the night was very cold.

Next day we continued along North Vonizongo, and sent our baggage direct to Maháridaza, a few miles distant, where we were to sleep. We ourselves turned aside to climb the lofty ridge of Angavo (4880 feet), which promised numerous and valuable observations. We had a long and heavy climb, but were amply repaid by the prospect we obtained. It was no scene of beauty that spread around us: we looked upon a treeless, empty wilderness: the only population was in the long valley up which we had come. The whole district is within the region of the sedimentary clay: the valleys have been scored out of it by water: and naturally the clay hills are of one height. Looking over the eastern ridge in the direction of the Anátivolo, we could not discern one prominent hill: all the summits were of uniform height. To the west it was the same. The only exception was in portions of ridges like the Angavo on which we stood. This was a grand mass of gneiss; and the bluff at its northern end is a lofty perpendicular precipice, one of the finest rocks we have seen in the country. North of Angavo, the next ridge is unbroken, the valley of North Vonizongo is completely shut in; part of the waters have escaped down the Andránobe on the south-west: the remainder have swirled round the precipice at the head of the ridge, have cut out a beautiful hollow in the northern hills and have escaped along the west side of Angavo, down what is now the valley of the River Antrobo. The ridge itself and others parallel with it trend off to the south-west. To the south Lohavohitra and Tsi-áfa-balála were conspicuous points: and to the north we fixed the position of several prominent hills, near which we subsequently passed. Descending the Angavo ridge on its western side, we crossed the Antrobo, and as we went along saluted the inhabitants of Antándrokomby, a village of forty houses, who came out to meet us. The precipice of Angavo overhangs this village and it looked grand indeed, as we passed close to its foot.

Maharidaza we found to be a village of forty-two houses; very dirty and with countless herds of swine. The people were very ignorant but very willing. Some of them had never seen a person write, until Mrs. Pillans showed them how it was done and what meaning it had. It reminded me of the early days of Raiatea, when John Williams, to the astonishment of his people, used “to make chips talk.” They have had but little attention paid to their wants, and although there are chapels all up the valley to this point, the means of instruction at their command have been very scanty. Now however that the organisation of the Imerina Mission has been extended, Mr. Stribling will probably give regular superintendence to all these churches. With them and their neighbours the ordinary population of Northern Imerina in this direction comes to an end.

On Saturday we had a short journey. Our course lay up the inner bend of the long valley, and then we climbed over the ridge by the pass of Ambohimena (4800 feet): and on the hill to the west we took several useful observations. Nowhere did we see signs of upheaval in the latest and existing stage of things. The entire country was sedimentary clay, which had buried and enveloped the gneiss ridges and boulders of an earlier time, and was now cut and scored to great depths by the action of water.

To the east and west the tops of the hills were of the same height. To the north the clay had given way. The red hill of Ambohimena and the ridge to which it belongs is the edge of the Vonizongo terrace. On the north side the ground begins rapidly to fall. And we pass down two or three long stairs before we reach Noman’s Land; the total fall in which, over a length of sixty miles is 1700 feet. The fall was patent to the eye, and it showed itself in two parallel valleys, divided by a remarkable line of conical hills. In less than three hours we reached Kinajy (3490).

The town of KINAJY is the first of a series of military stations, five in number, in the direction of the Sakalava country, and along the line of easiest access. It is the guard and gate of the north-west road into Imerina. Each of these towns has its commander, its government house, and its garrison. Each is at the same time a great cattle post; and immense herds, belonging to men high in authority in Imerina, are fed and tended in their neighbourhood. The kraals in which they are kept are very large. The town consists of sixty-eight houses, and is placed on a spur of the hills, having many deep gullies on its northern side. On the south it has a double gateway: and each gate can be closed both with poles and stones. The pigs as usual were multitudinous. But the chapel was a clean little building, neatly fitted with mats, and the Governor and his people willingly allowed us to occupy it. We spent a most pleasant Sunday with them. The building was well filled both morning and afternoon: the congregation included several respectable Hova families, dressed with great neatness: and as Mr. Jukes had not yet overtaken us, we were glad to find that we had in our camp two native preachers, who could speak well and to whom the people listened with pleasure. All day long we were receiving applications for books, especially the new lesson-book: the young people were delighted to practise the new tunes and hymns; and I had a large number of patients suffering from feverish colds.

We spent the next three days in completing our journey through the Hova stations; and found the country very easy to traverse. The moment we left Kinajy, the ground began to fall. We crossed a fine valley to the north; and at an opening between two conical hills, came upon a little winding river, the Mánankázo, “that which has wood,” a truly descriptive name, when in the midst of this dry, clay country, the only bushes and trees were to be found in the ravine of the stream. The river rises in the hills near Vohilena, to the north of the Anátivolo. On the bank and along the roots of the hills the grass was truly beautiful: much of it was in vast tufts, very tall, tinted with pink and purple; another kind was a strong, reedy grass: and a third was crowned with a handsome white feather, soft as down. Passing to the eastward over the shoulder of these rounded hills, we came into a second valley, and found ourselves between high parallel gneiss ranges, with a rough and rocky edge. A stream of clear water came out of the eastern hills, called the Firingáláva: and we crossed many streamlets rushing down to join it.

We took our lunch at AMBOHINORINA, the second of these garrison towns, with fifty houses and a clay chapel: duly enclosed by a ditch, wall, and gates. Four miles north was a deep basin, which ended in a ravine down which the river ran. Here the grass was on fire, and we had to run the gauntlet: then we climbed the ridge to a higher level, and passed between two noble mountains, Sáháfásika, on the west, four miles in length; and Ambohibe on the right. Both these mountains we had duly noted from Angavo: and the double head of the latter, made it a conspicuous object for many miles. We spent the night at AMPOTAKA (2490), a dirty town of thirty houses, with an immense cattle fold and fine herds that filled it. Beyond Ampotaka, we mounted high ridges, which gave us excellent observing stations, but over which the east wind was sweeping with violence. We looked down at one point upon deep valleys, and passed along the upper edge of a fine waterfall. The hills were very fine in all directions and the scenery was truly picturesque. We now descended into the valley of the Máhamókamita, “that which makes musquitoes to cross,” which passes clean through the western ridge. The river comes from the moor on the south-east; it winds much through the clay, into which it has cut deep, and in the middle of the glen into which we descended it falls in a fine cascade over a reef of hard rocks. All through the glen the scenery was bold and pleasing. We came out into an open and level basin, in the centre of which was the town of MANGASOAVINA (2160).

This was a pleasant town of eighty houses, enclosing a rova and stockade: with abundance of cattle, pigs and fowls. The people were exceedingly intelligent and we found them hospitable and kind. The basin in which it stands is eight miles across; the land is grassy and level: several villages were in sight: and we judged that altogether there were four hundred houses in the town and neighbourhood. A fine gneiss hill Andriba, formed its northern boundary: and when we had rounded it, we found beyond a second basin, containing fine clumps of the rofia palm, and a few travellers’ trees. It was a charming spot, with small villages and rice cultivation. The basin was crossed by the river Kámolándi, which like the Máhamókamita, drains the eastern moors and passes to the west into the Ikopa. Half a mile beyond the river was the town of MALATSY (2140), the fifth and last of these garrison towns. The town has sixty houses; on the slopes there may be some ninety more; and about a hundred others scattered about the valley. Near the centre of the valley is a Sakaláva village, the people of which were greatly interested in my photographing, when I endeavoured to take successively pictures of the Andriba Hill and of the Rofia palms. Here once more the grass was on fire and the roaring flames passed within a short distance of our position. We secured valuable additions to our series of observations and carried our stations onward into the districts we have yet to traverse.

The religious and social condition of these five towns was a matter of serious concern to us all. The populations are not numerous: they are exiled: they are isolated. But they are important in themselves; and they have an important relation to the communities still beyond them. They are easy of access. They lie along the valleys at intervals of from six to ten miles, and small clumps of houses are found in their neighbourhood. East and west the country seemed entirely empty. No English missionary had visited them, till we went along the line. Mr. Matthews, their nearest neighbour, had been too occupied with the pressing work of his own district to see them personally: but he had several times sent a colporteur among them with books and Scriptures. The only other help they have received is from Hova officers and soldiers and their families, who have passed by them on their journeys northward or when they have come to settle on public duty in their midst. Naturally therefore we found their condition backward and needing much attention from Christian people.

Kinajy contains some active Christians, and the little chapel is not only well kept, but is usually well filled. There are sixteen church members in the community: many could read: four could write; and there was an earnest and persevering demand for books, which we were glad to supply. Ambohinorina has a little clay chapel: no school: scarcely one person able to spell out a few words. Yet they were most hearty in their hospitality and they seemed eager to learn. Ampotoka has a little chapel of reeds and mud. Two could read. A few knew the alphabet. There was not a Bible in the village; there was however one Testament. Altogether the people were very dark.

Mangasoavina was much more advanced. There were twenty who could read: many more knew their letters. Sixteen were baptized and form the church. They have one service on the Sabbath and one hundred and fifty people attend. They have two pastors.

The people were anxious to have a service during the evening of our stay; and Mr. Jukes gladly assented to their request. My colleague, Mr. Pillans, has given an interesting account of this little conference at which he was present. In going into the governor’s house where the people had assembled, he passed through the kitchen, where a fire was burning on the floor filling the house with smoke. In an inner room were thirty or forty people seated on the floor. In the midst stood a native lamp, with a thick wick; and a little girl fed the lamp from time to time by dipping a stick into a lump of grease and stripping it into the lamp with her fingers. The light was sufficient to make darkness visible: but scarcely enough to enable Mr. Jukes, though down on his knees, to read the texts to which his enquiring companions continually referred him. “We were anxious to learn what kind of teaching these people received, and enquired what the pastors taught. ‘To do no evil’ (they said) ‘and to love one another.’ ‘But what do they teach about Christ?’ ‘To observe his laws.’ ‘What do they teach about Christ himself?’ ‘That he was a substitute for the guilty.’ ‘What about the Holy Spirit?’ One said it was a difficult subject.—They had many questions to ask about the Bible and particular texts: some of which reminded us of questions which have occupied both learned and unlearned at home. ‘Who was Melchizedek?’ ‘Who wrote the Epistle to the Hebrews?’ ‘Why did Christ call himself the Son of man?’ ‘What is the meaning of the parable of the tares?’ and so on. The wife of one of the pastors, a daughter of the governor, took a leading part in this conversation. She seemed a most intelligent woman and an eager inquirer. All the people expressed themselves as most grateful for our visit and urged their need of help from the Imerina Mission. Mr. Jukes suggested that they should unite with their neighbours in the villages around and get a teacher from Imerina. They could easily support him and he would have a good sphere of labour.” They should also enjoy occasional visits from the missionaries in Vonizongo. The distance is not great: the influence and sympathy of an Englishman go very far with our native converts and encourage them much: and the assurance that they were known and watched and cared for by their Imerina friends would prove an invaluable stimulus to their improvement.

Beyond Malatsy came the second distinct section of our journey, a portion of the Noman’s Land of Madagascar. It took us two days to cross it. It is usually termed “the desert;” but that name is scarcely applicable to a land full of valleys, small streams of clear, fresh water, and chains of hills covered in part with wood. It is scarcely applicable to a region in the midst of which we found the river Ikopa, a fine broad stream, falling over huge rocks in noble cataracts and watering a thousand fair islands, that stud its bosom with bright and living green. The region is doubtless unpeopled: we saw not a hut on our line of march, not a blade of rice, not a yard of cultivation. It was interesting to us to meet this district once more. We have come upon it in the South; in the East; away in the West; and now in two places in the North. It is easily accounted for as the border land between the Coast tribes and the Hovas of Imerina and Betsileo, between whom till recent times there was perpetual feud; and therefore not to be cultivated with any hope of profit. It seems to form a complete ring round the central provinces: and it leaves the sea-coast a poor, ill-peopled district indeed.

Our bearers made elaborate preparations for crossing this region of “the unknown.” They spent half a day in pounding and husking rice; in eating hearty meals; and in sharpening their numerous spears. With a view to prevent the loss of stragglers, who might be sick or footsore, we arranged to march in military order: and while my colleague led the little column, Mr. Jukes and I agreed to bring up the rear. The announcement that we would do so, gave the liveliest satisfaction: and when we allowed Mr. Jukes’s empty rifle to be strapped outside his baggage as a warning to evil-minded persons, there stole over the countenances of our friends an expression of serenity and peace truly refreshing to behold. The Malagasy as a rule have immense faith in an empty gun, even though they have no powder near.

We left Malatsy early on Thursday, July 30th. The need of our precautions against straggling was soon seen. Within the first quarter of an hour of our march, seven men lagged behind for no solid reason whatever. But we whipped them up and kept them to their duty: and we reached the resting-place within a quarter of an hour of my colleague’s arrival. On two subsequent occasions we picked up a poor fellow suffering from fever, and thoroughly unable to manage his load. His companions readily shared it or carried it in turn; and we were able to bring the invalids safely in. Had we left them, it is certain that they would have travelled for miles in perfect loneliness and at the best would have arrived long after ourselves. It is these unhappy stragglers who alone are exposed to real danger.

We had a most pleasant march through the solitudes of this “lone land.” Our course lay up long valleys, over first one pass and then another; or over hard clay ridges, sprinkled with quartz gravel, and then along some clear stream, bordered with fresh, green wood. The valleys were simple and open and very green. The rofia palm grew more abundant: there were varieties of the acacia with their pinnate leaves; with a few specimens of the bamboo palm; and of the _dábo_, a coarse fig tree. The bamboo cane was common, with its tall stalk, from fifteen to twenty feet high, and its soft, white feather at the crown; there was the wild citron also. Everywhere the grass was strong and full of beauty. All the streams too had cut their way down to the rock. The eye could see that the ground was falling rapidly: we were continually descending the slopes of hills: the gullies in the red clay were deep and numerous: nowhere was the ground level, till we reached the rock.

Our first halt was by a pretty stream, under the Pass of Marókolohy. The men spread themselves out along the water and soon had their little fires blazing and the rice boiling in their iron pots and tin saucepans. We ourselves rested under a tree: and a small supply of English stores on this and similar journeys, tins of soup and meat and vegetables, good cocoa and first-rate tea, rendered us independent of surrounding circumstances and satisfied our English tastes. The ridge behind us was bold and high. When we climbed to the summit, we travelled some distance along the crest and found an excellent station for observations. Crossing a second ridge called Kalomainty, we descended into a green valley with a stream of water. At the north end of the valley the dried grass was blazing furiously, under the strong wind and it was not easy to avoid the flames. More than once our men had to run for it, and but for the hardness of their feet would have suffered from the hot ashes and stones on which they trod. Crossing a third ridge, we passed down a rocky valley and entered a piece of country, like an English park, well watered by the River Andránobé. All day the loneliness was most complete. Not a bird started from the brake, not an animal appeared in the wood. The silence was intense and Nature was here in complete wildness: for untold ages has she had her will: and calm, still beauty is the result. We had only one trouble, a plague of flies. We were followed by swarms of creatures with the look of a fly, but with the power of biting and stinging like a musquito. They settled everywhere, on the hands, the neck, the face: and unless soon driven off, inflicted an irritating bite. The men suffered from them as much as ourselves. Very strangely they disappeared at sunset and only a few followed us next day. It was just at sundown that we crossed the shoulder of a hill between two bends of the Andranobe, and encamped on its western arm under a fine wooded hill.

We pitched our tents upon a terrace which overhangs the stream: the men lit their fires, ten in number, on the sandy bed, where they resolved to sleep. And it added to the charm of our position, that as the moon rose full behind us the whole body of our bearers gathered together for evening prayers: sang with spirit their plaintive Malagasy hymns, said a hearty Amen to the words of the 91st Psalm: and cast themselves on the protection of that Saviour, to whom (they said explicitly) they have found it good to pray. Let none say that in this prosaic age, the days of romance have passed away. To me the simple realities of life often bring scenes as romantic as any which fiction can pourtray.

The following morning while the baggage was being packed, we breakfasted by the light of a brilliant moon, and recommenced our march. The men were in good spirits, though stiff after their _al-fresco_ sleep. We soon traversed a natural park, full of beauty, spread out for miles, and waiting for a master. We again followed for a space the rocky valley of the Andranobe: and just at sunrise came upon the most charming scene which we had beheld in all our journey. We had reached the bottom of the hill country: and the plain of Ménaváva lay stretched before us away to the distant horizon. The River Ikopa was turning toward us from round a rocky hill four hundred yards broad, its bed for miles very rocky, a hundred green islands rising from its bosom, clothed with wood, while the rushing water fell in cataracts of foam over a reef of rocks which completely covered the stream. The cataracts reminded me of those of the River Máveligunga in the middle of the island of Ceylon. The islands, rocks and rapids were our companions for several miles, to Nosifito, where “seven islands” form a striking group in the river.

We now turned a little inland; crossed a small stream, the Andranobe-vava, and came upon a region of wild disorder. The gneiss strata were tilted perpendicular. Hills of quartz, gneiss, and clay were thrown up, made of broken fragments of primitive rock. The boulders were countless: the country was covered with them, and many were of enormous size. They were rounded, ground, water-worn: multitudes were half-buried in the clay. The reason was simple. We were travelling over the surface of the drift and debris of the higher districts. The present Ikopa indicates the line of valley down which for many ages the drainage of Imerina has poured; and we had reached the point at the bottom of the hills at which the material brought down by the waters has been deposited upon the plains. It was not the fact of that deposit which surprised us. It was the extent to which it had been carried. We saw that mighty forces had been at work; we saw the results of enormous floods, of the rending of barriers and outpouring of lakes, everywhere stamped upon this wide-spread scene of ruin. We were nearly four hours traversing it, in a hot sun: not a stream crossed our path, and our men suffered much from thirst.

At last we reached a beautiful glen, on the north edge of the drift, down which was flowing a stream of the purest water. The men were wild with delight; they just flung down their burdens; rushed pell-mell into the stream; and drank and bathed and revelled in the water. The fires were soon blazing and the cooking-pots well occupied. We did not need to hurry them, as we were near our destination: and a short run of five miles brought us to the town of Mevatanána, which we reached safe and well.

With MEVATANÁNA, we were in the SAKALAVA country, and continued through it to the sea. This was the third principal section of our journey. We found it well-defined; the granite hills and their long spurs forming an inner boundary to its broad and fertile plains. It was everywhere beautifully green. Warm in climate, it gave us back the fan-palm, the tamarind, the mangoe and the plantain as strong, beautiful and fruitful trees. The grass was rich for the many herds of cattle: the enclosed basins and undulating plains seemed capable of producing roots, vegetables, rice and fruit. But the population is thin and scattered: the Sakalava villages consist of ten, fifteen, twenty houses; and they are few and far between. We found that there are twelve churches in the district; the six most important of these are in six towns, garrisoned by Hovas, all of which we visited except one. Only in one of these churches are there Sakalavas. That people have as yet scarcely been touched by the gospel: it is to the Hovas and their surroundings it is almost entirely confined. Everywhere we were heartily welcomed. The people had heard of our coming and had looked for us long. Presents were showered upon us, including oxen, turkeys, geese, fowls, eggs and milk: our congregations were very large: our men were happy.

MEVATANANA justifies its name which means “an excellent site for a city.” It stands on a spur of that inner ridge of clay through which the Ikopa has cut its way: and has deep ravines on three sides. The town is 240 feet above the sea level: the river is 150 feet. The town contains 168 houses, of which 80 are within the stockade. The governor’s house is in a broad open square: close to which are the principal shops for cloth, meat, vegetables and fruit. The town occupies an admirable position in relation to the country generally. It stands on the edge of the hill districts and of the fertile plains: it is two miles from the east bank of the river: it is the point up to which the river is navigable by canoes. It is a good stopping station for all travellers from the coast; and the first resting-place to others journeying from the Capital. It is also the edge of the population. To the east and south the country is empty. Across the river to the west the district contains a few Sakaláva villages of three, five, seven houses at long intervals. On the north at moderate intervals are the six garrison towns in line, which end with the port and harbour of Mojangá. A considerable number of the inhabitants of the town are the Hova garrison from Imerina.

The people gave us a hearty welcome. We occupied the chapel, outside the stockade, on the edge of the ravine: and weary with our wilderness journey were glad to secure a long and refreshing sleep. Surveying, photographing, looking round, talking with the shopkeepers, talking with the Governor of the town and the pastor of the church, writing journals, making sketch-maps, and idling generally, made up a quiet, pleasant Saturday: though our wild friend, the south-east wind, did not forget us, but blew hard all day, raised great clouds of dust, drove away plenty of malaria, and made himself generally disagreeable.

In the evening we dined with the Governor. He is an old gentleman, who ought long since to have been put on pension. But he and his nice, old wife, were hospitable and kind. The feast was simple and truly primitive. Roast fowls, boiled rice, abundance of gravy and bowls of milk are no bad provision for hungry men. The Governor and his lady sat at table with us, as did three of his officers. We brought our knives and spoons with us: but the three officers ate out of a common plate with a horn spoon each. Three other officers sat on the ground and against the wall: while the cook, who superintended the primitive light, and evidently had great faith in the usefulness of his fingers, freely joined in the conversation and gave his opinion upon various matters without the slightest hesitation. Amongst other questions discussed, was the important topic of our journey onward. Was it better to go by water or by land: if the latter, was the journey long or difficult: if the former, could we get canoes here? We had tried in vain to get clear light upon these points, from the captains of our baggage, during the day: so we asked the opinion of our friends to-night. After serious discussion among themselves, the Governor and his officers delivered the following judgment. “If you take boats, that is good. If you go by land, that is good; because you prefer it. What you like, we like. What pleases you, satisfies us.”

We spent a pleasant Sunday at Mevatanâna. The little chapel was well filled: our own bearers making a considerable addition to the usual congregation. Some twenty of them presented to the native pastor their tickets of membership in churches in the Capital and joined with the local members and ourselves at the communion of the Lord’s Supper. Mr. Jukes, who speaks Malagasy well, preached an excellent sermon, from the text, “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son” &c., which was listened to with deep attention. We had a second service in the afternoon, with sermons from our two chaplains. But we were not impressed with the spiritual life of the people. They seemed very ignorant, very dead. There was no leader among them; no man of real, spiritual force, who by his example and his teachings could stimulate his brethren. The native pastor could scarcely read and seemed in other ways an ignorant man. I do not think there was any school in the town. We could not but regret that things were so backward.

At times it has been thought and said, that by the route of the Ikopa, boats and steamers could reach to within sixty miles of the Capital. The student of the Map, which represents our route, can form his own opinion on this subject. Near the sea at certain seasons there are shallows. All about Mevatanána and above the influence of the tides, the shallows are more numerous and more formidable. Above Mevatanána the river is full of rocks and islands. And above Nósifito come the great cataracts, from which upward to the Fárahántsana, the entire bed of the Ikopa, so far as we have heard, is a series of rocky rapids. Now Mevatanána is one hundred and fifty miles from the Capital: and as we shall see is ninety miles from Mojangá. From Mevatanána at least all the upward trade must go by land.

We now hired canoes for our whole party. We could only find three, though they were long and spacious: and I felt rather nervous. We had to stow in them all our baggage and just a hundred men. One canoe was about forty feet long and over three feet broad. It carried forty-three men. But we were tight-packed: and it required great care to change the rowers from time to time, while the canoes were still afloat. Our trip down the stream was delightful. We left the bank at ten o’clock, the men in high spirits at having nothing to carry. The river was about three hundred yards broad; and was shallow and full of islands. Three miles onward, the islands ceased and we had two long reaches to the north and west. The banks were fair and green: profusely covered with the bamboo cane, with its long lithe stalk and its white feathery flower. We soon began to see crocodiles; and were astonished at their numbers. They appeared in groups; they lay on the banks in the hot sun, lazy and asleep: and when awoke by the shouts of our men, quietly went and hid themselves beneath the water. There was one enormous creature, full twenty feet long, with a huge body and vast jaws. These reptiles were visible all the way down. After resting for tiffin at the village of Ambinány under a noble tamarind tree, we pitched our camp upon a broad bank of sand. There was abundance of drift wood lying about, and the men lit large fires and maintained them all night to keep the crocodiles away.

The spot which we had reached was to us full of interest. Opposite to the camp was the BETSIBOKA river coming up from the south-east, and here the two rivers joined together. The Ikopa is a quarter of a mile broad: the Betsiboka is much broader and in the rainy season comes down in great flood, so as to throw the Ikopa waters far into the western bank and produce the broad sand on which we stood. High up in the moors of Imérina and among the roots of Angávokely, we had seen the fountains of numerous streams from which these rivers take their rise. At Ambatomena and Anjozorobe we had seen the Mananára, the Zábo, the Manánta: near Mantasóa we had seen the beginnings of the Ikopa and the Varáhina: at Andramásina and under Ankárat, the Sisaony, the Andromba, the Katsáoka and many more: all the waters of the Anátivolo, of Lohavohitra and North Vonizongo find their way hither; and now the united streams, keeping the name of the larger, the Betsiboka, will bear us to the sea.

Four miles up the stream of the Betsiboka and on its eastern bank is the flourishing town of AMPARIHIBE “the town of the big lakes.” We could see it plainly from our camp, standing out prominently on its clay hill. Mr. Jukes had paid it a visit by land and told us about its people. The town is well built: its people are unusually intelligent and amiable. On Sunday afternoon when he arrived, they gave him a most hearty reception. This morning at the monthly missionary meeting, five hundred people were present. He gave them our salutations and preached to them; and then for two hours, answered their questions about the Word of God. He found them most anxious to learn, most anxious to do right. The service concluded, they all walked down to the river with him and said good-bye. They loaded him with presents, and sent us most kind messages. They expressed the deepest regret that they had not met us: and they begged Mr. Jukes on his return to spend a Sunday with them.

We were away early on Tuesday, and found the river broader, but winding and somewhat more shallow. The banks were beautiful with their light green: and here and there the trees were large. But nothing struck us like the crocodiles. They were more numerous than ever. We seemed never to lose sight of them: here there was a group of five, there of eight, six and ten. Sometimes they rose to twenty: and on one occasion on a broad spit of sand, we found no less than forty sleeping in the sun. When we took to counting this was the result: in the first hour we counted a hundred and five; in the next half hour, we saw one hundred and two. During the four days of our river trip, we must have seen not less than sixteen hundred crocodiles: indeed my opinion is that the number rose to two thousand. Some were babies, from twelve to eighteen inches long: others were strong and active; a few were old, of enormous size and very sluggish. The skins of the last were course and rough; and the studs and knobs along the back stood out prominently. Their colour was a brown yellow. I could not detect among them the _gayál_ or fish-alligator, so common in the Ganges; they all seemed to belong to the _magars_ or true crocodiles. The natives of the district told us that the river swarms with fish, which the crocodiles eat; they lie in wait to seize the cattle, when they come down to drink; and now and then some poor Sakaláve, crossing the river, half tipsy, in a frail canoe, falls into the water and is never seen again. A crocodile moves slowly on land, with his short legs and heavy tail: but once in the water, he is master, and his tail is an engine of great power.

Our course to-day was about north-west: and our speed down the stream about four miles an hour. The flow of the water was strong and in our favour. We were leaving behind us and on the south-east, a fine, lofty ridge, with a very conspicuous gap. The hill on the south of the gap is Namakía; and close to it is Tóngodrahóds. M. Grandidier, travelling from the coast by land, passed close to these points, and has inserted them in his map. Toward the north-west we were gradually approaching another ridge, the bearings of which, as of the former, we had taken at Mévatanána.

Early in the afternoon we passed a little Sakalava village, named Kárambíly; and at 3.25, reached the mouth of a small stream, the Kámona, near to which we knew was the important town of TRABONJY. We found it five miles inland, in an open basin upon a low hill. The hill was prettily covered by mango trees, in full flower, by fine tamarinds, and numerous palmettoes, the fruit of which is unhappily used to distil rum. The Sakalava town is on the west side of the Hova town. It contains a very large house, the residence of the princess and head of the tribe: and numerous simple dwellings of the Sakalava people. To us they had a singular appearance: they looked like huge bird-cages, being formed of split bamboo and reeds, and quite open to the winds. The houses of the Hova town are unusually large and built in rows with wide streets between: they are formed of wood, reeds and palmetto leaves. The people were on the look-out for us, met us in a crowd at the city-gate; and manifested unmistakeable pleasure at our arrival.

From the intelligent and able governor of Trabónjy, Ráinisóamánana, as well as from his intelligent wife and daughters, we received a peculiarly kind welcome. They could not make enough of us: and we had just to tear ourselves away, if we would reach our port in good time for the steamer that was to bear us home. With the governor we had abundance of serious talk on many things. He saw the importance of our visit; set before us the condition of the churches of the district; and sent an earnest request to the Directors that an English Missionary might be appointed to instruct and guide them. Both he and his people sent the most grateful and affectionate salutations to the Society which has so long been the friend of the Malagasy people.

We were invited to visit the family. We found that their house, built in Sakalava shape, was spacious and the roof was high. It contained but one room the portions of which were parted from one another by screens of cloth. On one side stood a table, covered with bright crockery, water decanters and glasses. Above it were hung two engravings of Queen Victoria and the late Emperor Napoleon. A large wardrobe contained, among other things, numerous bottles of medicine. One of the governor’s sons has been a medical student with Dr. Davidson and is exercising his gifts among his people here. The governor told us that the church in Trabónjy contains 250 members: that fifty of these are Sakalavas and 150 Sakalavas profess to be Christians and worship with the congregation. All the Sakalavas of this district, friendly to the Hova Government, burnt their idols, when those of Imerina were consumed. The independent Sakalavas worship their ancestors and keep to their idols still. There are two hundred houses in Trabonjy: in the neighbourhood there are quite two hundred more. And the entire basin must contain two thousand people.

Embarking once more in our canoes, we made steady progress down the river. At five o’clock we came to a fine bend in the river, under a wooded ridge; and turning the boats’ noses in shore we disturbed a “happy family” of twelve crocodiles, who had retired to rest for the night; and took possession of the sand-bank from which they were dislodged. Again we pitched our tents upon the upper terrace, made large fires, and slept well.

We had now reached the ridge, the bearings of which we had taken from Mevatanána. It was very broad, and the river wound its way through, having high banks on either side. These banks were covered with dark thick woods. The air was warm; the vegetation luxuriant. Here and there we passed long gardens of plantains, the plantations of the Sakalavas. The palms were full grown and had broad leafy fronds. We saw too abundance of birds. Wild ducks rose in flocks as we passed on: the flamingo, with his pale purple legs, rose over our heads: the heron was disturbed, while fishing in the stream: white storks were numerous: there were a few wild pigeons: and one little humming-bird kept flitting in and out of the jungle, curious yet afraid.

Early to-day we met the tides, some fifty miles from the sea. The marks on the banks did not indicate a high rise of the water, probably from the fact that the land itself has not yet reached the sea level. During the afternoon we pulled steadily along a fine reach of the river for several miles: its direction was nearly north: and some fine hills were in sight, under one of which, with a double head, was the town of MAHABO. At sunset we passed along the east side of a large island; wood and jungle were rich; the mud banks were evidently fertile: the mangrove was thick with its matted roots: and again we saw vast quantities of the _Via_, the great Arum lily, which we had admired so much on the east coast a year ago. At the north end of this reach we turned eastward into a narrow stream for five miles, and at eight o’clock, were landed in the mud at the important town of Marovoay.

MAROVOAY contains five thousand people and consists of two towns, the Hova settlement and stockade on the hill, and the trading town on the river bank. The latter is extremely dirty: it is full of hides and offal, sweltering in the burning sun; and is reputed to be extremely unhealthy. How can it be otherwise? A large number of Hindu merchants reside in the town; who responded heartily to salutations in Hindustani, and were greatly surprised and interested to meet an old Calcutta-walla in this out-of-the-way corner of the world. We observed with regret the large number of pure Africans in the town, many of them quite young. The Hova houses within the stockade are large and numerous; the chapel is a spacious building, and near the chapel and the gate of the stockade are two noble tamarind trees.

The governor is a most intelligent man and evidently has the interest of his people thoroughly at heart. He and his wife were extremely thoughtful and kind. In the morning, before we went round the town, he and his officers and their families, came in force, with the earnest request that we would stay over the Sunday at Marovoay and help them. They pleaded eloquently also that they might have an English Missionary for themselves. It was hard to refuse. Their arguments were ingenious: they parried objections most skilfully and turned them against ourselves. But we were pledged to the people of Mojangá. For our own purpose, as well as to keep faith with the native churches, it was necessary that we should spend our last Sabbath in the island with them. And so, though with deep reluctance, we were compelled to go forward. Mr. Jukes promised, that if it were practicable, he would spend a Sunday with them, on his return. Paying off our canoes, we secured two boats, fit to cross Bémbatóka Bay, in which strong winds and high seas are often met with. At three o’clock, the kind governor and all his people escorted us in procession to the river side, with drums beating, fifes playing, banners flying. We embarked in our little vessels, in presence of the entire town: and hoisting sail, and giving the governor three cheers, we started on our way.

Our dhows were no great things for a sea voyage. They were open boats: thirty feet long, eight feet broad and six feet deep. We stowed our larger baggage and several men in one, and placed our personal effects and ourselves, with some ten men, in the other. There was a quarter deck aft, seven feet by eight. Altogether our space was limited. The sails were of the usual Eastern type, the lateen sails of Malta and the Levant. We managed to boil a kettle and get some tea, while going out of our little river and sailing along the still waters of the Betsiboka; but it was an amusing affair. Then it grew dark and we settled down for the night. Mrs. Pillans buried herself in rugs in the hold, on the top of the baggage. Mr. Jukes, my colleague and myself occupied the quarter-deck in parallel lines, which like those of longitude, converged on the helmsman at our feet. A mattress beneath us softened the boards and plenty of plaids and rugs kept us warm: while, like the Egyptians of old and the Samoans of modern days, we made a pillow of the quarter-deck rail, which had but little down in its composition. The night was lovely: the stars shone brightly and clear. Ere long the wind freshened, though it kept very steady; and the boats flew along the water. Our course was for a while north-west: then due west, which we kept for at least five hours. After a time we slept for very weariness: and at the end of ten hours, were run ashore high and dry, under Mr. Laing’s windows at Mojangá, under a brilliant moon, at three o’clock in the morning.

Our little trip was a truly pleasant one, though we were exceedingly fatigued all the next day. We could not but feel grateful and happy that we had suffered no delay from contrary winds or a rough sea. We were able too, in God’s good providence, to fulfil our purpose of spending a Sunday with our Christian friends and to enjoy that intercourse with them which would make us acquainted with their condition and wants. Our arrival gave them great satisfaction, and they showed every kindness both to ourselves and our men. Pleasant quarters were kindly offered to us in the house of Messrs. Porter, Muir and Laing; by Mr. Angravink, the gentleman in charge of their agency. Our men however were not particularly gratified with the airy houses of the Sákalávas.

The town of MOJANGÁ stands on a long tongue of land, on the north and east side of a vast inlet, called Bembatóka Bay. It is in lat. 15° 42′ 54″ S. and long. 44° 20′ E. The bay is from seventeen to twenty miles deep. It is eight miles across from north to south: and the entrance from the sea is three and a half miles wide. The river Betsiboka enters the bay by two channels on its south-east and east sides, a large island coming in between: and so great is the force with which it has scored out the bay, that near the western entrance, the water is sixty-three fathoms deep. In the centre of the bay a long promontory projects from the northern shore. On this were once situated the town of Bembatoka and the village of Ambátolámpy. Ruins of these places may still be seen: otherwise they have disappeared, and at the present day they are represented by Mojangá, which lies much nearer to the sea, on the north shore of the outer bay. The entrance of this outer bay is guarded by two promontories; that on the south is named Katsépa: that on the north is Amorombáto. These points of land are parts of a long limestone ridge, which here forms the sea-coast of the island. This ridge is capped with the usual red clay: on the Katsepa point it showed itself as two white bands beneath the clay, each about ten feet thick. It runs half a day’s journey, about twelve miles, inland toward the north-east. The district south of the Bay is termed Ambongo: that to the north, in which Mojangá is situated, is called Ibóina. The latter includes all the Hova towns as far as Mevatanána, and the district to the foot of the Namakia ridge. Like other important places of trade Mojangá consists in reality of two separate towns, and has done so for many generations. This fact, so simple and patent to a visitor on the spot, has introduced a curious confusion into descriptions of its history; its one name appearing under two perfectly different forms of spelling. The upper town is on the ridge, and is the stockaded residence of the Hova garrison. The lower town is the trading town, built on the inner side of the promontory and on the north shore of the outer bay. The two places are joined by a broad road running straight up the slope of the hill.

The upper town is laid out with great regularity. It includes the house of the Governor, now old, with thick walls and in need of considerable repair. It has numerous houses of large size for the garrison: and in it are the garrison church and the house in which the Sákalávas have deposited relics of some former king, whom they greatly honour. The palisade of the Hova town is surrounded by a ditch and a platform, and is defended by a number of old English navy guns, 12- and 9-pounders. Below and around the Hova town, the hill is covered richly with wood. Indeed there is quite a forest of tamarind, mango, palm and cocoanut trees, many of which are noble specimens of their class. The talipot-palms also were strong and massive. And there were ten or twelve specimens of the baobab, called in Malagasy, the _Botona_. Of the great baobab I obtained a good photograph: the tree is over sixty feet high: and the trunk near the ground is forty feet in girth.

The lower town extends half a mile along the shore: in the central parts it is five rows of houses deep: at the east end these are thinner. These houses are very light and frail: they have a wooden frame: but the panels are filled in with palmetto leaves, which form a pretty pattern: they are thatched with larger leaves of the cocoanut and palm. They are of course very inflammable and one does not wonder to hear that the town is burnt down nearly once a year. At the west end of the town on a spit of sand in the market, with a vast collection of bullocks’ skulls, bones and remnants: the smell of which was dreadful.

An important element in the lower town is the Hindu and Arab houses, which are employed both as residences for their owners and as safe storehouses for goods. They are built on the Indian pattern: they are of solid material, stone or brick, cemented with lime dug from the hill; they are of two or three stories; have flat roofs and terraces, and contain small rooms. There are about forty of these houses in the town: they have been built by Malagasy workmen, look rough and coarse: and are wholly wanting in the neatness and finish which are given to such houses in Calcutta or Bombay. The town has two mosques: one for the Arab merchants: and one for the Mahomedan traders from Bombay, whose customs doubtless differ in some points from one another. Rival muezzins, morning and evening, summon the faithful to their prayers.

The number of houses amounts to 1327: and the entire population reaches probably to ten thousand. The Hova element is very strong. The Indian adults are about fifty. There are a few Sákalávas in both towns: and the African slaves, universally called by the Malagasy “Mojambikas,” are very numerous. Their skin is very dark: and they have thick lips and curling hair. But they are not pure negroes. They belong to various tribes on the east coast of Africa, who all understand more or less the Swahili language.

The port of Mojangá has long been known to history. The entire districts of Ambóngo and Iboina belonged originally to the Sákalávas tribes. But the Arab traders from East Africa and the Persian Gulf found them out centuries ago: and it was from them that Marco Paolo heard about the island. Several generations back these Arab merchants made themselves strong as advisers of the Sakalava princes; and all last century they had the chief power in their hands. They held the fort on the hill; were masters of the trading settlement. And of course were deeply involved in the slave trade. The high-handed proceedings of the Portuguese fleets, and the later piracies of Captain Kyd and his companions had crippled their commerce, but had not destroyed it: and as the Indian trade, after the days of Admiral Watson and the destruction of Saverndrog once more grew secure, the strength of the Arab trade also was renewed. Mojangá was a strong place in 1824: the town was then a mile long; and it contained a considerable population of Arab blood, “whose fathers had been there from time immemorial.” Radáma had cast his eyes on the district and in 1824, he had his first expedition down to the coast. He was seconded with great energy and skill by his brother-in-law and cousin, Rámanétaka; and Mojangá and all its companions fell into his hands. The district rose in rebellion the following year: but it was again subdued, and Rámanétaka was appointed the first governor. The town is said to have been burnt, a thing quite probable; but it must have been rebuilt. It was far more seriously affected by the stoppage of the slave trade, on which Radáma insisted; according to his recent treaties with the English government. Since then, with varying fortunes, it has remained in Hova hands.

With the year 1874 the British India Steam Navigation Company have made an enterprising attempt to increase the trade of Mojangá, by linking it on to their steam lines to Zanzibar and Aden. Having obtained a ten years’ contract with the French government to carry the mails from Zanzibar, through the Comóro Islands to Nósibé, of their own accord they have extended the steamer’s course, without contract, from Nosibe to Mojangá: and during 1874 a visit has been paid to the port once a month. The effort is a most praiseworthy one. It deserves to succeed. Its success would prove a great benefit to the island. But what are its prospects?

Fully developed, the export and import trade of Mojangá should include two distinct elements: the local trade (among the garrison towns and the Sakalávas of the district): and the through trade with the Central Provinces and the Capital, Antanánarivo. In favour of this through trade, is the consideration that the gradients of the country are easy; and were villages planted in line, as they might easily be, at short distances through Noman’s land, the entire line of traffic could be made safe, as well as easy, and the direct connection with Europe would be complete. On the other side it has to be remembered that that direct trade is of moderate value; that the bearers are thoroughly used to the Tamatave road; and that they asked twenty-six shillings a man for the Mojangá trip, as against ten shillings a man for that to Tamatave. The chief element of the outward trade of the island is bullocks and hides; and as sailing ships carry these articles between Port Louis and Tamatave, they are available for bringing the direct imports at cheaper rates of freight than would prevail in the purely steam line from Mojangá.

What then are the prospects of the local trade? Hitherto it has been very poor for three reasons. The Sakalava population in the whole district is not numerous: the people are poor, ignorant and uncivilised: they have few wants: they get fish from the rivers; plantains from their gardens; beef from their flocks and herds: their houses cost them a little labour: a few hides will purchase their clothes: at present they produce little more than they can use: they sell a few hides, a little rice, a little bees’ wax. The Hova officers and garrisons in the district are poor: they live upon the public allowances: they are numerous: they produce very little: the idlers and hangers-on form a little army: what money have they with which to purchase goods? The largest portion of the public allowances consists of food of various kinds: only a certain surplus gathers in the hands of the chief officers: and they are the only traders. This brings up the third difficulty in the way of trade: a difficulty felt all over Madagascar. The number of masters, of various grades, doing nothing, living without pay, and living on what they can squeeze out of slaves and clients below them, is countless. Christian justice is softening down these things; but changes in the laws and life of the people are essential to any great improvement. And even with these changes we must give the people time to adapt themselves to their new circumstances: while vested interests die out and public opinion becomes settled and grows strong.

We spent a most pleasant Sabbath with our friends in Mojangá. In the morning we worshipped with the church in the garrison: in the afternoon, we attended the church in the lower town. We saw a good deal of the fine old governor and his family. And we were specially pleased with the young pastor, Rakótobáo; of whom Sir Bartle Frere spoke so kindly in his letters to the Foreign Office and in his address at Exeter Hall. From the sermons he preached to-day; from his views about church life and discipline; and from the spiritual influence he is exercising over the two congregations here, we judged him worthy of all the commendation he received and even of more. He has only been here eighteen months, and things have greatly improved.

We learned that the ordinary attendance in one of these churches is three hundred: in the other, two hundred and thirty. There are fifty-six members in the two: and all join together in celebrating the communion. They have among them six preachers and six deacons. There are sixty children in the school: of whom thirty can read well. Some thirty adults can read. Six or seven Sakalavas attend worship. In receiving members, they follow the rule prevailing at the Capital of two months’ probation; then the case comes before the whole church. In a similar way, if a member goes astray, he is visited and counsel given him; if unrepentant, he is dealt with by the whole church. In visiting the twelve churches in the district in 1871, the pastor formed schools in them all.

The SAKALAVAS as a people have not yet been reached. In some places as at Trabonjy, a number of them attend worship; but they need to be dealt with very cautiously to prevent their going off altogether. Their regard for Christianity is more a sign of their political relation to the Hovas than a token that the gospel has fairly taken hold of them. Work among the Sakalavas has yet to begin at the beginning.

We asked ourselves whether we should recommend the Board to place an English missionary in this district. Our judgment is that such an appointment is most desirable. We would not urge the Board to enter upon new ground, and commence an entirely new mission. But all the good in the Sihanaka Mission and in this Mojangá district has sprung from our old work; is based upon it; and in order to complete the old, these elements in it should without delay be heartily followed up. We should thus consolidate and strengthen the good already existing; we should gather new fruit from past efforts; and prepare the way for new movements and local extensions by the native churches themselves.

We had hoped to remain in Mojangá for six days. But to our surprise the _Malacca_ came into the bay on Monday morning; and would leave again on Wednesday. We had however only to select the tents and other portions of our travelling gear, which we no longer needed and which we purposed to hand over for the use of the mission. Our baggage for board ship packed into very small compass. We saw the young pastor once more: completed our preparations; and said our farewells to the willing and careful men, who had travelled with us so often and so far. Then the school children sang to us as we went into the boats: and so we quitted the land, in which we had spent a delightful twelvemonth, and a people, among whom the grace of God has wrought great marvels, in the face of a sceptical and unbelieving world.