CHAPTER X. 
DEATH IN AN AFRICAN VILLAGE, — LAMENTATIONS, — THE 
FUNERAL CEREMONIES.—AN AFRICAN CEMETERY, 
Wuart a strange thing is an African funeral! Ina 
town on the banks of the Rembo, called Conaco, where I 
had just arrived in my canoe, a man was very ill. These 
poor savages seemed to be very sorry for him, but did 
not know what to do. If I remember aright, the name 
of that man was Irende. He had been a great warrior 
and a great hunter, but disease had laid him prostrate, 
though he was still a young man. 
The next day a great many people came into the vil- 
lage with their tam-tams, or drums, and different sorts of 
musical instruments. They were to try if they could 
not drive the devil away. With a great deal of trouble 
a few guns had been obtained, and also some powder, in 
order to make more noise. 
In the evening the people entered the hut of Irende 
and began to sing. The drummers had already gone in- 
side and were beating their drums most furiously ; a few 
broken brass kettles added their noise to that of the 
drums; some beat sticks on pieces of wood. In fact, 
every body tried to make all the noise he could. At 
last those who had the guns came and fired them close 
to the ears of the poor fellow, and also near his stom- 
