STORY OF BULBOPHYLLUM BARBIGERUM 255 



and the ' Factory ' a mere name. The agent, his superior 

 officer, was not at all likely to visit a clerk's quarters. This 

 good man belonged to a class very frequent then upon ' the 

 coast.' He had not returned to England, nor wished to do 

 so, since coming out. At a glance he recognised that this 

 was his real native land, and without difficulty he made 

 himself a fellow-countryman of the negroes, living like a 

 caboceer, amidst an undeterminate number of wives, slaves, 

 and children. Very shocking ; but it may be pointed out 

 that such men as this established our colonies or seats of 

 trade in Africa. They had virtues, perhaps, but their vices 

 were more useful. The moral system of the present day 

 would not have answered then. An agent secured his 

 position by marrying a daughter of every chief who might 

 be troublesome. He had no Maxim guns. 



Mr. Blank knew every feeling and superstition of the 

 negroes — that is the point of my reference to his character. 

 And one evening he entered the room just as Boville was 

 hanging up his latest acquisitions, some of which were in 

 flower. Whatever Mr. Blank's business, it fled from his 

 mind on beholding the orchids. 



' Good God ! ' he cried. ' What — what — you are no 

 better than a dead man ! I won't protect you — I can't ! 

 Good God ! What possessed you } ' 



' I don't understand,' said Boville. 



' No, you don't understand ! They send me out the 

 most infernal idiots ' — and then Mr. Blank fell to swearing. 



Boville saw the case was grave somehow. ' Are they 

 poisonous ? ' he asked. 



' Poisonous be — etc. etc. That's the Endua — the holiest 

 of plants ! You'll wish they were poisonous before long ! 

 What a lot ! You didn't get 'em all to-day ^ ' 



' I can destroy them. Only Georgius Rex the Krooman 

 has been into the bush with me.' 



