156 THE BONDS OF AFRICA 



negresses from the interior, proud police of the 

 Sultan with gorgeous daggers at rest in their 

 belts. 



And in the middle of it all is the American 

 bar and the Transvaal Arms, where German and 

 Spanish ladies greet a wayfarer with a welcome 

 as warm as the soft clove-scented breezes that 

 blow from off the island. There is also a 

 reputationless sort of Japanese pagoda — a soiled 

 page from San Toy. 



And close to all this medley of commerce and 

 eosmopolis, the stately cathedral proclaims the 

 wide-flung strength of the Church of England. 

 Hard by are some old Arab tombstones, monu- 

 ments to the southerly advance of Islam in 

 days when England was burning men at the 

 stake for the sake of the Church. 



Zanzibar, like all Mohammedan towns, is as 

 full of mosques as it is of beggars, but if you have 

 ever been in Cairo you will be vastly disappointed 

 at the temples of Zanzibar. For the Arabs of 

 the island and the ruling house are of the sect 

 of the Abazis, who correspond to the early 

 Nonconformists of our own island. It is true 

 that the mosque at Kunazini is lit up at times 

 by coloured lights, that the tabernacle next to 

 the Thoria Topan House is an imposing structure, 

 that the mosque near the Africa Hotel is re- 

 splendent in white stucco. There is also a large 

 mosque near the Palace to which the Sultan 

 goes on the Feasts of Id-el-Huj and Ramadan. 

 But to compare these with any of the large 

 tabernacles of Islam that grace the lovely city of 

 Cairo, is to compare a Wesleyan chapel with 

 Westminster Abbey. 



Only two or three of the Zanzibar mosques 



