276 THE CALM. 



The air is damp and cold, and the trees and grass are 

 heavy with dew ; but presently the sun begins to 

 shine, the dewdrops fall, heavy and large as drops of 

 rain ; the birds chirp ; the flowers expand their drowsy 

 leaves, and receive the morning calls of butterflies 

 and bees. The forest begins to buzz and hum like a 

 great factory awaking to its work. 



When the sun is high, boys come from the bush 

 with vegetable bottles frothing over with palm wine. 

 The cellar of the African, and his glass and china 

 shop, and his clothing warehouse, are in the trees. In 

 the midst of the village is a kind of shed, a roof sup- 

 ported on bare poles. It is the palaver house, in 

 which at this hour the old men sit, and debate the 

 affairs of state or decide law suits, each orator holding 

 a spear when he is speaking, and planting it in the 

 ground before him as he resumes his seat. Oratory is 

 the African's one fine art : his delivery is fluent ; his 

 harangues, though diffuse, are adorned with phrases 

 of wild poetry. That building is also the club house 

 of the elders, and there, when business is over, they 

 pass the heat of the day, seated on logs which are 

 smooth and shiny from use. At the hour of noon 

 their wives or children bring them palm wine, and 

 present it on their knees, clapping their hands in token 

 of respect. And then all is still : it is the hour of 

 silence and tranquillity ; the hour which the Portuguese 

 call the calm. The sun sits enthroned on the summit 

 of the sky ; its white light is poured upon the earth ; 

 the straw thatch shines like snow. The forest is 

 silent ; all nature sleeps. 



Then down, down, down sinks the sun, and its rays 

 shoot slantwise through the trees. The hunters return, 

 and their friends run out and greet them as if they 



