THE DANCE. 277 



had been gone for years, murmuring to them in a kind 

 of baby language, calling them by their names of love, 

 shaking their right hands, caressing their faces, patting 

 them upon their breasts, embracing them in all ways 

 except with the lips, for the kiss is unknown among the 

 Africans. And so they toy and babble and laugh with 

 one another till the sun turns red, and the air turns 

 dusky, and the giant trees cast deep shadows across 

 the street. Strange perfumes arise from the earth ; 

 fireflies sparkle ; grey parrots come forth from the 

 forest, and fly screaming round intending to roost in 

 the neighbourhood of man. The women bring their 

 husbands the gourd -dish of boiled plantains or bush- 

 yams, made hot with red pepper, seasoned with fish or 

 venison sauce. And when this simple meal is ended, 

 boom ! boom ! goes the big drum ; the sweet reed 

 flute pipes forth ; the girls and lads begin to sing. 

 In a broad clean swept place they gather together, 

 jumping up and down with glee : the young men form 

 in one row, the women in another, and dance in two 

 long lines, retreating and advancing with graceful 

 undulations of their bodies, and arms waving in the 

 air. And now there is a squealing, wailing, unearthly 

 sound, and out of the wood, with a hop, skip, and jump, 

 comes Mumbo Jumbo, a hideous mask on his face and 

 a scourge in his hand. Woe to the wife who would 

 not cook her husband's dinner, or who gave him 

 saucy words ; for Mumbo Jumbo is the censor of female 

 morals. Well the guilty ones know him as they run 

 screaming to their huts. Then again the dance goes 

 on, and if there is a moon it does not cease throughout 

 the night. 



Such is the picturesque part of savage life. But 

 it is not savage life; it merely lies upon the surface 



