i- oS ge 
FROM SAO PAULO DE LOANDA T0 THE CONGO. ° 5 
especially when this is enjoyed together with a cup of 
fragrant coffee, than by the continual glasses of grog, the 
“nips” of brandy, the “gins and bitters,” the “mata- 
bichos,” and “ chin-chins,” which, to react on the deadening. 
senses, have to becontinually increased in alcoholic strength. 
If, as one who has visited most parts of the West African 
Coast, from the Gambia to Mossamedes, and enjoyed 
hospitality from many of the great African trading 
companies, I might give a word of advice to their 
managers in Europe: I would say, “Send out plenty of 
books. Remember that the mind in Africa runs more 
risk of being starved than the body, and that for those to 
whom the wonderful country in which they are residing 
does not itself seem a great book spread open for them to 
read by Mother Nature, the flagging spirits, the fatal 
home-sickness, and the dull depression of the brain are 
best diverted, not by constant sips of spirits, but by bright 
novels, by humorous essays, and by the fairy-tales of 
science that our current’ literature can so readily supply.” 
Then, when the oil-lamp is lit, and the dusky African 
night is chased even from the windows by the bright 
reflections in the glass, the pale and languid European can 
forget the strange weird things outside—the marshes with 
their low, white, poisonous mist, the riotous “ niggers” 
dancing round their fires, streaming and gleaming with 
perspiration, the great night-moths and the uncomely 
bats—in the beautiful creations and merry thoughts of 
our master-minds. In having chosen Kinsembo for the 
text of this disquisition I have not meant to imply that 
the worthy Englishmen there are more inclined to 
alcoholic consolation than elsewhere. Quite the contrary, 
in fact; and I am glad to say that it is for that reason a 
brighter place than many I know of farther north; but as 
it is one of the few great trading settlements that I 
encounter on my way to the Congo, I seize this oppor- 
tunity of making known what, as an old African, I feel 
to be a distinct and easily remedied want amongst the 
Enelish “factories” in West Africa—more books, less 
brandy. 
