148 A JOURNEY UP THE RIVER CONGO. 
eroups rise on their slender trunks high above the low 
ereen shrubs, anl crown majestically the long spits of 
white sand that launch themselves boldly into the shining, 
all-reflecting river. 
The Zanzibaris having found a fine fish just caught in 
one of the native basket-work traps, ask permission to 
stop at some sand-bank and cook it. This is accorded, 
and we are soon alongside a long reach of sand, on which 
some Ba-yansi are already seated. Of course our re- 
ception is cordial, and whilst the Zanzibaris are com- 
mencing their cooking I go off to see the native village 
close by, called Mbila. It is a pretty, contented, quiet- 
looking spot, embosomed in great groves of bananas, and 
surrounded by plantations of manioc. At the time I 
enter it, except a few women who are attending to their 
household duties, every one is absent on the beach, 
chaffering with the Zanzibaris, therefore I have it pretty 
much to myself; but my arrival causes much excitement 
among the fowls and dogs, who apparently are frightened 
at my white face, and fly in all directions. The fowls 
cackle and screech, but the dogs are too awestruck to 
make any noise; indeed in this country they never seem 
to have acquired the power of barking. In front of 
several dwellings are the signs of domestic vocations 
being actively carried on. Large jars and other vessels of 
pottery are standing to dry in the sun, and basket-work 
in all its stages is lying about. The houses are well 
constructed and well kept, and the people, who are now 
flocking back to the village, look well fed and prosperous. 
Involuntarily the thought comes to me, “ What a con- 
tented, peaceful sort of life this is!” Few wants, and 
those easily supplied; no luxury, and no starvation ; no 
yearnings after the unknown, no vague, unsatisfied aspira- 
tions, and no_heart- breakings : everything thoroughly 
positive, well-ordered, and material. How will this meet 
the shock of advancing civilization-——of the approaching 
contact of black and white? The natives tell me I am 
the first of my colour who has set foot in their village 
and they seem proud and pleased at my visit: May they, 
ay 
— . & 
ae 
