192 A JOURNEY UP THE RIVER CONGO. 
blue-grey over the sharp horizon of. the Congo, gradually 
lift themselves up, throw out wings and limbs, and while 
their dark bellies stretch away in exaggerated perspective — 
till they vanish into haze, their great snowy heads and 
shining arms expand over the heavens as if they would, in 
their rapacity, conquer and swallow all the cerulean blue. 
Then in their moments of proudest development they 
break up like unwieldy empires. One province after 
another deserts and floats away into independence, and 
the one great cloud that erewhile occupied three-quarters 
of the sky gives birth to many cloudlets, each with a dark 
grey body and a white border, and these in their divisions 
and separations let the sunlight pierce their ranks through 
and through with many darts and broad-swords of gold, 
and thus, thoroughly disorganised and disunited, the 
cloud titans are swept from off the blue heavens by their 
fickle friend, the wind, and for a while the sky is empty 
and serene. But not for long: as I am eating my lunch © 
under the shade of the palm groves, the air becomes 
stifling ; over the water is a shimmering reverberation of 
heat, the crocodiles on the distant banks positively gasp 
for breath with expanded jaws, the flies forget to bite, the 
birds and the insects cease their chirping—there is an 
awful silence. Something is going to happen, and every- 
thing animate is conscious of the suspense and the 
impending struggle. Faraji comes to my retreat, and, 
pointing to the line of open water where the Congo meets 
the sky, his finger indicates a faint purplish nebula or haze 
which is shapeless and yet has limits to its small extent. 
Itis the avant garde of an awful army, the real trained 
hosts of the storm-fiend, who in his struge¢le for the empire 
of the sxy now puts forth his utmost streneth. The former 
clouds were but a slight skirmishing force in comparison, 
and the Zanzibaris, my weather guides, paid no attention 
to their movements, but now they all come to me, although 
the sky is a hard, unsullied blue, save for-the purplish | 
stain near the eastern horizon, and say with emphasis, 
“ Rain 1s coming.’ 
Fearing to be cut off from Msuata by the approdchia 
storm for the remaining hours of daylight, and perhaps __ 
