THE SEA REACHED. 363 



road to carry their produce to market. Here all kinds 

 of food are remarkably cheap. 



Farther on we left the mountainous country, and, as 

 we descended towards the west coast, saw the lands 

 assuming a more sterile, uninviting aspect. On our right 

 ran the river Senza, which nearer the sea takes the name 

 of Bengo. It is about fifty yards broad, and navigable 

 for canoes. The low plains adjacent to its banks are 

 protected from inundation by embankments, and the 

 population is entirely occupied in raising food and fruits 

 for exportation to Iyoanda by means of canoes. The 

 banks are infested by myriads of the most ferocious 

 mosquitoes I ever met. Not one of our party could get 

 a snatch of sleep. I was taken into the house of a Portu- 

 guese, but was soon glad to make my escape and lie across 

 the path on the lee side of the fire, where the smoke blew 

 over my body. My host wondered at my want of taste, 

 and I at his want of feeling, for, to our astonishment, 

 he, and the other inhabitants, had actually become used 

 to what was at least equal to a nail through the heel of 

 one's boot, or the tooth-ache. 



As we were now drawing near to the sea, my companions 

 •were looking at everything in a serious light. One of 

 them asked me if we should all have an opportunity of 

 watching each other at I v oanda. " Suppose one went for 

 water, would the others see if he were kidnapped ? " I 

 replied, " I see what you are driving at ; and if you 

 suspect me, you may return, for I am as ignorant of 

 I^oanda as you are : but nothing will happen to you but 

 what happens to myself. We have stood by each other 

 hitherto, and will do so to the last." The plains adjacent 

 to Loanda are somewhat elevated and comparatively 

 sterile. On coming across these we first beheld the sea : 

 my companions looked upon the boundless ocean with 

 awe. On describing their feelings afterwards, they 

 remarked that " we marched along with our father, 

 believing that what the ancients had always told us was 

 true, that the world has no end ; but all at once the 

 world said to us, ' I am finished ; there is no more of me ! ' " 

 They had always imagined that the world was one extended 

 plain without limit. 



They were now somewhat apprehensive of suffering 

 want, and I was unable to allay their fears with any 

 promise of supply, for my own mind was depressed by 



