THE CARAVAN SOXG. 



3G1 



closes with a grand promenade ; all the dancers being 

 jammed in a rushing mass, a galop i?ifernale, with the 

 features of satyrs, and gestures resembling aught but 

 the human. When the fun threatens to become too 

 fast and furious, the song dies, and the performers, with 

 loud shouts of laughter, throw themselves on the 

 ground, to recover strength and breath. The grey- 

 beards look on with admiration and sentiment, remem- 

 bering the days when they were capable of similar feats. 

 Instead of " bravo," they ejaculate " Nice ! nice ! very 

 nice ! " and they wonder what makes the white men 

 laugh. The ladies prefer to perform by themselves, 

 and perhaps in the East, ours would do the same, if a 

 literal translation of the remarks to which a ball always 

 gives rise amongst Orientals, happened by misfortune to 

 reach their refined ears. 



When there is no dancing, and the porters can no 

 longer eat, drink, and smoke, they sit by their fires, 

 chatting, squabbling, talking and singing some such 

 " pure nectar " as the following. The song was com- 

 posed, I believe, in honour of me, and I frequently heard 

 it when the singers knew that it was understood. The 

 Cosmopolitan reader will not be startled by the epithet 

 " Mbaya," or wicked, therein applied to the Muzungu. 

 A " good white man," would indeed, in these lands, have 

 been held an easy-going soul, a natural, an innocent, 

 like the " buona famiglia," of the Italian cook, who ever 

 holds the highest quality of human nature to be a 

 certain facility for being u plucked without 'plain- 

 ing," and being " flayed without flinching." Moreover, 

 despite my " wickedness," they used invariably to come 

 to me for justice and redress, especially when proximity 

 to the coast encouraged the guide and guards to " bully" 

 them. 



