272 DANGEROUS ILLNESS OF THE AUTHOR. 
will preserve thy life." " Boukari," answered I, " why lament 
my death ? If any one ought to weep it is I, since I die in 
a foreign land, far from all that is dear to me ; take care of 
my remains, bury me in the neighbouring- wood, at the foot 
of the great mahogany tree, where I rested on my arrival at 
Bandeia, and turn my head towards the north." 
After giving directions for my funeral, for I was afraid 
lest the inhabitants of Bandeia, in the excess of their fana- 
ticism might expose my body to the birds or to wild beasts» 
I fell into such a swoon, that I really thought I was going 
to sleep for ever ; but a salutary crisis had taken place. On 
the 12th, when I awoke I was extremely surprised to find 
scarcely any thing the matter with me ; the fever was gone, 
and I considered myself as nearly rid of my disorder. 
Whilst I was rejoicing at being so miraculously delivered 
from my sufferings, I heard Boukari uttering deep groans, 
which were forced from him by a violent cholic ; at the 
same time he manifested a resignation of which very few 
are capable. Having made some figures on calebashes filled 
with cold water, he swallowed it, and the complaint instantly 
left him. Magnetism, will, perhaps, regard this cure as the 
effect of her power. 
The relief I had felt for some minutes, led me to 
imagine that I had recovered my health, but I was soon 
convinced of my error, on finding myself afflicted with all 
the ills to which a mortal . can perhaps be a prey ; — 
