FROM TENERIFFE TO CAPE LOPEZ 
21 
Every evening the glimmer of the sea, as the ship 
ploughs her way through it, is wonderful : the foam is 
phosphorescent, and little jelly-fishes spring up through 
it like glowing balls of metal. After leaving Konakri 
we saw almost every night the reflection of storms that 
swept across the country, and we passed through 
several deluges of rain accompanied by tornadoes 
that did nothing, however, to cool the air. On cloudy 
days the heat was worse than on others, and the sun, 
although not shining directly on us, was said to be 
much more dangerous in such weather than at other 
times. 
Early on April 13th, a Sunday, we reached Libre- 
ville, and were welcomed by Mr. Ford, the American 
missionary, who brought us a preliminary gift from 
Africa of flowers and fruit from the mission-house 
garden. We thankfully accepted his invitation to visit 
the mission station, which is called Baraka, and is 
situated on a hill about 2J miles along the coast from 
Libreville. As we mounted the hill through the rows 
of neat bamboo huts belonging to the negroes, the 
chapel doors opened after service. We were introduced 
to some of the congregation and had a dozen black 
hands to shake. What a contrast between these clean 
and decently clothed people and the blacks that we had 
seen in the seaports, the only kind of native we had met 
up to now ! Even the faces are not the same. These 
had a free and yet modest look in them that cleared 
from my mind the haunting vision of sullen and unwill- 
ing subjection, mixed with insolence, which had hitherto 
looked at me out of the eyes of so many negroes. 
From Libreville to Cape Lopez it is only an eight 
hours’ run. When, early on Monday, April 14th, we 
