THE KILIMA-NJAR 0 EXPEDITION. 
ture is red velvet and gilt wood. Round the walls 
are ranged medley assemblages of kitchen clocks, 
ormolu timepieces, aneroid barometers, thermometers, 
anemometers, telescopes, opera-glasses, musical-boxes, 
swords, spears, guns, pistols, toys of ingenious kinds, 
photographic albums, photographs glazed and framed 
and faded, and what not else. The upper end of the 
room, where the “ Sultan ” ordinarily sits, has a 
large mirror in the centre, and on either side of the 
mirror is a full-length oil painting of Sayyid Barghash. 
These two paintings are identical in every detail. 
They were manufactured in Paris. The Sayyid had 
a photograph taken of himself during his visit to 
London. It was in a sitting posture. He sent it to 
Paris with the order that it was to be enlarged stand¬ 
ing, and then converted into two oil paintings. The 
Parisian artist, in no way at a loss, cut off: the head 
of the sitting Sultan and stuck it on to the decapitated 
portrait of some Algerian Arab photographed erect. 
The combination was enlarged, and in due time gave 
rise to the two oil paintings in the palace at Zanzibar. 
Sayyid Barghash bin Sa’id, the Prince of Zanzibar, 
Pemba, and the Zangian coast, is a man of about 
forty-five, as far as an Arab’s age may be guessed. 
He is tall, somewhat corpulent, and not unhandsome. 
Were it not that his face betrays the traces of a too 
uxorious life, and that he has for some reason lately 
cut off his moustache and trimmed his beard to re¬ 
semble an English tradesman’s, he might even be 
called good-looking. His complexion is clear, his eyes 
large and fine, though faded with excesses, and his 
teeth white and perfect. The Sultan’s feet are just 
of that ideal type that Sir Frederick Leighton loves 
to paint, and which, until I saw them peeping from 
