162 Village Life in Pongo-land. 
meal—I have seen something of the kind in 
England. The sex, unpolitely said to have one 
fibre more in the heart and one cell less in the 
brain, often engages in a violent wordy war; the 
tornado of wrath will presently pass over, and leave 
clear weather for the day. In the evening, when 
the electric fluid again gathers heavily, there will 
be another storm. Meanwhile, superintended by 
the mistress, all are occupied with the important 
duty of preparing the morning meal. It is sur¬ 
prising how skilful are these heaven-born cooks ; 
the excellent dishes they make out of “ half- 
nothing.” I preferred the cuisine of Forteune’s 
wives to that of the Plateau, and, after finding that 
money was current in the village, I never failed to 
secure their good offices. 
The Mpongwe breakfast is eaten by the women 
in their respective verandahs, with their children 
and friends ; the men also gather together, and 
prefer the open air. This feed would not only 
astonish those who talk about a “ free breakfast- 
table,” with its silly slops and bread-stuffs ; it would 
satisfy a sharp-set Highlander. In addition to 
yams and sweet potatoes, plantains, and perhaps 
rice, there will be cooked mangrove-oysters fresh 
from the tree, a fry, or an excellent bouillabaisse of 
fish ; succulent palaver sauce, or palm-oil chop ; 
poultry and me£t. The domestic fowl is a favou¬ 
rite ; but, curious to say, neither here nor in any 
