166 Village Life in Pongo-land . 
superintending their domestic work, look after 
their children’s and their own toilette, tend the 
fire, attend to the cooking, and smoke con- 
sumedly. The idle sit with the men at the doors 
of their huts ; those industriously disposed weave 
mats, and, whether lazy or not, they never allow 
their tongues and lungs a moment’s rest. The 
slaves, male and female, draw water, cut fuel, or 
go to the distant plantations for yams and bananas; 
whilst the youngsters romp, play and tease the 
village idiot—there is one in almost every settle¬ 
ment. Briefly, the day is spent in idleness, ex- 
cept, as has been said, for a short time preceding 
the rains. 
When the sun nears the western horizon, the 
hunter and the slaves return home, and the house¬ 
wife, who has been enjoying the “ coolth ” 
squatting on her dwarf stool at her hut-door, and 
puffing the preparatory pipe, girds her loins for 
the evening meal, and makes every one “ look 
alive.” When the last rays are shedding their rich 
red glow over the tall black trees which hem in 
the village, all torpidity disappears from it. The 
fires are trimmed, and the singing and harping, 
which were languid during the hot hours, begin 
with renewed vigour. The following is a speci¬ 
men of a boating-song : 
(Solo.) “Come, my sweetheart!” 
(Chorus.) “ Haste, haste !” 
