to Loango Bay. 5 
parrots, and poultry, cages, and Fetish dolls called 
“ idols.” 
Half a mile of good sandy path led to the Eng¬ 
lish Factory, built upon a hill giving a charming 
view. To the south-east, and some three miles 
inland from the centre of the bay, we were shown 
“ Looboo Wood,” a thick motte conspicuously 
crowning a ridge, and forming a first-rate land¬ 
mark. Its shades once sheltered the nydre, locally 
called buffalo, the gorilla, and perhaps the more 
monstrous “ impungu ” (mpongo). Eastward of 
the Factory appears Chomfuku, the village of 
Jim Potter, with a tree-clad sink, compared by old 
voyagers with “ the large chalkpit on Portsdown 
Hill,” and still much affected by picnickers. At 
Loanghili, or Loanguilli, south of Looboo Wood, 
and upon the right bank of a streamlet which 
trickles to the sea, is the cemetery, where the kings 
are buried in gun-boxes. 
The Ma-Loango (for mwani, “ lord ” of Loango), 
the great despot who ruled as far as the Congo 
River, who used to eat in one house, drink in 
another, and put to death man or beast that saw 
him feeding, is a thing of the past. Yet five miles 
to the eastward (here held to be a days march) 
King Monoyambi governs “ big Loango town,” 
whose modern native name, I was told, is Man- 
gamwdr. He shows his power chiefly by for¬ 
bidding strangers to enter the interior. 
