Up the Congo to Banza Nokki . 147 
and burial. The Congo traveller will hear 
“ Nganna ! mata bicho ” (Master! kill the worm, 
i. e., give me a dram), till the words seem, like 
“Bakhshish” further east, to poison his ears. This 
excuse for a drink arose, or is said to have arisen, 
from some epidemic which could be cured only by 
spirits, and the same is the tradition in the New 
World (“ Highlands of the Brazil,” i. chap. 38). 
Similarly the Fulas of the Windward coast, who as 
strict Moslem will not drink fermented liquors, hold 
a cup of rum to be the sovereignest thing in the 
world for taenia. The entozoon of course gives 
rise to a variety of stale and melancholy jokes 
about the early bird, the worm that dieth not, and 
so forth. 
A greybeard of our gin was incontinently opened 
and a tumbler in a basin was filled to overflowing ; 
even when buying ground-nuts, the measure must 
be heaped up. The glass was passed round to 
the “ great gentlemen,” who drank it African 
fashion, expanding the cheeks, rinsing the mouth 
so that no portion of the gums may lose their 
share, and swallowing the draught with an affect¬ 
edly wry face. The basin then went to the “ little 
gentlemen ” below the salt, they have the “ vinum 
garrulum,” and they scrambled as well as screamed 
for a sup of the precious liquor. I need hardly 
quote Caliban and his proposed genuflections. 
I had been warned by all the traders of the lower 
