Soon after crossing the river we commenced the ascent of Ifòdy, a

very steep and difficult path, for an hour or more; but as we mounted

higher and higher a glorious prospect gradually revealed itself.

Looking back after we had reached the summit, there was the Mòramànga

plain, bounded by the distant forest stretching away north and south,

until lost in the dim distance, while below us the Mangòro could be

seen in a wavy blue line in the Ankay plain. Before us, to the left,

was a lovely valley, fertile and green with rice-fields, watered by

the Valàla river and shut in by the Angàvo range of mountains, while

on the right was a confused mass of hills, looking like a mighty sea

which had suddenly been hardened and fixed in its tossings.

[Sidenote: AN EXTRAORDINARY NEST]

There was much more evidence of cultivation as we proceeded, the

valleys being occupied by rice-fields, which were kept covered with a

few inches of water by careful irrigation. Among the bird population

of Madagascar there are some eighteen species of herons and storks

which are seen in the marshes and rice-fields. One of the most

noticeable of these is the _Tàkatra_ or tufted umber, a long-legged

stork with a large plume or crest. It builds an extraordinarily large

nest, which is visible at a considerable distance and might be taken

at first sight for half-a-load of hay. It is usually placed on the

fork of a large tree, and is composed of sticks and grass, plastered

inside with a thick lining of mud. It is from four and a half to

six feet in diameter, dome-shaped, with a lateral entrance, and is

divided into three chambers, in one of which its two large eggs are

laid. The entrance is by a narrow tunnel and is always placed so

as to be difficult of access, though the nest itself may be quite

easy to approach. From this conspicuous nest, and the sedate way in

which the tàkatra marches about seeking for its food, many native

superstitions have gathered about the bird, one of which is that

those who destroy its nest will become lepers. If the sovereign’s

path was crossed by a tàkatra, it was considered unlucky to proceed,

and the royal procession had to retrace its steps. Many native

proverbs also refer to this bird. There are also two other species

of stork, one of which is always found together with other shore

birds; it lives in companies of from six to twelve individuals at

river-mouths, feeding on crustacea and mulluscs, from which habit

comes its name of _Famàkiakòra_ or “shell-breaker.”

[Sidenote: THE HOVAS]

We were now nearing the country of the Hovas, and could see an

evident difference in the appearance of the inhabitants. They were

lighter in colour and had longer and straighter hair than the coast

tribes. But owing to the fashion, at that time, of both sexes wearing

their hair done up in a number of knots, and from the apparent

absence of whisker or beard, I was sometimes puzzled to know at first

sight whether the people we passed were men or women; and there was

little difference in dress, the _làmba_ being worn by both. Not only

were the people different in appearance to those we had mostly seen,

but the dwellings also had a much more civilised look. Several of the

houses at Ambòdinangàvo were of the true Hova type, with high-pitched

roofs, made of strong timber framing and filled in, for the walls,

with thick upright planking, instead of the slight bamboos and leaves

of the coast and forest houses. Some had boarded floors and had a

room in the roof; and the crossed rafters at the gables were carried

up for two or three feet above the ridge. The house in which I stayed

had a much more comfortable appearance than any I had been in before,

having two rooms on the ground floor, the walls covered with matting,

and there were actually chairs! a luxury I had not experienced since

leaving Tamatave. I felt that I was getting near civilisation again.

While dinner was preparing I strolled out into a ravine near the

house and was struck with the beauty and variety of the insects,

as indeed I had been in many parts of the journey. There were

butterflies of gorgeous hues, dragonflies, crimson, blue and dull

gold in colour, grasshoppers with scarlet wings, and the very spiders

with gold and silver markings. Some species of these latter were of

great size; we saw hundreds of them in their large geometric webs

stretching over the paths as we came along.

[Sidenote: A COMBINATION OF BEAUTY]

On Monday morning, 12th October, we left the village before sunrise

and immediately began the ascent of Angàvo, which rises from fifteen

hundred to sixteen hundred feet above the valley. It is an enormous

mass of granite, capped with clay, the summit being scarped and

fortified with earthworks; it is, however, not a detached mountain

rising from a plain on every side, but rather a vast natural bastion

or outwork of a higher level of country. There was a gorgeous

sunrise, which covered the greater part of the sky with a crimson

light, unlike anything I had ever seen before. Then for another hour

or two we were passing through the upper belt of forest, here very

narrow, being only ten or twelve miles across, but as dense and as

beautiful as the lower and wider belt. And it was just as difficult

to travel through as the other forest, descending into the gorge of

the Mandràka river and then scaling the steep ascents. One place

especially, where we crossed the stream, was a perfect combination

of beauty—rushing waters, luxuriant foliage of fern and palm and

bamboo—and hundreds of large blue and black papilio butterflies

hovering over the river.

At eight o’clock we reached Ankèramadìnika, a village close to the

last ascent of the forest, and waited for a few minutes while my

bearers bought manioc root at the little market. The people crowded

round me, bringing various articles of food for sale—sweet potatoes,

honeycomb, and wild raspberries. We had now left behind us the forest

region and were on the bare open uplands of Imèrina, the air being

clear and keen. The hills were less steep and more rounded, reminding

me of some parts of the English chalk downs, and there was hardly

a tree to be seen. In several places the granite or gneiss takes

a dome-like form; and in others the same rock formed the highest

points. For many miles I could see them rising high over every other

hill; one of these, on the southern side of a huge mountain called

Angàvokèly, was like a titanic castle; another, which is divided into

three and called Tèlomiràhavàvy (“Three Sisters”), was like a vast

church.

[Sidenote: AMBÀTOMÀNGA]

There were signs of approaching the capital in the number of villages

which came in sight. The country also was much more cultivated,

chiefly, however, in the valleys, where the bright green patches of

the newly sown rice gave a refreshing contrast to the bare and brown

appearance of the hills and downs, now parched and dry after five or

six months without rain. In many places great black patches showed

where the dry grass had been set on fire. This is done shortly before

the rains come on, and the rank hay-like grass is succeeded by a crop

of fine short herbage suitable for pasture. About noon we caught

sight of the large village of Ambàtomànga, then two or three miles

distant. This place had an important and picturesque appearance,

being considerably larger than any town on the road. Over a number of

smaller dwellings one large house rose conspicuous, with its lofty

high-pitched roof and double verandah. Close to the village is a

lofty mass of blue gneiss rock, about a couple of hundred feet in

height, and crowned by a stone tomb and other buildings, giving it

the air of a fortification. Passing through a large weekly market,

where hundreds of people were buying and selling, we at length

entered the last station on the road to Antanànarìvo.

Ambàtomànga had quite the appearance of a fortified town, having

walls of clay surrounding it, and deep fosses outside them. I stopped

at the large house which I had noticed at first, and found it a

well-finished timber structure, with venetian shutters and framed

doors, quite a contrast to the mere sheds in which I had slept for

ten nights past. It was divided into three rooms on the ground floor,

with walls, floor and ceiling all well planed and finished. The

owner, a fine-looking man and a native noble, gave me a welcome in

a little broken English; but his knowledge of European tongues was

apparently confined to half-a-dozen short phrases, for he repeatedly

said, “Thank you, sir,” giving me a hearty shake of the hand at

the same time, as if he thought that was the proper formula to be

observed. A little before dusk I walked out with him to the fort-like

tomb on the top of the rock. In the light of the setting sun the red

clay hills gave back the warm rays with an intensity of colour that

was remarkable. The tomb at the top is a large stone structure, well

worked, with an open balustrade and bold mouldings. Walking round

the house after dusk, I saw a lurid glare in the sky on all sides,

and then found it was produced by the grass burning on the hills and

downs, which showed in lines of fire for many miles in all directions.

[Sidenote: FIRST VIEW OF THE CAPITAL]

Early on Tuesday morning, with a glad heart I took my seat in my

palanquin, rejoiced to think that this was the last stage in my long

journey. About three-quarters of an hour after leaving Ambàtomànga

we caught our first sight of the capital, still twelve or fourteen

miles distant, and I could not but be struck by its size and fine

situation, a much larger city than I had expected, built on the

summit and slopes of a lofty rocky hill some two miles long from

north to south, which was covered with dark-looking houses. In the

centre stood conspicuous the great bulk of the chief palace and

its smaller neighbour, their arched verandahs and steep roofs, all

painted white, and shining in the morning sun, towering over every

other object. It was a memorable moment to me, as I thought of what

had happened in Antanànarìvo within the last quarter-century, and

that my work was to raise lasting memorials to the brave Malagasy who

had suffered and died for their faith.

On we went over the long rolling moor-like hills, losing sight of the

city every now and then, and presently coming in view of it again

as we mounted the ridges; and every half-hour brought out more of

the details of the place and revealed its masses of dark houses,

clustered on the slopes of the rocky hill. Several streams we crossed

by means of stone arched bridges, and I was struck by the number of

villages to be seen in every direction, many of them enclosed in

high walls made of red clay, laid with care in regular courses and

apparently hard and durable. The houses were all built of the same

material, and many of them were enclosed in circular and others in

square courtyards with gateways. Many of the villages were surrounded

with deep fosses, sometimes two and even three yards deep, now

generally filled with bananas, peach and other fruit trees, and some

with walls and stone gateways, giving one the impression that there

must have formerly been much internal warfare to need such elaborate

defences. This indeed was the case before Imèrina was governed by one

sovereign, about a hundred years ago.

[Sidenote: LOCUSTS]

Within a mile or two of the city we passed for a quarter of an

hour through a perfect cloud of locusts, which covered the ground

and filled the air. At a distance these insects appeared like a

low-lying cloud of dust; and when near to one, and seen in certain

directions, the sun shining on their wings gave them almost the

appearance of a snow shower. I began to realise one of the plagues

of Egypt. Many varieties of locust are common in Madagascar, and

occasionally they do great damage to the crops. The Malagasy,

however, make use of them for food, and when a cloud of them appears,

men, women and children are all out catching them; and for a few days

afterwards great brown heaps of them are to be seen at all the little

wayside shops. They are said to taste something like shrimps, without

any insides; but I must confess I never brought myself to taste them,

for they are anything but inviting in appearance.

At length I was carried into a compound near the foot of the city

hill, and after some delay was met by one of the L.M.S. missionaries

and conducted by a most difficult and breakneck path up into the

triangular central space called Andohàlo. At the north-eastern corner

of this space was the dispensary and dwelling of our good medical

missionary, Dr Davidson, from whom and Mrs Davidson I received

a hearty welcome, and in a short time also from the rest of the

missionary brethren. With a glad and thankful heart I found myself in

the capital of Madagascar, with cheerful anticipations of being able

to do something in the service of Him who had protected me thus far,

and of helping in various ways the Malagasy people.

CHAPTER VI

THE CHANGING MONTHS IN IMÈRINA: CLIMATE, VEGETATION AND LIVING

CREATURES OF THE INTERIOR

My object in these chapters is to describe, as vividly as I am able,

the varied aspects of the different months throughout the year

in this central province of Imèrina, as they present themselves

to anyone who lives in the capital city of Antanànarìvo, and is

frequently travelling in the country around it. I want to show the

variety of nature during the changing seasons, as the result of the

heat or cold, and of the moisture or drought of the climate. And it

must be remembered that although this central province of Madagascar

is by several degrees well within the tropics, our climate for some

months of the year is by no means the “tropical” one supposed in our

ordinary English use of that word. On these interior highlands, from

three to five thousand feet above the sea-level, the south-easterly

winds blow from June to August with a keenness and force which it

needs thick clothing to withstand, and makes a wood fire during the

long evenings a very pleasant addition to the comforts of home life.

The seasons in the central regions of the island are practically

only two: the hot and rainy period, from the beginning of November

to the end of April; and the cool and dry period, during the other

months, from May to October. The Malagasy are, however, accustomed

to speak of four seasons of their year—viz. the _Lòhataona_—_i.e._

“head of the year”—during September and October, when the planting

of the early rice is going on, and a few showers give promise of the

coming rains; the _Fàhavàratra_—_i.e._ “thunder-time”—when severe

storms of thunder and lightning are frequent, with heavy downpours

of rain, from the early part of November to the end of February or

into March; the _Fàraràno_—_i.e._ “last rains”—from the beginning of

March and through April; and lastly, the _Rinìnina_—_i.e._ “time

of bareness”—when the grass becomes dry and withered, from June to

August.

Taking therefore the seasons in order, from the beginning, not of

January, which gives no natural division of the year, but from the

early part of September, when the blossoms of the trees speak of

the “good time coming” of renewed verdure, I shall note down, in

their succession, the varying aspects of the country, in climate,

vegetation, and culture of the soil, as well as the animal life,

throughout the changing year.

[Sidenote: “THE HEART OF IMÈRINA”]

Before, however, proceeding to do this, it may give greater

distinctness to the mental picture I want to draw for those who have

never been in Madagascar, if I try to describe in a few words the

appearance of this central province of the island, especially of that

portion of it which is in the neighbourhood of the capital. From the

usually pure and clear air of this elevated region, which is not

defiled by the smoke of chimneys, nor often thickened by the mists of

the lowlands, one can see for extraordinary distances, and hills and

rocks twenty or thirty miles away stand out more sharp and distinct

than they would usually do in England at only four or five miles’

distance.

Let us go up to the highest point of the long rocky ridge on

and around which Antanànarìvo is built, from which we can “view

the landscape o’er,” and try and gain a clear notion of this

“heart of Imèrina,” as it is often called by the Malagasy. The

city hill reaches the greatest elevation at a point called

Ambòhimitsímbina—_i.e._ “Hill of regarding”—which is seven hundred

feet above the general level of the rice-plains around it. From this

“coign of vantage” there is of course a very extensive view in every

direction, and we see at once that the surrounding country is very

mountainous. East and south there is little but hills of all shapes

and sizes to be seen, except along the valleys of the river Ikòpa

and its tributaries, which come from the edge of the upper forest,

thirty miles or so away to the east. To the north the country is

more undulating, but at ten or twelve miles away high hills and

moors close in the view, some of the hills rising into mountains.

The country is everywhere in these directions, except in the river

valleys, covered with red soil of various shades of colour, through

which the granite and gneiss foundations protrude at almost every

elevated point in huge boulder-like rocks, and form the summits of

every hill and mountain, often in dome-shaped or boss-like masses,

and in some like titanic castles and towers.

[Illustration: EARTHENWARE POTTERY

Making cooking utensils and pitchers (_Sìny_)]

[Illustration: DIGGING UP RICE-FIELDS

Notice the long-handled and long-bladed native spade, the handle

serving as a lever to turn over the clods]

There is little foliage to be seen except on the top of some of the

hills where the ancient towns and villages are built, and in such

places a circle of old _àviàvy_ trees and an occasional _amòntana_

tree give a pleasant relief to the prevailing red and ochre tints of

the soil, and, in the cold and dry season, to the russet and grey

hues of the dry grass on the bare hills and downs. The largest mass

of green is at the old capital, Ambòhimànga, eleven miles away to

the north, where the steep sides of the hill are still covered with

a remnant of the original forest, which formerly was doubtless much

more extensive in this part of the central province. In the deep

fosses which surround old villages there is also often a considerable

amount of foliage, as well as in the hollows and along the streams.

But it must be confessed that a large extent of Imèrina, in common

with the rest of the interior, consists of bare rounded down-like

hills, very uninteresting in character; although towards sunset, in

the slanting rays, these hills have a softness of outline in their

curves which has a decided element of beauty not to be ignored.

[Sidenote: THE GRANARY OF ANTANÀNARÌVO]

To the west, from north to south, the prospect is very extensive.

To the south-west there rises by very gradual slopes, at some

thirty-five miles’ distance, the mass of Ankàratra, its three or four

highest peaks reaching an elevation of nearly nine thousand feet

above the sea, and about half that height above the general level of

the country. But even at such a distance the summits usually stand

out sharp and clear against the sky. Due west and north-west is a

considerable extent of comparatively level country, beyond which

mountains fifty miles away are distinctly seen on the horizon. In

the foreground, stretching away many miles, is the great rice-plain

of Bétsimitàtatra, from which numbers of low red hills, most of them

with villages, rise like islands out of a green sea where the rice

is growing. Along the plain the river Ikòpa can be seen, winding its

way northwards to join the Bétsibòka; the united streams, with many

tributaries, flowing into the sea through the Bay of Bèmbatòka. This

great plain, “the granary of Antanànarìvo,” was formerly an immense

marsh, and earlier still an extensive lake with numerous bays among

the surrounding hills; but since the embanking of the river by some

of the early kings of Imèrina, it has become the finest rice-plain of

the island and, with its connected valleys, furnishes the bulk of the

food of the people of the central province.

[Sidenote: DAMAGE BY STORMS]

The embankments require, of course, constant attention during the

rainy season, when the river is swollen by the heavy rains; and

during the time of the native regime, an unusually wet season would

cause them to give way, so that the rice-fields were flooded. At such

times the whole population would be called out to help in stopping

the breaches, and I remember one occasion, a Sunday, when we had no

afternoon service, and with others of my brother missionaries I spent

several hours in carrying sods and stones, together with our people.

Another such calamity occurred in January 1893; for on the night of

Saturday, the 28th, and the following day, there was an unusually

heavy storm, doing immense damage, destroying hundreds of houses and

village churches, and breaking the river banks, so that in a day

or two hundreds of thousands of acres of the great rice-plain were

under water, three or four feet deep. In some parts it was difficult

to trace the river banks; it was “water, water everywhere,” and

scores of low hills were again turned into islands, cut off from

all communication, except by canoe, with the world around them. If

one could have forgotten the terrible loss to the people of their

crops of rice just ready to be cut, it was a most beautiful scene,

and reminded one that in ancient times this great plain was always

a lake, when many now extinct animals, reptiles and gigantic birds

found a home in it and on its shores. For centuries the heavy

rains—probably far heavier then than now, from the greater extent

of forest—went on filling up the valleys with the rich black and

blue loam; gradually the lake became less and less deep; slowly the

river cut out its bed; and then man came on the scene, and the old

native kings aided nature by embanking the river; the marshes became

rice-fields and supplied with food the present large population which

lives all around it.

From this elevated point at least a hundred small towns and villages

can be recognised, many of them marked by the tiled roof, and often

the tower, of the village church, which shines out distinctly amid

the brown thatched roofs of most of the houses. This view from

the summit of the capital is certainly an unrivalled one, in

Madagascar at least, for its variety and extent, as well as for

the human interest of its different parts, as shown by the large

population, the great area of cultivated land, the embanked rivers,

and the streams and water-channels for irrigation seen in every

direction.

[Illustration: POUNDING AND WINNOWING RICE

A palanquin bearer is in the doorway]

[Illustration: A HOVA MIDDLE-CLASS FAMILY AT A MEAL

Rice is the staple food, with a meat or vegetable relish]

SPRINGTIME: SEPTEMBER AND OCTOBER.—With the early days of September

we may usually say that springtime in Imèrina fairly sets in, and

that the year in its natural aspects properly commences. By a true

instinct, arising doubtless from long observation of the change of

the seasons, the Malagasy call this time _Lòhataona_—_i.e._ “the

head, or beginning, of the year”—when nature seems to awake from the

comparative deadness of the cold and dry winter months, during which

the country has looked bare and uninviting, but now begins again

to give promise of fertility and verdure. The keen cold winds and

drizzly showers of the past few weeks give place to warmer air and

clearer skies, and although usually there is but little rain during

September, the deciduous trees begin to put forth their leaves, and

flower-buds appear as heralds of the fuller display of vegetable life

which will be seen after the rains have fallen.

[Sidenote: RICE-FIELDS]

The great rice-plain to the west of Antanànarìvo still looks, during

the early days of the _Lòhataona_, bare and brown; but, if we examine

the prospect more closely, we shall see that in various places, where

the plain borders the low rising grounds on which the villages are

built, there are bright patches of vivid green. These are the _kètsa_

grounds or smaller rice-fields, where the rice is first sown thick

and broadcast, and where it grows for a month or two before being

planted out in the larger fields, which are divided from each other

by a low bank of earth, a few inches broad and only a foot or two in

height.

As the season advances, the people everywhere begin to be busy

digging up their rice-fields, both large and small, the clods being

piled up in heaps and rows in order to give the soil the benefit of

exposure to the sun and air. All this work is done by the native

long-handled and long and narrow bladed spade, driven into the

ground by the weight of the handle, as the Malagasy wear no shoes

and so could not drive down the spade by the foot, in European

fashion, while the plough is still an unknown implement to them. The

water-courses, by which water is brought to every rice-plot, are

now being repaired in all directions. The chief supply of water is

from the springs found at the head of almost every valley, which is

carefully led by channels cut and embanked round the curves of the

hillsides, being often taken thus for a considerable distance from

its source. Eventually this little canal resolves itself into a small

stream traversing the valley, from which smaller channels convey the

water to every field, so as to moisten the clods after they have been

dug over.

[Sidenote: THE WATER-SUPPLY]

The water-supply for the great Bétsimitàtatra plain is derived

from the Ikòpa river and its many tributaries. Canals tap these

rivers at various points, in order to irrigate the fields at lower

levels farther down their course. A large quantity of water is thus

diverted from the rivers during September and October, so that the

smaller streams are almost dry, and even the Ikòpa and its affluents,

good-sized rivers at other times of the year, then become shallow and

easily fordable.

Before the end of October a large extent of the great plain,

especially to the north and north-west, is completely planted with

rice; and a green level, looking like one vast lawn, stretches away

for many miles in this direction, without any break or visible

divisions. This green is the _vàry alòha_, or “former rice,” the

first crop, which will become ripe in the month of January, or

early in February. Smaller expanses of bright green appear in other

directions also, especially along the courses of the rivers, but a

considerable extent of the plain directly to the west of the capital

is still russet-brown in colour, and will not be planted until a

month or two later. From this will come the later rice-crop, the

(_vàry_) _vàky ambiàty_, which is planted in November or December and

becomes fit for cutting about April. This latter crop is so called

because the flowering of the _ambiàty_ (_Vernonia appendiculata_)

shrub, about November, gives notice to the people that planting-time

has come. This shrub is very conspicuous about this time of the year

from its masses of white—slightly tinged with purple—flowers.

The _kètsa_ grounds are covered before sowing with a layer of wood

and straw ashes, so that they have quite a black appearance. Before

this, however, the clods have been broken up and worked by the spade

into a soft mud, with an inch or two of water over all, and on this

the grain is sown broadcast, springing up in two or three weeks’

time and looking like a brilliant emerald carpet.

There are usually a few heavy showers about the end of September

or the early part of October, which are called _rànonòrana

màmpisàra-taona_—_i.e._ “rain dividing the year”; but occasionally

no rain falls until the rainy season regularly commences, so it

is dry and dusty everywhere, the ground cracks, and everything

seems thirsting for moisture. The heat increases as the sun gets

more vertical, although the nights are pleasantly cool. Yet

notwithstanding the dry soil the trees begin to blossom. Most

conspicuous among them is the Cape lilac (_Melia azederach_), a tree

introduced from South Africa about eighty or ninety years ago by the

first L.M.S. missionaries, and now thoroughly naturalised in the

interior of Madagascar. It grows to be a good-sized tree, and many

hundreds of them are to be seen in and around Antanànarìvo, making

the place gay with their profusion of pale greyish-lilac flowers, and

fragrant with their strong perfume.

[Sidenote: ORCHARDS]

There are many large orchards in Imèrina, planted chiefly with

mango-trees and presenting a refreshing mass of evergreen all the

year round. But at this time, when looking from a little distance,

the green of the leaves is largely mingled with a tinting of

reddish-brown, caused by masses of flowers, in spikes, chiefly in

the upper part of the trees. Later on the purplish tint of the new

leaves gives another shade of colour. The produce of these trees is

an excellent fruit; and there are three or four varieties of it,

one kind, “the stone mango,” being more globular in shape; another,

“the satin-mango,” being smaller, like a large plum, with a delicate

flavour and scent. Another most widely grown fruit is the peach,

which is more used cooked than eaten raw; and others are the _bìbàsy_

or loquat, the quince, the rose-apple, the orange, and the _ròtra_, a

good-sized tree with a profusion of small black pear-shaped fruits,

somewhat astringent when eaten raw, but excellent for cooking and

for preserves. The vine also is largely cultivated, chiefly a black

variety; while bananas and plantains and pine-apples are to be had

all the year through.

The low banks of earth which form the boundary walls of plantations

are largely planted with a species of _Euphorbia_, of which there are

two varieties, one with brilliant scarlet bracts and the other of

pale yellow tint, the leaves appearing on the prickly stems later on.

As the season advances the people burn the grass over the hillsides

and open moors, as we saw at Ambàtomànga when coming up the country.

There can be no doubt that to this practice is largely attributable

the bare and treeless appearance of the central provinces. The young

trees which would spring up, especially in the hollows and sheltered

places, have no chance against the yearly fires which sweep over

the country, and the little vegetation which has held its own is

constantly liable to be lessened as time goes on. Sometimes a dozen

fires, long curving lines of flame, may be seen at once in different

directions, and these give a strangely picturesque appearance to the

nights of springtime in Imèrina.

[Sidenote: BIRDS]

The weather often becomes very hot and sultry before the rains come

on, and the usually bright clear skies and pure atmosphere of other

months are exchanged for thick oppressive days, when the distant

hills disappear altogether, and the nearer ones seem quite distant

in the dense haze. This is probably due, to a great extent, to the

grass-burning just described, and also to the frequent burning of

the forest away to the east. As the weather gets warmer a few birds

come up from the wooded regions of the country, and wherever there

is a small patch of wood the oft-repeated cry of the _Kankàfotra_,

the Madagascar cuckoo, may be heard, much resembling the syllables

“_kow-kow, kow-kow-koo_.”

And here we must notice more fully the birds to be seen in Imèrina.

They are few compared with those in the warmer and forest regions,

and are mostly of powerful flight, principally birds of prey,

swifts, swallows and water-birds. The two coast regions—east and

west—are, on the contrary, well peopled with birds of all sorts, and

while the greater part of these inhabit indifferently one or the

other region, there are a certain number which have their habitat

almost exclusively in one region only, and give it its special

characteristics. There are also some which keep to a still more

limited area, not going beyond a very restricted range. As far as

is at present known, two hundred and ten species of birds have been

found in Madagascar; and the very special character of its avi-fauna

may be seen from the fact that it includes forty-one genera and a

hundred and twenty-four species, which are all peculiar to the island.

[Sidenote: RAPACIOUS BIRDS]

The rapacious birds of the country comprise twenty-two species, the

majority being hawks, kites and buzzards, with several owls and

two eagles. The most common bird of this order is the _Papàngo_ or

Egyptian kite, a large hawk found all over the island. It may be seen

every day flying gracefully along in search of lizards and snakes,

and the mice, rats and small birds which form its chief food, and

continually swooping down upon its prey. When the long dry grass

is being burned on the downs the papàngo may be noticed sweeping

backwards and forwards close to the edge of the blazing grass, so

as to pick up the smaller creatures escaping the advancing flames,

or those which have been overtaken by them and killed. I have

occasionally observed hundreds of these birds in the neighbourhood

of Ambòhimànga, describing great circles, at an immense height, and

have wondered how such large numbers could obtain food. This kite

is the dread of the country-dwelling Malagasy, for it swoops down

on their chickens and is only scared away by their loud cries and

execrations. From these habits comes one of its provincial names,

_Tsimalàho_—_i.e._ “the one who does not ask,” but takes without

saying “by your leave.” It is constantly seen in company with

the white-necked crows, and, like them, feeds near the villages,

especially near where the oxen are killed.

Another very widely spread rapacious bird is the little lively and

noisy _Hìtsikìtsika_ or kestrel, which is found in or about every

village, often perched on the gable “horns” of the houses, or even

on the extreme point of the lightning conductors. It is by no means

shy, and one can sometimes approach it quite closely and see its

bright fearless eyes, before it darts away. It is fond of the same

resting-place and, after a noisy chatter with its mate, takes a

sweeping flight for a few hundred yards and returns to its former

condition. Several native proverbs refer to the kestrel’s quick

restless flight and its frequent habit of hovering aloft, poised

almost motionless, or with an occasional quivering of the wings,

which, in Malagasy idiom, is called “dancing,” for the native dances

consist as much in a graceful motion of the hands as in that of the

feet. Among some tribes, or families, the kestrel is a tabooed bird

and it is crime to kill it.

[Sidenote: HAWKS]

Another hawk worth noticing, although much less common than the

two previously mentioned ones, is the lesser falcon, a small but

very courageous bird, which has long attracted the attention of

the Malagasy for its swiftness. The native name, _Vòromahèry_, or

“Powerful bird,” is also that of the tribe of Hova Malagasy who

inhabit the capital and its near neighbourhood, and this falcon also

was adopted as a crest or emblem by the native government, and its

figure was engraved on their official seals. Its flight is extremely

rapid, more like that of an arrow than that of a bird.

Many of the Malagasy hawks are beautiful birds, with horizontal bars

of alternate light and dark colour on breast and tail; but perhaps

the most handsome of them all is the Rayed Gymnogene, which is of

a pearly-grey colour, barred with black, while on the tail and

quill feathers are broad bands of pure white and intensely glossy

black. This bird stands high, having very long legs, with a crest of

feathers on the crown and neck.

As the end of October draws near the people are busily at work, not

only in the rice-fields, but also repairing their houses, mending

their grass or rush roofs, and hurrying on their sun-dried brick or

clay building before the heavy rains fall. The majority of native

houses are of those materials, and everything must be finished, or

at least well protected from the weather, before the rainy season

comes on. The water-courses, too, need attention, and the river banks

must be repaired, lest a succession of heavy rains should swell the

streams, break through the embankments and flood the rice-plains.

SUMMER: NOVEMBER, DECEMBER, JANUARY AND FEBRUARY.—Summer in central

Madagascar is not only the hot season, but it is also the rainy

season, very little rain falling at any other time of the year.

It is accordingly called by the Malagasy _Fàhavàratra_—_i.e._

“thunder-time”—since almost all heavy rain is accompanied by a

thunderstorm; and taking the average of a good many years, this

season may be said to commence at the beginning of November.

[Sidenote: A TROPICAL STORM]

As the sun gets every day more nearly vertical at noon, on his

passage towards the southern tropic, the heat increases, and the

electric tension of the air becomes more oppressive. For a week or

more previous to the actual commencement of the rains, the clouds

gather towards evening, and the heavens are lighted up at night by

constant flashes of lightning. But at length, after a few days of

this sultry weather, towards midday the huge cumuli gather thickly

over the sky and gradually unite into a dense mass, purple-black in

colour, and soon the thunder is heard. It rapidly approaches nearer

and nearer, the clouds touching the lower hills, then down darts the

forked lightning, followed by the roar of the thunder, and presently

a wild rush of wind, as if it came from all quarters at once, tells

us that the storm is upon us, and then comes the rain, in big heavy

drops for a few seconds and soon in torrents, as if the sluice-gates

of the clouds were opened. The lightning is almost incessant; now and

then, in one of the nearer crashes, it is as if the whole artillery

of heaven were playing upon the doomed earth; and for half-an-hour

or so there is often hardly any interval between the crashing and

reverberations of the thunder peals, the hills around the capital

echoing back the roar from the clouds. Certainly a heavy thunderstorm

in Madagascar is an awfully grand and glorious spectacle and is not

without a considerable element of danger too, especially for anyone

caught in the storm in the open, or in a house unprotected by a

lightning-conductor. Every house of any pretensions in the central

provinces has this safeguard, for every year many people are killed

by lightning, some while walking on the road, and others in houses

unprotected by a conductor. One often hears of strange freaks, so

to speak, played by the lightning; for instance, one of our college

students, travelling with wife and children to the Bétsiléo, was

killed instantaneously, as well as a slave near him, when sitting in

a native house, while a child he was nursing at the time escaped with

a few burns only. A missionary of the Norwegian Society was struck by

lightning, which melted the watch in his pocket, drove the nails out

of his shoes, and yet he escaped with no other harm than some burns,

which eventually healed.

A large quantity of rain sometimes falls during such storms in a

very short time. On one occasion three and a quarter inches fell in

less than half-an-hour; and as the streets and paths through the

capital were formerly all very steep, and there was no underground

drainage, it may be imagined what a roar of water there was all over

the city after such a storm. The three or four chief thoroughfares

were transformed into the beds of rushing torrents and a series of

cascades; from every compound spouted out a jet of water to join the

main stream, and it used to be no easy matter to get about at all in

the rush and the roar. It was no wonder that most of the highways of

the capital got deeper and deeper every year. Even where there was

an attempt at a rough paving, a single storm would often tear it up

and pile the stones together in a big hole, with no more order than

obtains in the bed of a cataract. After the rains were over, the

red soil was dug away from the sides to fill up the channel cut by

the torrent, and so the road gradually sank below the walls of the

compounds on either side of it.[7]

[Sidenote: RAINFALL]

The annual rainfall of Antanànarìvo is about fifty inches, December

and January being the wettest months, with an average fall of ten to

twelve inches each. It is very unusual for thunderstorms to occur

in the morning, they mostly come on in the afternoon; and after the

first heavy downpour a steady rain will often continue for three or

four hours, and occasionally far into the night. It is generally

bright and fine in the early morning; all vegetation is refreshed by

the plentiful moisture; and the people are busy in their plantations

on the sloping hillsides, digging up the softened earth for planting

manioc, sweet potatoes, the edible arum, and many other vegetables.

Hail also very frequently falls during these thunderstorms; and

should it be late in the season, when the rice is in ear, great

damage is often done to the growing crop. A large extent of

rice-field will sometimes be stripped of every grain, the stalks

standing up like bare sticks. Charms against hail had therefore in

the old heathen times a prominent place in the popular beliefs and,

there can be little doubt, are still trusted in and used by many

of the more ignorant people. Occasionally the hailstones are of

very large size and kill sheep and small animals, if they are left

unsheltered. I remember a storm of this kind, when the hailstones

were as large as good-sized nuts, while some were cushion-shaped

and hexagonal, with a hollow in the centre, and nearly one and a

half inches in diameter. In other cases they have been seen as

jagged lumps of ice; and it may be easily imagined that it is very

unpleasant and somewhat dangerous to be exposed to such a fusillade.

[Sidenote: LIGHTNING]

Besides the thunderstorms like those just described, which come so

close and are often so awful in their results, there is another kind

of storm we frequently see in the rainy season which is an unmixed

source of delight. This is when, for two or three hours together in

the evening, a large portion of the sky is lighted up by an almost

incessant shimmer of lightning, now revealing glimpses of a glory as

if heaven itself were opening, and anon showing many different tiers

and strata of clouds lying one behind the other, and alternately

lighted up, making clear the outlines of the nearer masses of cumulus

upon the brilliant background. How wonderful are the different

colours of this lightning! intense white, like glowing metal, now

red, and now violet; and not less wonderful are its forms! now it is

a zigzag, which plunges downwards, now it branches out horizontally,

and again it darts upwards into the clouds; and then, for a few

moments, there is nothing but an incessant quiver and shimmer, which

lights up first one quarter of the heavens, and then another, and

then the whole. All the time no thunder is heard from this celestial

display, but it is most fascinating to watch the infinitely varied

effects of light and darkness, till we sometimes feel as if a “door

was opened in heaven,” and we could catch a glimpse of “the excellent

glory” within.

[Sidenote: OLD STYLE DIVISION OF TIME]

Something may be said here about the native division of time.

Although the European months and year have become generally known and

used, the old style of months are still recognised to some extent

by the Malagasy. Their months were lunar ones, and therefore their

year was eleven days shorter than ours, their New Year’s Day coming

consequently at different times, from the first to the twelfth month,

until the cycle was complete after thirty-three years. When I first

came to Madagascar the Malagasy New Year began in the month of March;

and this style of reckoning time was kept up until the accession

of the last native sovereign, Queen Rànavàlona III., in 1883. The

Malagasy appear never to have made any attempt, by the insertion of

intercalary days or any other contrivance, to fill up their shorter

year to the true time occupied in the earth’s annual revolution

round the sun; for of course they must have noticed that their New

Year came at quite different periods after a few years. The names of

the Malagasy months are all Arabic in origin, as indeed are also

the days of the week (Alahàdy (Sunday), Alàtsinainy (Monday), Talàta

(Tuesday), Alarobìa (Wednesday), etc.); but it is curious that the

month names are not the Arabic names of the months, but are those of

the constellations of the Zodiac. Thus, Alàhamàdy is the Ram, Adaoro

is the Bull (_daoro_ = _taurus_), Adizaoza is the Twins, and so on.

This appears to have arisen from the connection between astrology and

the divination (_sikìdy_) introduced by the Arabs several centuries

ago.

The New Year was _the_ great festival of the Malagasy and was

observed on the first day of the first month, Alàhamàdy. It was

called the _Fandròana_ or “Bathing,” and was kept up until the French

conquest in 1895, but since then has been superseded by the Fête of

the French Republic on 14th July every year. The ancient customs

were, however, very interesting, and were chiefly the following:—(1)

The lighting of little bundles of dried grass at dusk on the evenings

of the last day of the old year and the first of the new one.

These fires, possibly a relic of the old fire-worship, were called

_harèndrina_, and formed one of the most pleasing features of the

festival in the gathering darkness of the evening. (2) The ceremonial

Royal Bathing at the great palace, when all the principal people

of the kingdom were present, as well as representative foreigners,

was the most prominent of all the ceremonies, giving, as it did,

the name to the whole festival. At a fixed time in the evening the

queen retired behind curtains fixed at the north-east (the sacred

corner) of the great hall and bathed in a silver bath; after which

she emerged, robed and crowned, and, carrying a horn of water in her

hands, went down the assembly to the door, sprinkling the people as

she passed. (She would playfully give some of us an extra splash as

she went along.) (3) On the following day came the killing of oxen,

doubtless the most important of all the observances in the estimation

of the people generally, at any rate of the poorer classes, who

then got, for once a year at least, a plentiful supply of beef.

Presents of the newly killed meat were sent about in all directions

to relatives and friends, and feasting and merry-making prevailed

for several days among all classes. (4) For some time previous to

the actual festival it was customary for the Malagasy to visit their

elders and superiors in rank, bringing presents of money, fowls,

fruit, etc., using certain complimentary formulæ and expressions of

good wishes.

[Sidenote: WILD FLOWERS]

The rains which usually fall in November soon make the hills and

downs, which have got so brown and dry during the cold season, become

green again. Especially does the fresh grass brighten those portions

of the hillsides where the withered grass and fern had been burnt

two or three months before; and although, as already noticed, wild

flowers are not so plentiful or prominent in Madagascar as they are

in European countries, there are several kinds which now make their

appearance and give some beauty to the scene. Among these are the

_vònènina_ (_Vinca rosea_), with large pink flowers; the _avòko_

(_Vigna angivensis_), bright crimson; the _nìfinakànga_ (_Commelyna

madagascarica_), deep blue; several small vetch-like plants with

yellow flowers; many others with minute yellow compound flowers, and

some few other kinds. A beautiful scarlet gladiolus is seen sparingly

on the downs, as well as a conspicuous and handsome white flower,

with a long tubular calyx, very like a petunia.

[7] It will be understood that all this refers to Antanànarìvo

under native rule. Since the French occupation the city has been

wonderfully improved; well paved and drained streets have been

engineered all over the place, with electric lighting and abundant

water-supply.

CHAPTER VII

SPRING AND SUMMER

Besides flowers growing on the ground, there are many shrubs and

small trees now in blossom, although some are by no means confined

in floral display to the warm and rainy season. Along the hedges in

some localities is a small bush, with clusters of purple leguminous

flowers, called _famàmo_ (_Mundulea suberosa_); branches of these

shrubs are sometimes placed in a pool or stream, so as to stupefy,

and thus easily obtain, any fish present in the water. Very

conspicuous are the bright yellow flowers of the _tainakòho_ (_Cassia

lævigata_), and the _tsiàfakòmby_ (_Cæsalpinia sepiaria_), and the

orange-yellow spikes of the _sèva_ (_Buddleia madagascariensis_).

More showy and handsome still perhaps are the abundant large yellow

flowers of the prickly pear, which is so largely used for hedges

and for the defences of the old towns and villages. The strong and

sharp spines, from an inch to an inch and a half long, are the usual

native substitute for pins. A species of _Hibiscus_ (_Hibiscus

diversifolius_) is not uncommon, with yellow flowers, which have deep

red in the centre; yellow seems indeed the most common colour in the

flora of Imèrina. At this time of the year also three or four species

of aloe come into flower. The larger of these, called _vàhona_

(_Aloe macroclada_) by the Malagasy, is much used for planting as a

hedge, from its fleshy leaves being armed with sharp prickles; its

tall flower spike shoots up very rapidly to a height of four or six

feet. Another and smaller one, called _sahòndra_ (_Aloe capitata_),

has its flowers branching at the top of the stalk something like a

candelabra. The numerous flowers attract, as they expand, swarms of

bees. Another plant, like an aloe in appearance, called _tarètra_

(_Fourcroya gigantea_) by the natives, has long leaves, with a sharp

spine at the ends only; and its flower-stalk shoots up like a small

mast to a height of twenty feet, with widely spreading branchlets

and an immense number of light coloured flowers. Strong fibre used

as thread is obtained from the leaves, the name of the plant being

indeed that used for “thread.” The tall flower-stalks of these aloes

and agaves form quite a noticeable feature in the Imèrina landscape

in the early summer. In the orchards, soon after the mango has

finished flowering, we may see the curious whitish flowers of the

rose-apple, a sort of ball of long stamens, showing conspicuously

among the foliage.

[Sidenote: WATER-PRODUCING INSECTS]

It is well known by those who live in Madagascar that there are,

at certain seasons of the year, a number of insects found on trees

which produce a constant dropping of water. Happening one day to

be standing under a peach-tree in our garden from which water was

dropping, I found that there were clusters of insects on some of

the smaller branches. In each cluster there were about twenty to

thirty insects, and these were partly covered with froth, from which

the water came. The insects producing this appeared at first sight

to be small beetles, about half-an-inch long, black in colour,

with golden-yellow markings on the head and thorax, while on the

wing-cases there was a chequer of minute spots of yellow on the

black ground. After observing a single insect for a few seconds, I

noticed that the tail was quite flexible and moved sideways, and was

constantly protruded and then withdrawn a little, and it was evident

that these little creatures were the larval form of a species of

beetle. The sap of the tree is extracted in such quantities as to

maintain their bodies in a state of saturated humidity. The activity

of the larvæ seems to increase as the heat of the day progresses,

and to diminish again towards evening. But the object of this

abstraction of fluid from the tree, and the purpose it serves, is

still a subject needing investigation. I have observed these insects

on other trees—mangoes, acacia, _zàhana_, and others; they appear

indeed to be very common, and the ground underneath the branches

where they cluster is covered with small patches soaked with water.

A French naturalist, M. Goudot, described an insect apparently of

the same kind as that found in Imèrina as the larva of a species of

_Cercopis_, and nearly related to the cicada of Europe. The quantity

of water produced from a tree at Tamatave seems to have been much

greater than that observed in the interior, and resembling a small

rain-shower; probably this was due to the greater heat of the coast.

M. Goudot says that the perfect insect attains a length of an inch

and a half, and that these also emit small drops of clear and limpid

water.

Towards the beginning of December the earlier crop of rice comes

into ear; and should the rains fall as usual during November, the

remaining portions of the great rice-plain will be all planted out

with the later crop, the whole of the level and its branching valleys

presenting an unbroken expanse of green. Of this, the early rice

shows distinctly as a darker shade of colour, although it will soon

begin to turn yellow, as the grain ripens under the steady heat and

the plentiful rainfall. Perhaps this is the time when Bétsimitàtatra

is seen in its most attractive and beautiful aspect, for every part

of it is covered with rice in some stage or other of growth and

cultivation.

[Sidenote: DAYS AND NIGHTS]

To anyone coming for the first time into a tropical country from

England, the comparative uniformity in the length of the days and

nights throughout the year seems very strange. In Imèrina there

is only about two hours’ difference in the length of the longest

day, about Christmas, and the shortest day, early in July. It is

dark at about seven o’clock on the first of January, and at about

six o’clock on the first of July. Thus we have no long evenings,

which are such a delight in the summer months in England; but, on

the other hand, we escape the long nights and the short gloomy

days of the English winter. We lose also the long twilights of the

temperate zone, although I have never seen the almost instantaneous

darkness following sunset which one sometimes reads about. There is

a twilight of from fifteen to twenty minutes’ duration in this part

of Madagascar. While, therefore, we miss the much greater variety of

the seasons in England, we have many compensations, especially in the

very much larger proportion of bright sunny days, the clear skies,

and the pure atmosphere of our Imèrina climate. Very seldom have

we a wet morning in any part of the year; and the heat is not more

oppressive than it is in hot summers in England, while in the cold

season the sharp keen air is bracing and health-giving. We never see

snow in Madagascar, but a thin film of ice is very occasionally seen

on the slopes of the Ankàratra mountains in July and August.

[Illustration: ROCKS NEAR AMBÀTOVÒRY

This shows the remains of the original forest. Cattle are grazing

with a boy in charge]

[Sidenote: THE HOURS]

It may be interesting to notice at this point the numerous words used

by the Malagasy to indicate the different times of the day, from

morning to evening. Clocks and watches are comparatively a recent

introduction into Madagascar, nor do the people ever seem to have

contrived any kind of sun-dial, although, as will be seen, they did

use something else as a kind of substitute for such a time-keeper.

It should be remembered that the hours given (counting in European

fashion) as equivalents for these native divisions of the night and

the day are only approximations, and must be taken as the _mean_ of

the year, or, in other words, at about the time of equal day and

night, towards the end of March or of September. They are as follows:—

{_Mamaton’ alina_, Centre of night }

{ or or } About 12.0 midnight

{_Misasaka alina_, Halving of night }

_Maenno sahona_, Frog croaking, About 2.0 A.M.

_Maneno akaho_, Cock-crowing, ” 3.0 ”

_Maraina alina koa_, Morning also night, ” 4.0 ”

_Maneno goaika_, Crow croaking, ” 5.0 ”

{_Manga vodilanitra_, Bright horizon }

{_Mangoan’ atsinanana_, Reddish east } ” 5.15 ”

{_Mangiran-dratsy_, Glimmer of day }

_Ahitan-tsoratr’ omby_, Colours of cattle can be seen, ” 5.30 ”

_Mazava ratsy_, Dusk, ” ” ”

_Mifoha lo-maozoto_, Diligent people awake, ” ” ”

_Maraina koa_, Early morning, ” ” ”

{_Vaky masoandro_, Sunrise }

{_Vaky andro_, Daybreak } ” 6.0 ”

{_Piakandro_, ” }

_Antoandro be nanahary_, Broad daylight } ” ” ”

_Efa bana ny andro_, ” ” } ” ” ”

_Mihintsana ando_, Dew-falls, ” 6.15 ”

_Mivoaka omby_, Cattle go out (to pasture), ” ” ”

_Maim-bohon-dravina_, Leaves are dry (from dew), ” 6.30 ”

_Afa-dranom-panala_, Hoar-frost disappears }* ” 6.45 ”

_Manara vava nya ndro_, The day chills the mouth } ” ” ”

_Misandratra andro_, Advance of the day, ” 8.0 ”

_Mitatao haratra_, Over (at a right angle with)

the purlin, ” 9.0 ”

_Mitatao vovonana_, Over the ridge of the roof, ” 12.0 noon

_Mandray tokonana ny Day taking hold of the

andro_, threshold, ” 12.30 P.M.

{_Mitsidika andro_, Peeping-in of the day }

{_Latsaka iray dia ny }

{ andro_, Day less one step (= hour?) } ” 1.0 P.M.

{_Solafak’ andro_, Slipping of the day } ” 1.30 ”

{_Tafalatsaka ny andro_, Decline of the day = } to

{_Mihilana ny andro_, afternoon } ” 2.0 ”

_Am-pitotoam-bary_, At the rice-pounding place, ” ” ”

{_Mby amin’ ny andry ny

{ andro_, At the house post, ” ” ”

{_Am-pamatoran-janak’ At the place of tying the

omby,_ calf, ” 3.0 ”

_Mby am-pisoko ny andro_, At the sheep or poultry

pen, ” 4.0 ”

_Mody omby tera-bao,_ The cow newly calved comes

home, ” 4.30 ”

_Tafapaka ny andro_, Sun touching (_i.e._ the

eastern wall), ” 5.0 ”

_Mody omby,_ Cattle come home, ” 5.30 ”

_Mena masoandro,_ Sunset flush, ” 5.45 ”

_Maty masoandro,_ Sunset (_lit._ “Sun dead”), ” 6.0 ”

_Miditra akoho,_ Fowls come in, ” 6.15 ”

_Somambisamby,_ Dusk, twilight, ” 6.30 ”

_Maizim-bava-vilany,_ Edge of rice-cooking pan

obscure, ” 6.45 ”

_Manokom-bary olona,_ People begin to cook rice, ” 7.0 ”

_Homan-bary olona,_ People eat rice, ” 8.0 ”

_Tapi-mihinana,_ Finished eating, ” 8.30 ”

_Mandry olona,_ People go to sleep, ” 9.0 ”

_Tapi-mandry olona,_ Everyone in bed, ” 9.30 ”

_Mipoa-tafondro,_ Gun-fire, ” 10.0 ”

_Mamaton’ alina,_ Midnight, ” 12.0 ”

* These refer only to the two or three winter months.

This list is, I think, a very interesting one, and shows the

primitive pastoral and agricultural habits of the Hova Malagasy

before they were influenced by European civilisation. Previous to

their knowledge of clocks and watches (which are still unknown to the

majority of people away from the capital), the native houses thus

served as a rude kind of dial. As, until recent times, these were

always built with their length running north and south, and with

the single door and window facing the west, the sunlight coming in

after midday at the open door gave, by its gradual progress along the

floor, a fairly accurate measure of time to people amongst whom time

was not of very much account. In the forenoon, the position of the

sun, nearly square with the eastern purlin of the roof, marked about

nine o’clock; and as noon approached, its vertical position, about

the ridge-pole, or at least its reaching the meridian, clearly showed

twelve o’clock. Then, as the sunlight gradually passed westward and

began to peer in at the door, at about one o’clock, it announced “the

peeping-in of the day” (_mitsìdika àndro_); and then, as successive

points on the floor were reached by the advancing rays, several of

the hours of the afternoon were sufficiently clearly marked off:

“the place of rice-pounding” (_am-pitotòam-bàry_), as the light fell

on the rice mortar, further into the house; “the calf-fastening

place” (_am-pamatòran-jànak òmby_), as the rays reached one of the

three central posts supporting the ridge, and where the calf was

fastened for the night; and then, “touching” (_tàfapàka_), when the

declining sunshine reached the eastern wall, at about half-past four

in the afternoon. Other words and notes of time, it will be seen,

are derived from various natural phenomena. Some other words for the

division of time used by the Malagasy may be here noted. Thus “a

rice-cooking” (_indray màhamàsa-bàry_) is frequently used to denote

about half-an-hour; while “the frying of a locust” (_indray mitòna

valàla_) is a phrase employed to describe a moment.

Many words exist in the Malagasy language to denote different

appearances of nature which are somewhat poetical and seem to

show some imaginative power. Thus the light fleecy clouds in

the upper regions of the atmosphere are called “sky gossamer”

(_faròran-dànitra_); the sun is the “day’s-eye” (_masoandro_); the

galaxy is the “dividing of the year” (_èfi-taona_); the rainbow is

“God’s great knife” (_àntsibèn’ Andrìamànitra_); and a waterspout is

the “tail of the sky” (_ràmbon-dànitra_).

We saw just now that in Imèrina the native houses, with the sun

touching different parts of them, form a kind of primitive sun-dial;

so it may be well here to say something about the structure and

arrangement of a native house in this part of Madagascar.

[Sidenote: THE HOVA HOUSE]

A Hova house of the old style is always built with its length running

north and south; it is an oblong, the length being about half as

much again as the breadth, and the door and window always on the

west side, so as to be sheltered from the prevailing south-east

winds; for, as there is no glass, there would be much inconvenience

in facing the windward side. There is frequently another window at

the north end of the house, and often one also in the north gable.

The material used always to be the hard red clay found all over the

central provinces; and this is still largely used, although sun-dried

bricks are supplanting the old style of building. This clay, after

being mixed with water, is kneaded by being trampled over thoroughly,

and is then laid in courses of about a foot to eighteen inches in

height, and about the same in thickness. Each layer is allowed to

become hard and firm before the next one is set, and it is well

beaten on both sides as it dries. If properly laid and of good

material, the cracks are not very large when the clay is dry, and

are filled up; and it makes a very substantial and durable walling,

quite as much, and more so, as the majority of cheap brick houses in

England. The boundary walls of the compounds are also made of the

same hard clay; and it is remarkable how many years such material

will last without much damage, although exposed almost daily, for

four or five months every year, to the heavy rains of the wet season.

(I know walls which had been built for several years before I saw

them first forty-three years ago, and yet they seem little altered

since that time.)

The houses of the upper classes and richer people used to be built

of timber framework, the walls being of thick upright planks, which

are grooved at the edge, a tenon of the tough _anìvona_ palm bark

being inserted so as to hold them together. Two or three lengths

of the same fibrous substance were also passed through each plank

longitudinally at different heights from the ground, so as to bind

them all firmly together round the house. The accompanying drawing

will show more clearly than any verbal description the details of

the structure of a Hova _tràno-kòtona_, as this style of wooden

house is called (no such houses are built nowadays; and very few of

them remain; the use of brick, sun-dried and burnt, has entirely

superseded them). The roof in both clay and timber houses does not

depend for its stability on the walls only, but is mainly supported

by three tall posts, which are let into the ground for some depth and

carry the ridge-piece. One of these posts is in the centre, and one

is at each end, close to the walls inside the house. This is a wise

provision, as the roofs are generally of high pitch, and in violent

winds would need much more support than could be given by the

walls. The gables were always thatched with the same materials as the

roof, either of long grass or the _hèrana_ sedge. At each gable the

outer timbers cross the apex, and project upwards for about a foot or

two, the extremities being notched, and often having a small wooden

figure of a bird. In the houses of people of rank, the _tàndro-tràno_

or “house-horns” were three or four feet long, while in some of the

royal houses they projected ten or twelve feet, the length being

apparently some indication of the rank of the owner. In some tribes

these gable ornaments, which have become only conventional horns

among the Hovas, are carved in exact resemblance of those adorning

the head of a bullock.

[Illustration: A MALAGASY HOUSE.

Showing elevation, plan, internal arrangement, and month names.

_See page 96_]

[Sidenote: THE INTERIOR]

The interior arrangements of a Hova house are very simple and are (or

perhaps it would be more correct to say _were_) almost always the

same.

Let us, following Malagasy politeness, call out before we enter,

“_Haody, haody?_” equivalent to, “May we come in?” And while we

wait a minute or two, during which the mistress of the house is

reaching down a clean mat for us to sit down on, we notice that

the threshold is raised a foot or more above the ground on either

side, sometimes more, so that a stone is placed as a step inside

and out. Entering the house in response to the hospitable welcome,

“_Màndrosòa, Tòmpoko é_,” “Walk forward, sir” (or madam), we step

over the raised threshold. In some parts of Imèrina a kind of closet,

looking more like a large oven than anything else, is made of clay

at the south-east corner, opposite the door, and here, as in an

Irish cabin, the pig finds a place at night, and above it the fowls

roost. Near the door the large wooden mortar or _laona_ for pounding

rice generally stands, and near it are the _fanòto_ or pestle, a

long round piece of wood, and the _sahàfa_ or large shallow wooden

dish in which the rice is winnowed from husk removed by pounding. At

about the middle of the eastern side of the house are placed two or

three globular _sìny_ or water-pots, the mouths covered with a small

basket to keep out the dust. Farther on, but near the west side, is

the _fàtana_ or hearth, a small enclosure about three feet square.

In this are fixed five stones, on which the rice-cooking pots are

arranged over the fire. And over this is sometimes fixed a light

framework upon which the cooking-pots are placed when not in use.

There is no chimney, the smoke finding its way out through windows

or door or slowly through the rush or grass thatch, and so the house

is generally black and sooty above, long strings of cobweb and soot

hanging down from the roof. Such appendages were considered as marks

of long residence and honour, and so the phrase, _mainty molàly_,

_lit._ “black from soot,” is a very honourable appellation, and is

applied to things ancient, such as the first Christian hymns; and

missionaries who have been a long time resident in the island are

given this name as a mark of respect.

The north-east corner of the house is the sacred portion of it, and

is called _zòro firaràzana_—_i.e._ the corner where the _ràry_ or

war-chant was sung and where any religious act connected with the

former idolatry was performed, and in which the _sàmpy_ or household

charm was kept in a basket suspended from the wall. In this corner

also is the fixed bedstead, which, especially in royal houses, was

often raised up some height above the ground and reached by a notched

post serving as a ladder, and sometimes screened with mats or coarse

cloth. West of this, close to the north roof-post, is the place of

honour, _avàra-pàtana_, “north of the hearth,” where guests are

invited to sit down, a clean mat being spread as a seat, just as a

chair is handed in European houses.

[Sidenote: FURNITURE]

There is little furniture in a purely native house; a few rolls of

mats, half-a-dozen spoons in a small but long basket fixed to the

wall, some large round baskets with covers, and perhaps a tin box

containing _làmbas_ for Sunday and special occasions; a few common

dishes of native pottery, and perhaps two or three of European make;

a horn or a tin _zìnga_, for drinking water; a spade or two—these

with the rice mortar and pounder and winnower already mentioned—the

water-pots, and the implements for spinning and weaving, constitute

about the whole household goods in the dwellings of the poorer

classes. The earthen floor is covered with coarse mats, and sometimes

the walls are lined with finer mats; in the roof an attic is often

formed for a part of or the whole length of the house and is reached

by a rude ladder. The floor of this upper chamber is frequently

covered over with a layer of earth and is used as a cooking-place,

with much advantage to the lower part of the house, which is thus

kept comparatively free from smoke and soot.

It must be understood the foregoing description applies to the

original style of native house, as unaffected by modern innovations.

In the capital and the more important places, as well as in many

villages, numbers of brick houses, with upper storeys and three or

four or more rooms, have been built of late years; and hundreds of

six-roomed houses, with verandahs carried on brick pillars, have also

been erected, following a model introduced about the year 1870 by the

late Rev. J. Pearse. This struck the fancy of the well-to-do people,

and similar ones have been built all over the central provinces.

[Sidenote: NEST OF BLACK WASP]

Few people who have lived in Madagascar can have failed to notice a

small longish lump of light coloured clay stuck under the eaves of

the house, or on the side of a window, or, in fact, in any sheltered

place; and if we take the trouble to break off a piece, we find

that this lump of clay contains a number of cells, all filled with

caterpillars or spiders in a numbed and semi-lifeless condition. The

maker of these cells is a black wasp about an inch long, with russet

wings, and as one sits in the verandah of one’s house one may often

hear a shrill buzz somewhere up in the rafters, and there the little

worker is busy bringing in pellets of clay with which she builds up

the walls of the cell. (When I lived at Ambòhimànga, one of these

wasps made a nest with several cells in my study, as the window was

generally open to the air.) Presently she is off again for another

load to the banks of a little stream where she has her brick-field.

Kneading the red earth with her mandibles, she quickly forms it into

a pellet of clay, about the size of a pea, which she dexterously

picks up and flies away back to the verandah. This pellet is placed

on the layer already laid, carefully smoothed and “bonded in” with

the previous structure, until a cell is completed. Observations

made by a careful student of animal and insect life show that about

twenty-six journeys finish one cell, and that on a fine day it takes

about forty-five minutes to complete it. This is only one out of many

cells, however, placed on the top of each other.

With regard to the storing of these cells with food for the grubs of

the wasp, Mr Cory[8] found that the number of spiders enclosed in

eleven cells varied from eight to nineteen. These are caught by the

wasp, stung so as to be insensible, but not killed, and then the

egg is laid in their bodies, so that on being hatched the grub finds

itself in the midst of food.

[Sidenote: BUILDING AND BURROWING WASPS]

Another species of these solitary wasps is a much larger insect,

about two inches in length, and she makes nests, which are extremely

hard, and are like half-buried native water-pots, with the mouths

facing the observer, and arranged regularly one above the other. When

finished they are plastered over with rough gravel. Unlike the wasp

previously mentioned, this one does not fetch the clay for building

purposes from the banks of a stream, but carries the water to the

dry earth, which it then damps and kneads into balls. The cells are

stocked with caterpillars, which are stung and numbed in the same way

as the spiders are treated by the first-named wasp. There are usually

three caterpillars placed in each cell.

Another wasp, also very common, does not build cells, but digs a

burrow in the ground, even in pretty hard places, like a well-trodden

road. Some of these use caterpillars for stocking their burrows, some

large spiders, and some crickets, but all drag or carry their prey

on foot, even the largest of them. One small wasp, when carrying a

spider, first amputates all its legs and then slings the body beneath

her. The burrows of the larger wasp are deep in comparison with the

size of the insect, being frequently a foot or more in depth. Mr Cory

gives a graphic description of a battle between one of these wasps

and a large spider, in which, however, the former managed to sting

its prey and capture it.

There is one very small wasp that makes no cell or burrow, but

chooses a long hole in a piece of wood, or a small bamboo, etc., for

the rearing of its larvæ. “Each kind of wasp seems to have its own

peculiar way of hunting; some run down on foot by scent for long

distances; some dash down violently into the web of a spider, and

catch him as he drops from out of it; while others again seize their

prey upon the wing, especially the social wasps. The males of all are

lazy and do no work.”[9]

January is usually the wettest month of the year in Imèrina; and in

some years there occurs what the Hova call the _hafitòana_, or “seven

days”—that is, of almost continuous rain, although it more usually

lasts only three or four days. Such a time is most disastrous for

houses, compounds and boundary walls, for the continuous rain soaks

into them and brings them down in every direction. From the steep

situation of the capital, almost every house compound is built up on

one side with a retaining wall, and on the other is cut away so as to

form a level space.

[Sidenote: LUXURIANT GROWTH]

The prolonged moisture, combined with the heat of this time of the

year, naturally makes everything grow luxuriantly. The hillsides

again become green and pleasant to the eye; our gardens are gay with

flowers, and in many places the open downs display a considerable

amount of floral beauty. I have never seen elsewhere such a profusion

of wild flowers as that which met our view when travelling from the

south-west to Antanànarìvo in December 1887. Leaving Antsìrabé and

proceeding northwards, the level country was gay with flowers, which

literally covered the downs, and in many places gave a distinct and

bright colour to the surface of the ground. Among these the most

prominent was a pale pink flower on stems from a foot to eighteen

inches high, called by the people _kòtosày_ (_Sopubia triphylla_),

and also the lovely deep blue flower called _nìfinakànga_, which

latter covered the paths and also occurred very abundantly among

the grass. In many places, especially near villages, whether

deserted or still inhabited, a plant with small pale blue flowers

(various species of _Cynoglossum_), almost exactly like our English

“forget-me-not,” grew in dense masses, showing a blue-tinted surface

even at a considerable distance. The _vonènina_, with a pale pink

flower, was very frequent, as well as several species of bright

yellow flowers, one with a head of minute florets, looking like

a small yellow brush; others were star-shaped, the whole forming

in many places a brilliant mass of gold. Three or four species of

white-flowered plants, one of them a clematis (_Clematis bojeri_),

were very frequent; and a few late examples of terrestrial orchids

were seen. Five or six weeks previously these were among the most

abundant flowers met with, and their clusters of waxy-white flowers

were very conspicuous. Other species of orchid, of rich crimson and

also of purple, were even more beautiful.

We reckoned that there were from twenty to thirty different species

of wild flowers then in bloom on these downs of Vàkinankàratra,

gladdening our eyes by their varied beauty and abundance on that

glorious morning. The flowers, however, grew much scarcer as we

travelled over higher ground; but six weeks previously these upper

_tanèty_ had also been gay with great masses of the brilliant crimson

flowers of a leguminous plant, which grew in clusters of many scores

of spikes growing close together. Our ride that day obliged us to

modify the opinions previously held as to the poverty of Madagascar

in wild flowers.

[8] The Rev. C. P. Cory, B.A., formerly of the Anglican Mission in

Madagascar.

[9] I am indebted for the information here given about wasps to an

interesting paper contributed by Mr Cory to the fourteenth number of

_The Antanànarìvo Annual_ for 1890.

CHAPTER VIII

THE CHANGING MONTHS IN IMÈRINA: CLIMATE, VEGETATION AND LIVING

CREATURES OF THE INTERIOR

AUTUMN: MARCH AND APRIL.—It will be understood from what has been

previously stated as to the divisions of the seasons in the Imèrina

province that, as with the seasons in England, there is some variety

in different years in the times when they commence and finish.

Generally, both crops of rice—the earlier and the later—are all cut

by the end of April, although in the northern parts of the province

it is usually five or six weeks after that date. But if the rains are

late, and should happen to be scanty in February and March, harvest

work is still going on at the end of May. In fact, owing to there

being these two crops of rice, with no very exactly marked division

between the two, autumn, in the sense of rice harvest, is going on

for about four months, and sometimes longer, as just mentioned, and

extends over the later months of summer as well as the two months of

autumn or _Fàraràno_ (March and April). In January those portions

of the great rice-plain which lie north-west of the capital, as

well as many of the lesser plains and valleys, become golden-yellow

in hue, very much indeed like the colour of an English wheat-field

in harvest-time; and after a few days patches of water-covered

field may be noticed in different places, showing where the crop

has been cut, and the few inches of water in which it was growing

show conspicuously in the prospect. As the weeks advance, this

water-covered area extends over larger portions of the rice-plain,

until the whole of the early crop has been gathered in, so that in

many directions there appear to be extensive sheets of water. I

well remember, when once at Ambòhimanàrina, a large village to the

north-west of Antanànarìvo, how strange it appeared to see people

setting out to cross what seemed a considerable lake. But of course

there was no danger, as the water was only a few inches deep.

[Sidenote: THE RICE CROP]

As there are channels to conduct water to every rice-field, small

canoes are largely used to bring the rice, both before and after it

has been threshed, to the margin of the higher grounds and nearer

to the roads. At the village just mentioned, which is like a large

island surrounded by a sea of rice-plain, there is one point where

a number of these channels meet and form quite a port; and a very

animated scene it presents at harvest-time, as canoe after canoe,

piled up with heaps of rice in the husk, or with sheaves of it still

unthreshed, comes up to the landing-place to discharge its cargo.

In a very few weeks’ time the watery covering of the plain is

hidden by another green crop, but not of so bright and vivid a tint

as the fresh-planted and growing rice. This is the _kòlikòly_, or

after-crop, which sprouts from the roots of the old plants. This is

much shorter in stalk and smaller in ear than the first crop, and is

often worth very little; but if the rains are late, so that there is

plenty of moisture, it sometimes yields a fair quantity, but it is

said to be rather bitter in taste.

In cutting the rice the Malagasy use a straight-bladed knife; and, as

the work proceeds, the stalks are laid in long curving narrow lines

along the field, the heads of one sheaf being covered over by the cut

ends of the stalks of the next sheaf. This is done to prevent the

ears drying too quickly and the grain falling out before it reaches

the threshing-floor. This last-named accessory to rice-culture is

simply a square or circle of the hard red earth, kept clear from

grass and weeds, sometimes plastered with mud, and generally on the

sloping side of the rising ground close to the rice-field. Here the

sheaves are piled round the threshing-floor like a low breastwork.

(Occasionally the rice is threshed in a space in the centre of the

rice-field, mats being spread over the stubble to prevent loss of the

grain.) No flail is used, but handfuls of the rice-stalks are beaten

on a stone fixed in the ground, until all the grain is separated

from the straw. The unhusked rice is then carried in baskets to the

owner’s compound and is usually stored in large round pits with a

circular opening dug in the hard red soil. These are lined with

straw, and the mouth is covered with a flat stone, which is again

covered over with earth; and in these receptacles it is generally

kept dry and uninjured for a considerable time.

[Sidenote: BEAUTIFUL BIRDS]

In most years the end of April and the beginning of May are very

busy times with the Malagasy; almost all other work must give way to

the getting in of the harvest; the fields are everywhere dotted over

with people reaping; most of the poorer people we meet are carrying

loads of freshly cut grain on their heads, or baskets filled with

the unhusked rice, and large quantities are spilt along the roads

and paths. Some of the chief embankments swarm with rats and mice,

which must pick up a very good living at this time of the year. Other

creatures also take toll from the harvest, especially the _Fòdy_, or

cardinal-bird, the bright scarlet plumage of the cock-bird making a

very noticeable feature of the avi-fauna during the warmer months.

This colour is not seen on the wings, which are sober brown, but

is brilliant on head, breast and back; it fades away in the winter

months, returning again as the breeding-time comes round. The white

egret, which we saw on the coast, is equally in evidence in Imèrina,

and sometimes flocks of two or three hundred of them may be seen in

the rice-fields and marshes. When living at Ambòhimànga we used to

notice that in the winter months a large number of the _Vòrompòtsy_

were accustomed to assemble on the open down towards sunset; and on

a signal apparently given by one of them the whole flock rose and

flew slowly away to roost in the large trees to the north-west of the

town. The white-necked crow is also plentiful, and is perhaps the

most commonly seen bird in Imèrina. On one occasion when walking with

a friend near Ambòhimànga, he had his gun and shot one of a small

flock of crows near us. For a few seconds there was a dead silence,

and then all the others filled the air with hoarse cries and came

dashing round us so closely that I feared they would injure our eyes,

so angry did they seem with those who had killed their companion.

One of the most beautiful birds to be seen is the _Vintsy_, or

kingfisher, of lovely purplish-blue, with yellow and buff breast and

belly. With short blunt tail and long beak, it may be seen perched on

the rushes or other aquatic plants, or darting over the streams and

marshes, flying in a curious jerking manner, like a flash of purple

light, pursuing the insects which form its food.

From what has been already said about rice-culture it may be easily

understood that it occupies a large amount of the time and attention

of the Malagasy. The digging and preparation of the ground; the

sowing in the _kètsa_ plots; the uprooting of the young plants;

the planting, by the women, of these again in the soft mud of the

rice-fields; the bringing of water, often from a long distance, to

the fields, and the repairing of the water-courses; the weeding

of the rice-fields; and, finally, the cutting, the threshing, the

bringing home, and the drying and storing of the rice—all this bulks

largely in their daily life through a good deal of the year. Rice

is the staff of life to the Malagasy, and they cannot understand

how Europeans can make a proper meal without it. _Mihìnam-bàry_,

“to eat rice,” is the native equivalent for the Eastern phrase, “to

eat bread”; they eat other things of course—manioc root, a little

meat or fish, and various vegetables, but these are only _laoka_ or

accompaniments to the staple food.

The Malagasy have a saying, when speaking of things which are

inseparable, that they are “like rice and water.” And when we

remember that rice is sown on water, that it is transplanted in

water, that it grows still in water, that it is reaped in water,

that it is usually carried by water, in canoes, that it is boiled in

water, and that water is generally the only beverage with which it is

eaten, it will be seen that there is much force in the comparison.

[Sidenote: ARTICLES OF FOOD]

Besides the above-mentioned additions to rice, the people eat as

a relish with it other things, many of them very repulsive to our

European notions—for instance, snails, locusts, certain kinds of

caterpillars, moths, and even, so it is said, some species of

spiders! But I never realised so distinctly what queer things

they will eat as when taking a ride one afternoon to the north of

Ambòhimànga. Passing along one of the long rice-valleys, we saw some

girls dredging for fish in the shallow water; and thinking we might

perhaps buy some to take home, we called to them to bring the basket

for us to see. They immediately complied, but, on inspecting the

contents, we found no fish, but a heap of brown, crawling, wriggling,

slimy creatures, really very disgusting in appearance, considered

as possible articles of food. This mass of creeping animal life

consisted of shrimps, water-beetles, tadpoles, and the larvæ of many

kind of insects. It is needless to say that we did _not_ make a

purchase of these tempting delicacies; but I believe they would all

go into the pot in some Malagasy house that evening and give a relish

to the rice of some of our native friends.

[Illustration: ON THE COAST LAGOONS

Fish traps. The way is blocked for fish with occasional openings for

traps]

The rivers of the interior are singularly deficient in fish of any

size; but in the shallow water of the rice-fields numbers of minute

shrimps are caught, as well as small fish of the kinds called _Tòho_

and _Tròndro_, but they are very bony and poor in flavour: somewhat

larger kinds, called _Màrakèly_ and _Tòhovòkoka_, are, however, very

good eating, but are not plentiful. Very large and fine eels are

caught in the rivers, as well as crayfish, of a kind peculiar to

Madagascar. On the water of the streams many kinds of water-beetles

and water-boatmen may be seen darting about in mazy circles; one of

these, called _Tsingàla_, causes death if swallowed by cattle or

human beings, oxen dying in less than twenty-four hours, unless a

remedy is promptly given. The Rev. H. T. Johnson wrote thus about

this insect:

[Sidenote: THE TSINGÀLA]

“I was travelling one day to Ambòhimandròso; the day had been

very hot, and passing by a dirty pool, one of my bearers stooped

down and drank with his hands and then hastily followed to carry

the palanquin. I saw the man drink and presently, hearing sounds

behind, I turned and discovered that the very man, who only a few

minutes before had drunk the water, was now in agonies of pain.

He stood stretching out both his arms and throwing back his head

in a frantic manner, at the same time shrieking most hideously.

My first thoughts were speedily seconded by the words of his

companions, who said, ‘He has swallowed a _tsingàla_.’ Of course, I

immediately got down and went back to the poor fellow. He was now

lying on the ground and writhing in agony, and I felt that unless

something could be done, and that speedily, the man must die. My

other bearers, seeing the extreme urgency of the case, called to

the passers-by, but none could render any assistance. Presently

a Bétsiléo was appealed to, and he said that he knew what would

cure him, but wanted to know how much money we would give. I said

immediately that it was no time for bargaining, but that I would

give him sixpence if he relieved the poor man from his sufferings.

Off he ran to procure some leaves, with which he returned in about

ten minutes; he soaked them in water from a stream close by, and

then gave the sufferer the infusion to drink. With almost the

quickness of a flash of lightning the poor fellow showed signs of

relief, and after drinking this infusion several times more he

said that he was free from pain, but felt very weak and faint. It

was some weeks before the man got thoroughly strong again.”

No one can pass along the little narrow banks and paths which

divide the rice-fields without noticing the large dragonflies

which dart over the water. Their colours are very various. A rich

crimson, steely-blue and old gold are some of these. They are

voracious creatures, as their name implies, and I saw one, one day,

deliberately, and audibly, crunching up a smaller one. At another

time, however, I noticed a fair-sized one being devoured by a spider,

which was barred with lines like a zebra.

[Sidenote: MARSHES]

The marshes in Imèrina are not useless to the people, for a variety

of useful plants grow there and are also planted in them. Among

these are the _Hèrana_, a sedge which grows to three or four feet in

height, and is extensively used for thatching native houses. If the

roof is a proper pitch this sedge is very durable, and when cut and

trimmed has a very neat appearance. Then there is the _Zozòro_, a

much taller sedge, closely allied to the papyrus, with a triangular

stem, and a feathery head of flowers. The strong tough peel is used

to make the excellent mats employed for flooring, and also all

sorts and sizes of baskets; the pith is used for stuffing pillows

and mattresses; and the stems firmly fixed together are used for

temporary doors and window shutters, and for beds. A rush, called

_Hàzondràno_, is employed for making baskets and mats.

As the colder weather advances, the mornings are often foggy, at

least a thick white mist covers the plains and valleys soon after the

sun rises and remains for an hour or two until his increasing power

disperses it. Seen from the higher grounds and from the most elevated

parts of the capital, this mist often presents a very beautiful

appearance; a billowy sea of vapour is brilliantly lit up by the

sunlight, and out of this sea the hill-tops rise up like islands. But

these misty mornings also reveal many things which cannot be seen,

or can only be seen by very close observation, in clear sunshine,

especially the webs of various species of spider. There they are all

the time, but we are not aware of their presence except on a misty

autumn or winter morning, when a very delicate thread and filmy net

is marked out by minute drops of moisture which reveal all their

wonderful beauty of structure. Many kinds of bush are seen to be

almost covered by geometrical webs: one species seems to choose

the extremities of the branches of the _sòngosòngo Euphorbia_, but

the most common is a web averaging five or six inches in diameter

which is spread horizontally on tufts of grass, and may be seen

by thousands, half-a-dozen or so in a square yard. This web has a

funnel-shaped hole near the centre, with a little shaft leading down

to the ground. Near this, the maker and tenant of the structure—a

little greyish-brown spider about half-an-inch long—may often be

found, if carefully searched for. As the sun gains power, these

numerous webs become almost invisible, but before the moisture is all

dried from them, they present a beautiful appearance in the sunshine,

for they are exactly like the most delicate gauze, studded with

numberless small diamonds, flashing with all the prismatic colours as

we pass by and catch the light at varying angles.

[Sidenote: SPIDERS]

The most conspicuous of the many species of spider seen in Madagascar

is a large _Nephila_, a creature about an inch and a half long, with

a spread of legs six or seven inches in diameter. It is handsomely

marked with red and yellow, and may be noticed by scores in the

centre of its geometric web stretching across the branches of

trees. From the considerable distances spanned by the main guys and

supports of its great net, this spider is called by the Malagasy

_Mampìta-hàdy_, or “fosse-crosser”; and these main lines are strong

enough to entangle small birds, for at the mission station at

Ambàtoharànana a cardinal-bird and a kingfisher were both caught in

these nets. The male spider is only about a quarter the size of the

female as just described, and, sad to say, he frequently is caught

and devoured by his affectionate spouse, after mating. Attempts have

been made, and with some success, to employ the silk made by this

spider in the manufacture of a woven fabric; but it is very doubtful

whether such silk could be procured in such quantities as to be of

commercial value.

[Sidenote: BUTTERFLIES AND MOTHS]

Silk from the silkworm moth is produced to a considerable extent,

and, as we have seen in speaking of native weaving, is employed in

manufacturing a variety of handsome _làmbas_. The moth is a large

and beautiful insect, with shades of buff and brown and yellow, and

with a large eye-like spot on the hind wings. The caterpillars are

fed on the leaves of the mulberry-trees and also on those of the

_tapia_ (_Chrysopia sp._) shrub. Another moth, somewhat like the

silk-producing one in colouring, has an extraordinary development of

the hind wings, which have long delicate tail-like appendages; these

have extremely narrow shafts and are enlarged at the ends. Their

points have two spiral twists or folds, very graceful in appearance.

There are four distinct eye-like spots near the centre of each

wing, which are light buff in colour, with lemon-yellow. The insect

measures eight and a half inches from shoulder to point of tail, and

eight inches across the upper wings. It is allied to _Tropæa leto_.

Some species of moth, very dark brown in colour, and yet beautifully

marked, often fly into our houses at night, the female being much

larger than the male. The Malagasy are afraid of seeing these almost

black-looking insects, which they call _lòlom-pàty_ (“death-moths”),

in their houses, as they think them presages of evil and death.

Another moth, with death’s-head marking on its thorax, is also often

seen. But the most beautiful of the Malagasy lepidoptera is a diurnal

moth, which one would always call a butterfly—viz. the _Urania

riphæa_, a large and lovely insect, with golden-green, crimson and

black markings, and edged all round its wings and tails with delicate

pure white. It is a curious fact that the nearest ally to this

Madagascar species is a native of Hayti and Cuba (_U. sloana_), a

remarkable instance of discontinuity of habitat. This fact, however,

has a parallel in the family of small insectivorous animals called

Centetidæ, which are also confined to Madagascar and some of the West

India islands. During 1899 this butterfly was unusually abundant,

while in some seasons it is seldom seen. At Isoàvina I noticed a

great many flying around the tall blue-gum trees in the dusk of the

evening. Great numbers also were seen at Ambòhimànga in the garden

there. They appeared to be intoxicated with the strong flavour of

the nectar from the loquat-trees, then in flower, so that almost

any quantity of them could have been captured in the early morning,

while still under the influence of the flowers, which have a powerful

scent of prussic acid. The Malagasy call it _Andrìandòlo_—_i.e._

“king-butterfly.”

In these bare upper highlands of Madagascar butterflies are not found

in as great variety as in the warmer regions of the island. Still

there are a few species which are common enough, the most plentiful

being one which is satiny-blue above and spotted with brown and

grey underneath. This is to be seen all the year round, especially

hovering over the euphorbia hedges which divide plantations from

the roads. Another, also tolerably common, is a large reddish-brown

butterfly, the wings edged with black and white. More rare is an

insect with four large round white spots on dark chocolate-brown

wings; and another, dark brown in colour, with eye-like spots of

blue and red. Several small species, yellow, white, or brown, or

silvery-grey and blue, are found hovering over, or settling on, damp

places; and there are two or three white species, with black spots

or lines on the edges of the wings. In the warmer season a handsome

large _Papilio_ is rather common in our gardens, with dark green and

sulphur-yellow spots and markings. The eggs of some of these are

beautiful objects in the microscope, being fluted and sculptured

like a Greek vase. My friend, M. Ch. Matthey, who has made large

collections of Madagascar insects, tells me that there are a few

cases of mimicry and dimorphism, especially the latter, among the

butterflies of the interior.

[Sidenote: GRASSHOPPERS, CRICKETS AND LOCUSTS]

On the open downs, and when the sun is shining, the air is filled

with the hum of chirping insect life from the many species of

grasshoppers, crickets and small locusts which cover the ground.

Every step among the long dry grass disturbs a score of these

insects, which leap in all directions from one’s path as we proceed,

sometimes dashing on one’s face with a smart blow. The majority of

these are of various shades of brown and green, and some of the

larger species of grasshopper are remarkable for their protective

colouring. Here is one whose legs and wings are exactly like dry

grass; the body is like a broad blade of some green plant, the

antennæ are two little tufts, like yellow grass, and the eyes

are just like two small brown seeds. But, curiously enough, when

it flies, a pair of bright scarlet wings make its flight very

conspicuous. You pursue it, to catch such a brightly coloured

insect, when it settles, and lo! it has vanished, only something

resembling green or dry grass remains, which it requires sharp eyes

to distinguish from the surrounding herbage. Other grasshoppers

are entirely like green grass blades and stalks, and others again

resemble, equally closely, dried grass; and unless the insects

move under one’s eyes it is almost impossible to detect them. One

is puzzled to guess where the vital organs can be placed in such

dry-looking little sticks. There is one species of mantis also,

which, in the shape and colour of its wings, legs, antennæ and

body, presents as close a resemblance to its environment as do the

grasshoppers. Their curious heads, however, which turn round and look

at one in quite an uncanny manner, and their formidably serrated fore

legs or arms, put up in mock pious fashion, give them a distinctly

different appearance from the other insects. In the dry and cooler

season on almost every square foot of ground is a large brown

caterpillar, often many of them close together, feeding on the young

blades of grass.

[Sidenote: PROTECTIVE RESEMBLANCE]

But the most handsome insect one sees on the downs is the

_Valàlanambòa_ or dog-locust. This is large and is gorgeously

coloured, the body being barred with stripes of yellow and black,

while the head and thorax are green and blue and gold, with shades of

crimson, and the wings are bright scarlet. It seems a most desirable

insect for a cabinet, but it is impossible to keep one, for it has

a most abominable smell, and this appears to be its protection, as

well as its probable possession of a nauseous taste, so that no

bird or other creature feeds upon it. This insect seems therefore

a good example of “warning colours”; it has no need of “protective

resemblance” lest it should be devoured by enemies; it can flaunt

its gay livery without fear, indeed this seems exaggerated in order

to say to outsiders, “Hands off!” “_Nemo me impune lacessit._” The

Malagasy have a proverb which runs thus: “_Valàlanambòa: ny tompony

aza tsy tia azy_”—_i.e._ “The dog-locust, even its owner dislikes it.”

On the Imèrina downs, and on the outskirts of the forest, there are

occasionally seen some enormous earthworms. These are about four

times the size, both in length and thickness, of those we see in

England; and when I first saw a small group of them they seemed more

like small serpents than worms. Darwin’s researches on the part

played by earthworms in the renewal of the soil have shown us what

a valuable work these humble creatures do for our benefit; and on a

morning after a little rain has fallen the grass here in Imèrina is

sometimes almost covered by the innumerable little mounds of fresh

earth brought up by worms, thus confirming what he has told us about

them.

[Illustration: TRANSPLANTING RICE

The women always do this. The men, on the left, are digging up and

working the clods into soft mud with long-handled spades]

The aspect of vegetation, except in the rice-fields, can hardly be

said to change much during the autumn months. A plant with pale

yellow flowers may be noticed by thousands in marshy grounds, giving

quite a mass of colour in many places. A significant name given to

autumn is _Ménàhitra_—_i.e._ “the grass is red”—that is, turning

brown.

WINTER: MAY, JUNE, JULY AND AUGUST.—As already mentioned in the

introductory sentences of the previous chapter, winter in central

Madagascar is very different from winter in England. We have no snow,

nor is there any native word for it, for even the highest peaks of

Ankàratra are too low for snow to fall on them; we never see ice

(although adventurous foreigners have once or twice seen a thin film

of it on pools on the highest hillsides); hoar-frost, however, is not

uncommon, and occasionally the leaves of some species of vegetables,

as well as those of the banana, turn black with the keen night air.

And since there is no rain during our Imèrina winter, the paths are

dry, and it is the best time for making long journeys, especially

as there is little to be feared from fever when going about at this

season of the year. Winter is therefore a pleasant time; the skies

are generally clear, the air is fresh and invigorating, and to the

cool and bracing temperature of the winter months is doubtless

largely due the health and strength which many Europeans enjoy for

years together in the central provinces of Madagascar.

The long period without rain at this season naturally dries up

the grass, and the hills and downs become parched and brown.

_Maìntàny_—_i.e._ “the earth is dry”—is one of the native names for

this season, and it is very appropriate to the condition of things

in general. The rice-fields lie fallow, affording a scanty supply of

grass for the cattle; and many short cuts can be made across them in

various directions, for the beaten track over embankments, great and

small, may be safely left for the dry and level plain.

[Sidenote: ANCIENT TOWNS]

In travelling about Imèrina, and indeed in the southern central

provinces as well, one cannot help noticing the evidences of ancient

towns and villages on the summits of a large number of the high

hills. These are not picturesque ruins, or remains of buildings, but

are the deep fosses cut in the hard red soil, often three or four,

one within the other, by which these old villages were defended.

These show very conspicuously from a great distance, and are from ten

to twenty feet deep; and as they are often of considerable extent

they must have required an immense amount of labour to excavate.

These elaborate fortifications are memorials of the “feudal period”

in central Madagascar, when almost every village had its petty chief

or _mpanjàka_, and when guns and gunpowder were still unknown. These

old places are now mostly abandoned for more convenient positions in

the plains or on the low rising grounds; and the fosses or _hàdy_ are

often capital hunting-grounds for ferns and other wild plants.

[Sidenote: HOVA TOMBS]

Perhaps more noticeable even than the old towns are the old tombs, as

well as more modern ones, which meet one’s eye in the neighbourhood

of every village. The Hova tombs are mostly constructed of rough

stonework, undressed and laid without mortar; they are square in

shape, from ten to twenty feet or more each way, and generally of

two or three stages of three to four feet high, diminishing in

size from the lowest. This superstructure surrounds and surmounts

a chamber formed of massive slabs of bluish-grey granitic rock,

partly sunk in the ground, and partly above it. In this chamber

are stone shelves, on which the corpses, wrapped in a number of

silk cloths or _làmba_, are laid. The tombs of wealthy people, as

well as those of high rank, are often costly structures of dressed

stonework, with cornices and carving; some are surmounted with an

open arcade, and have stone shafts to carry lightning conductors.

Within the last few years some large tombs have been made of burnt

brick (externally), although no change is made in the ancient style

of interior construction, with single stones for walls, roof, door

and shelves. Near some villages are a large number of these great

family tombs; and at one place, on the highroad from the present to

the old capital, a long row of such tombs, from thirty to forty in

all, may be seen. In many places a shapeless heap of stones, often

overshadowed by a _Fàno_ tree, resembling an acacia, marks a grave

of the Vazìmba, the earlier inhabitants of the country. These are

still regarded with superstitious dread and veneration by the people,

and offerings of rice, sugar-cane and other food are often placed on

them. The winter months are a favourite time for the native custom

of _famadìhana_—that is, of wrapping the corpses of their deceased

relatives in fresh silk cloths, as well as removing some of them

to a new tomb as soon as this is finished. These are quite holiday

occasions and times of feasting and, not infrequently, of much that

is evil in the way of drinking and licentiousness.

CHAPTER IX

AUTUMN AND WINTER

Other noticeable objects when travelling about the central provinces

are tall stones of rough undressed granite, from eight to twelve

feet high, called _Vàtolàhy_ (_i.e._ “Male stones”), which have been

erected in memory of some bygone worthy, or of some notable event,

now forgotten, and which often crown the top of prominent hills. They

are also sometimes memorials of those who went away to the wars of

olden times, and who never returned to their homes. In these cases a

square of small stones—at least three sides of one—is formed as part

of the memorial, as a kind of pseudo-tomb. These little enclosures

are from eight to ten feet square. A wonderful variety of lichens

is often to be seen on these tall stones—red, yellow, grey of many

shades, black, and pure white embroidering the rough stone. Some have

supposed, from the name of these memorials, that we have here a relic

of phallic worship.

[Sidenote: MARKETS]

A very prominent feature of the social life of the Malagasy is

the system of holding large open-air markets all over the central

province on the various days of the week. The largest of these

is naturally that held in the capital every Friday (Zomà), at

which probably from twenty thousand to thirty thousand people are

densely crowded together, and where almost everything grown or

manufactured in the province can be purchased. But two or three of

the other markets held within five or six miles of Antanànarìvo do

not fall far short of the Zomà market in size, especially those at

Asabòtsy (Saturday) to the north, and at Alàtsinainy (Monday) to the

north-east. To a stranger these great markets present a very novel

and interesting scene, and a good idea may be obtained as to what

can be purchased here by taking a stroll through them and noticing

their different sections. In one part are oxen and sheep, many of

which are killed in the morning, while the meat is cut up and sold

during the day; here are turkeys, geese, ducks and fowls by the

hundred; here are great heaps of rice, both in the husk, and either

partially cleaned, as “red rice,” or perfectly so, as “white rice”;

here are piles of brown locusts, heaps of minute red shrimps, and

baskets of snails, all used as “relishes” for the rice; here is

_màngahàzo_, or manioc root, both cooked and raw, as well as sweet

potatoes, earth-nuts, arum roots (_saonjo_) and many kinds of green

vegetables, and also capsicums, chillies and ginger. In another

quarter are the stalls for cottons and prints, sheetings and calicoes

from Europe, as well as native-made cloths of hemp, _rofìa_ fibre,

cotton and silk; and not far away are basketfuls and piles of snowy

or golden-coloured cocoons of native silk for weaving. Here is the

ironmongery section, where good native-made nails, rough hinges, and

locks and bolts, knives and scissors can be bought; and formerly

were the sellers of the neat little scales of brass or iron, with

their weights for weighing the “cut money,” which formed the small

change of the Malagasy before foreign occupation. (The five-franc

pieces were cut up in pieces of all shapes and sizes, so that buying

and selling were very tedious matters.) Then we come to the vendors

of the strong and cheap mats and baskets, made from the tough peel

of the _zozòro_ papyrus, and from various kinds of grass, often

with graceful interwoven patterns. Yonder a small forest of upright

pieces of wood points out the timber market, where beams and rafters,

joists and boarding can be purchased, as well as bedsteads, chairs

and doors. Not far distant from this is the place where large bundles

of _hèrana_ sedge, arranged in sheets or “leaves,” as the Malagasy

call them, for roofing, can be bought; and near these again are the

globular water-pots or _sìny_ for fetching and for storing water.

But it would occupy too much space to enumerate all the articles for

sale in an Imèrina market. Before the French occupation it was not

uncommon to see slaves exposed for sale, but happily that and slavery

are now things of the past.

[Sidenote: A NATIONAL ASSEMBLY]

In the old times of Malagasy independence there were few more

interesting scenes than that presented by a great national assembly

or _Kabàry_. These were summoned when new laws were made, or a new

government policy was announced, and also when war was imminent

with France, both in 1882 and again in 1895. On such occasions the

large triangular central space near the summit of the capital,

called Andohàlo, was filled with many thousands of people from early

morning. Lines of native troops kept open lanes for the advance of

the queen’s representative, generally the Prime Minister, who was

always attended by a number of officers in a variety of gorgeous

uniforms. At the eastern or highest portion of Andohàlo a place was

kept open for the royal messengers, whose approach was announced by

the firing of cannon. Taking his stand so as to be seen by the vast

assembly, the Prime Minister would draw his sword and commence the

proceedings by turning towards the palace and giving the word of

command for a royal salute, all the troops presenting arms, and all

the cannon round the upper portion of the city being fired. The next

officer in rank then took the word, and the troops all saluted the

Prime Minister, who stood bareheaded, acknowledging the respect due

to his high position. He then proceeded to give the royal message,

or read the new laws, often with a great deal of eloquence, for

the Malagasy are ready and clever speakers. At passages where the

national pride or patriotism was touched, much enthusiastic response

was often aroused, especially as each paragraph of the speech was

followed by a question: “_Fa tsy izày, va, ry ambànilànitra?_”

(“For is it not so, ye ‘under-the-heaven’?”) These questions

were replied to with shouts of “_Izày!_” (“It is so!”) from the

assembled multitude. But the greatest pitch of loyal enthusiasm was

generally evoked by the chiefs of the different tribes, as they, one

after another, replied to the queen’s message and gave assurances

of obedience and loyalty. Surrounded by a small group of their

fellow-clansmen, they would wind their _làmba_ round their waists,

brandish a spear, and at the conclusion of each part of their speech

they also demanded: “_Fa tsy izày va?_” And sometimes the whole

of the people would leap to their feet, the officers waving their

swords, the soldiers tossing up their rifles, and the people dancing

about in a perfect frenzy of excitement.

[Illustration: HOVA TOMBS CLOSED WITH HUGE STONE DOORS

The bare, rocky hills are characteristic of the interior of

Madagascar]

[Sidenote: STONE GATEWAYS]

We noticed just now the signs of the ancient villages and towns in

the central province; but something may be added here as to the

existing villages we see as we travel through it. The ancient towns

were, as we have seen, all built for safety on the top of hills, and

many of those now inhabited by the people are still so situated,

although in several districts the French authorities have obliged

them to leave the old sites and build their houses, with plenty of

space round each, on the sides of the newly made roads. But a good

number of the old style of village still remain, and it is these I

want to describe. They mostly have deep fosses, cut in the hard red

soil, surrounding them, about twenty to thirty feet across, and as

many feet deep, sometimes still deeper; and before guns and cannons

were brought into the country they must have formed very effective

defences against an enemy, especially as there is often a double or

even treble series of them. The gateways, sometimes three deep, are

formed of stone, often in large slabs, and instead of a gate a great

circular stone, eight or ten feet in diameter, was rolled across the

opening and was fitted into rough grooves on either side, and wedged

up with other stones inside the gate. I have slept in villages where

it was necessary to call several men before one could leave in the

morning, until they had answered our inquiry: “Who shall roll us

away the stone?” In these fosses, which are of course always damp,

with good soil, ferns and wild plants grow luxuriantly; and the

bottom forms a plantation in which peach, banana, guava and other

fruit trees are cultivated, as well as coffee, arums and a variety

of vegetables. Tall trees often grow there, so that these _hàdy_ or

fosses are often the prettiest feature of the village. It must be

added that the paths between and leading to the gateways are often

winding, and formed by a thick mass of prickly plants.

In some parts of the central provinces the villages have no deep

trenches round them, but they are protected by a dense and wide

plantation of prickly pear. The thick, fleshy, twisted stems, the

gaily tinted flowers, and even the fruits, are all armed with spines

and stinging hairs; and it is no easy matter to get rid of the minute

little needles, if they once get into one’s skin. So one sees that

a thick hedge of prickly pear was a very effectual defence against

enemies, especially since the people wore no shoes or any protection

for legs and feet. In many places, instead of prickly pear, the fence

round the village is made of _tsiàfakòmby_ (“impassable by cattle”),

a shrub with bright yellow flowers and full of hook-like prickles. In

some cases, instead of a door at the gateway, a number of short poles

are hung from a cross-piece at the top, which passes through a hole

in each of them; and one has to hold up two or three poles in order

to pass through.

Here, however, we are at last inside the village, and we see at once

that it is a very different place from an English village, with the

turnpike road passing through it, its trim houses and cottages, with

neat gardens and flower-beds, its grey old church, and its churchyard

with elms and yews overshadowing the graves.

[Sidenote: A MALAGASY VILLAGE]

There is nothing at all like this in our Malagasy village. There are

no streets intersecting it, and the houses are built without much

order, except in one point—namely, that they are almost all built

north and south, and that they have their single door and window

always on the west side, so as to be protected from the cold and

keen south-east winds which blow over Imèrina during a great part

of the year. The houses are mostly made of the hard red earth, laid

in courses of a foot or so high. They are chiefly of one storey and

of one room, but they generally have a floor in the roof, which is

used for cooking; and, if of good size, they are sometimes divided

into two rooms by rush and mat partitions. On the east of Imèrina,

near the forest, the houses are made of rough wooden framing, filled

up with bamboo or rush, and often plastered with cow-dung. In the

neighbourhood of the capital, and indeed in most places, the houses

are now often made of sun-dried bricks, in two storeys, with several

rooms, and often with tiled roofs.

[Illustration: FRIDAY MARKET AT ANTANÀNARÌVO

This was before the French Conquest. Note the different types of

houses, tiled and thatched]

Here and there throughout the province one comes across a village

which was formerly the capital of a petty kingdom, where we find

several strong and well-built timber houses. Such a place was

Ambòhitritankàdy (I say “was,” because it now no longer exists),

one of the villages in my mission district. It was on a high hill,

and in the centre of the village were ten large houses of massive

timber framing and with very high-pitched roofs, with long “horns”

at the gables, and these were arranged five on each side of a long

oblong space sunk a couple of feet below the ground. Here, in former

times, bull-fights took place, and various games and amusements were

carried on. One of the houses, where the chief himself resided, was

much larger than the rest, and the corner posts, as well as the

great central posts supporting the ridge, were very massive pieces

of timber. It was all in one great room, without any partitions, the

whole being well floored with wood, and the walls covered with

fine mats. Similar houses might be seen at most of the chief towns

of Imèrina; but the house I have just described was the largest and

finest of any, not excepting those in the capital and at Ambòhimànga.

Sad to say, except at these two places, where two ancient timber

houses at the first one, and one at the other, are still preserved

as a kind of curiosity, almost all these fine structures have been

demolished in order to get well-seasoned timber for furniture and

buildings. They have been superseded by much less picturesque, but

perhaps more comfortable as well as cheaper, houses of sun-dried or

burnt brick.

There is no privacy or retirement about the houses in the village,

no back-yard or outbuildings, although occasionally low walls make

a kind of enclosure around some of them. Here and there among the

houses are square pits, four or five feet deep, and eight or ten feet

square, called fàhitra. These are pens for the oxen, which are kept

in them to be fattened, formerly especially for the national festival

of the New Year. As may be supposed, these are very dirty places,

and in the wet season are often just pools of black mud; indeed the

village, as a whole, is anything but neat and clean. All sorts of

rubbish and filth accumulate; there are no sanitary arrangements;

frequently the cattle used to be penned for the night in a part of

the village, and the cow-dung made it very muddy in wet weather,

and raised clouds of stifling dust when it was dry. Frequently the

cow-dung is collected and made into circular cakes of six or eight

inches diameter, which are then stuck on the walls of the houses to

dry. This is used as fuel for burning; and splitting off large slabs

of gneiss rock, which are employed by the people in making their

tombs.

In the centre of the village may often be seen the large family tomb

of the chief man of the place, the owner of much of the land and many

of the neighbouring rice-fields. If he is an andrìana, or of noble

birth, the stonework is surmounted by a small wooden house, with

thatched or shingled roof, and a door, but no window. This is called

_tràno màsina_, “sacred house,” or _tràno manàra_, “cold house,”

because it has no hearth or fire.

Seen from a distance, these Malagasy villages often look very pretty

and picturesque, for “distance lends enchantment to the view.” Round

some of them tall trees, called _àviàvy_, a species of _ficus_, grow,

which are something like an English elm in appearance. In others one

or two great _amòntana_ trees may be seen; these are also a species

of fig-tree, and have large and glossy leaves. The _amòntana_ is

evergreen, while the _àviàvy_ is deciduous. A beautiful tree, called

_zàhana_, is also common, with hundreds of pink flowers and sweetish

fruit like a pea-pod. In the fosses is often seen the _amìana_, a

tall tree-nettle, with large deeply cut and velvety leaves with

stinging hairs. Many kinds of shrubs often make the place gay with

flowers, especially in the hot season.

[Sidenote: HOVA CHILDREN]

But what are the Hova children like? How are they dressed? And what

do they play at? They are brown-skinned, some very light olive in

colour, and some much darker. As a rule they have little clothing;

perhaps some of the boys may have a straw hat, but no shoes or

stockings, and they are often dirty and little cared for. On Sundays

and on special occasions the girls are often dressed in print frocks,

and the boys in jackets of similar material, and with a clean white

calico _làmba_ overall; but on weekdays a small _làmba_ of soiled

and coarse hemp cloth often forms almost their only clothing. Of

course the children of well-to-do people are sometimes very nicely

dressed, although they too often go about in a rather dirty fashion.

I am here, however, speaking of the majority of the children one

sees, those of the poorer children of a village.[10] One day some of

us went for a ride to a village about two miles from Ambòhimànga.

A number of children followed us about as we collected ferns in a

_hàdy_, and, as a group of seven or eight of them sat near us, we

calculated that the value of all they had on would not amount to one

shilling!

Poor children! they have little advantages compared with English boys

and girls, and they have few amusements. They sometimes play at a

game which is very like our “fox and geese”; the boys spin peg-tops

and play at marbles; the little children make figures of oxen and

birds, etc., out of clay; the boys are fond of a game resembling

the lassoing of wild oxen, by trying to catch their companions

by throwing a noose over them; and the big boys have a rough and

violent game called _mamèly dìa mànga_, in which they try to throw

an opponent down by kicking backward at each other, with the sole of

the foot, which is darted out almost as high as their heads. Ribs

are sometimes broken by a violent kick. Perhaps the most favourite

amusement of Malagasy children is to sit in parties out of doors on

fine moonlight nights and sing away for hours some of the monotonous

native chants, accompanying them with regular clapping of hands.

In about a fourth of these villages, where there are churches, a

mission day school is still carried on, and here may be seen, if we

look in, a number of bright-looking children repeating their _a_,

_b_, _d_ (not _c_), reading and writing, doing sums, learning a

little grammar and geography, and being taught their catechism, and

something about the chief facts and truths of the Bible. And perhaps

there is no more pleasant sight in Madagascar than one of the larger

chapels on the annual examination day, filled with children from the

neighbouring villages, all dressed in their best, eager to show their

knowledge, and pleased to get the Bible or Testament or hymn-book or

other prize given to those who have done well.

[Sidenote: GLORIOUS SUNSETS]

A few words may be said here about the aspect of the heavens in

Imèrina, especially at evening and night. We are highly favoured

in having sunsets of wonderful beauty; the western sky burns with

molten gold, orange and crimson; and as the sun nears the horizon,

the ruddy landscape to the east is lighted up more and more intensely

every moment with glowing colour, the natural hue of the soil being

heightened by the horizontal rays; the distant lines of hill, range

after range, are bathed in every shade of purple light, and the long

lines of red clay walls glow like vermilion in the setting sunshine.

How often have we watched this glorious display of light and colour,

and thanked God for this beautiful world!

But the nights, especially near the time of full moon, are also very

enjoyable. The moon appears more brilliant and her light more intense

than in England; it is a delight to be out of doors and to walk in

the fresh bracing air, and to have the rough paths illuminated for us

by the silvery radiance, which gives a picturesque beauty to the most

commonplace objects and scenes.

Perhaps the starlit skies of the evenings of the summer months are

the most beautiful of all the year. At this season some of the

finest of the northern constellations are seen at the same time as

several of the southerly ones. The Great Bear stretches over the

northern sky; higher up is the Northern Crown; the Pleiades,[11] and

Orion with his many brilliant neighbours, are overhead; the Southern

Cross, with its conspicuous “pointers” in the Centaur, is high in the

southern heavens; and the Magellan Clouds are clearly seen nearer

the horizon; and all across the firmament is the Galaxy, or, as the

Malagasy call it, the _èfi-taona_, “the division,” or “separation

of the year.” And then, as the circling year revolves, the great

serpentine curve of Scorpio appears, and Sirius, Capella, Canopus,

and many another glorious lamp of heaven light up the midnight sky

with their flashing radiance.

[Sidenote: TEMPERATURE]

The month of August, the closing one in this review of the year,

is often the coldest month of all, cold, that is, for a country

within the tropics. All through August the keen south-eastern trades

generally blow strong, and although in sheltered places the afternoon

sun may be quite warm, the mornings and evenings are very cold, and

during the night the mercury will often descend to very near the

freezing-point. The mornings are frequently misty; on some days

there are constant showers of _èrika_ or drizzly rain, alternating

with bright sunny days and clear skies; these latter seem the very

perfection of weather, bracing and health-giving. But this cold

weather often brings disease to the Malagasy, especially a kind of

malarial fever, which sometimes attacks great numbers of them, and

also brings affections of the throat and chest, to which many fall

victims. At such times their thin cotton clothing seems ill adapted

for protection against the climate. This circumstance has often

struck me as showing how difficult it is to change the habits of a

people; for centuries past the Hova have lived in this cool highland

region, yet, until very lately, few comparatively have made much

change in their dress, which was well enough adapted for the purely

tropical region from which they originally came, but very unfitted

for the cool air of the winter months of a country about five

thousand feet above sea-level.

[Illustration: AN ANCIENT VILLAGE GATEWAY

A tall palanquin bearer is in front, showing by comparison the height

of the gateway. A native wooden house with high-pitched _hèrana_

thatched roof is shown, and a group of natives]

The great rice-plain to the west of the capital and all the broader

valleys still lie fallow, although in various places extensive sheets

of water show that irrigation is commencing. In the lesser valleys

and at the edge of the larger rice-plains the landscape is enlivened

by the bright green of the _kètsa_ grounds, where, as already

described, the rice is sown broadcast before transplanting into the

larger fields.

[Sidenote: TREES]