Having skinned the leopard and cut off as much of the buffalo meat as we
could carry, we started for the negro village at a round pace, for we
had already lost much time in our last adventure. As we walked along I
could not help meditating on the uncertainty of this life, and the
terrible suddenness with which we might at any unexpected moment be cut
off. These thoughts led me naturally to reflect how important a matter
it is that every one, no matter how young, should be in a state of
preparedness to quit this world.
I also reflected, and not without a feeling of shame, on my want of
nerve, and was deeply impressed with the importance of boys being inured
from childhood to trifling risks and light dangers of every possible
description, such as tumbling into ponds and off trees, etcetera, in
order to strengthen their nervous system. I do not, of course, mean to
say that boys ought deliberately to tumble into ponds or climb trees
until they fall off; but they ought not to avoid the risk of such
mishaps. They ought to encounter such risks and many others
perpetually. They ought to practise leaping off heights into deep
water. They ought never to hesitate to cross a stream on a narrow
unsafe plank _for fear of a ducking_. They ought never to decline to
climb up a tree to pull fruit merely because there is a _possibility_ of
their falling off and breaking their necks. I firmly believe that boys
were intended to encounter all kinds of risks, in order to prepare them
to meet and grapple with the risks and dangers incident to man's career
with cool, cautious self-possession--a self-possession founded on
experimental knowledge of the character and powers of their own spirits
and muscles. I also concluded that this reasoning applies to some
extent to girls as well as boys, for they too are liable through life to
occasional encounters with danger--such as meeting with mad bulls, being
run away with on horseback, being upset in boats, being set on fire by
means of crinoline; in all of which cases those who have been trained to
risk slight mishaps during early life will find their nerves equal to
the shock, and their minds cool and collected enough to look around and
take hasty advantage of any opportunity of escape that may exist; while
those who have been unhappily nurtured in excessive delicacy, and
advised from the earliest childhood to "take care of themselves and
carefully avoid all risks," will probably fall victims to their nervous
alarms and the kind but injudicious training of parents or guardians.
The more I pondered this subject the more deeply impressed did I become
with its great importance to the well-being of mankind, and I was so
profoundly engrossed with it that my companions utterly failed to engage
me in general conversation as we walked briskly along through the
forest. Jack again and again attempted to draw my attention to the
splendour of the curious specimens of tropical foliage and vegetation
through which we passed; but I could not rouse myself to take interest
therein. In vain did Peterkin jest and rally me, and point out the
monkeys that grinned at us ever and anon as we passed beneath them, or
the serpents that glided more than once from our path, I was fascinated
with my train of meditation, and as I could not then give it up until I
had thought it out, so now I cannot pass from the subject until I have
at least endeavoured to guard myself from misconception.
I beg, then, that it will be understood that I do not by any means
inculcate hare-brained recklessness, or a course of training that will
foster that state of mind. On the contrary, the course of training
which I should like to see universally practised would naturally tend to
counteract recklessness, for it would enable a boy to judge correctly as
to what he could and could not do. Take an illustration. A naturally
bold boy has been unwisely trained to be exceedingly careful of himself.
He does not know the extent of his own courage, or the power and
agility of his own muscles; he knows these things to some extent indeed,
but owing to restraint he does not know them fully. Hence he is liable
both to over and under estimate them.
This bold boy--we shall call him Tom--takes a walk into the country with
a friend, whom we shall name Pat. Pat is a bad boy, but he has been
permitted to train his muscles as he pleased, and his natural
disposition has led him to do difficult and sometimes slightly dangerous
things.
"You can't jump over that river, Tom," says Pat.
"Perhaps not," replies Tom: "I never tried such a jump, because my
mother tells me never to go where I am likely to tumble into the water."
"Oh, your mother's a muff!" cries Pat.
"Pat," says Tom, flushing with indignation and confronting his friend,
"don't you ever say that again, else the friendship between you and me
will come to an end. I know you don't really mean what you say; but I
won't allow you to speak disrespectfully of my mother."
"Well, I won't," says Pat, "but _you're_ a muff, anyhow."
"Perhaps I am," replies Tom.
"Of course you are, because you're afraid to jump over that river, and
I'm not. So here goes."
Pat thereupon jumps the river (he is a splendid leaper), and Tom
hesitates.
"Come along, Tom; don't be a hen."
Tom gives way, alas! to a disobedient impulse, and dashing at the leap
comes to the edge, when he finds, somehow, that he has not got the
proper foot first for the spring--almost every boy knows the feeling I
allude to; his heart fails, and he balks.
"O Tom, what a nimini-pimini muff you are, to be sure!"
Tom, as I have said, is a bold boy. His blood boils at this; he rushes
wildly at the bank, hurls himself recklessly into the air, barely
reaches the opposite side with a scramble, and falls souse into the
river, from which he issues, as Pat says amid peals of laughter, "like a
half-drowned rat."
Now, had Tom been permitted to follow the bent of his own bold impulses,
he would have found out, years ago, how far and how high he could leap,
and how far exactly he could depend on his own courage in certain
circumstances; and he would either, on the one hand, have measured the
leap with an accustomed eye, and declined to take it with a
good-humoured admission that it was beyond his powers, or, on the other
hand, he would calmly have collected his well and oft tried energies for
the spring. The proper foot, from long experience, would have come to
the ground at the right time. His mind, freed from all anxiety as to
what he could accomplish, would have received a beneficial impulse from
his friend's taunt. No nervous dread of a ducking would have checked
the completeness of his bound, because he would have often been ducked
before, and would have discovered that in most cases, if the clothes be
changed at once, a ducking is not worth mentioning--from a hydropathic
point of view is, in fact, beneficial--and he would have cleared the
river with comfort to himself and confusion to his friend, and without a
ducking or the uneasiness of conscience caused by the knowledge that he
had disobeyed his mother. Had Peterkin not been trained to encounter
danger, his natural boldness alone would never have enabled him to stand
the charge of that buffalo bull.
There are muffs in this world. I do not refer to those hairy articles
of female apparel in which ladies are wont to place their hands,
handkerchiefs, and scent-bottles. Although not given to the use of
slang, I avail myself of it on this occasion, the word "muff" being
eminently expressive of a certain class of boys, big as well as little,
old as well as young. There are three distinct classes of boys--namely,
muffs, sensible fellows, and boasters. I say there are three distinct
classes, but I do not say that every boy belongs to one or other of
those classes. Those who have studied chemistry know that nature's
elements are few. Nearly all kinds of matter, and certainly all
varieties of mind, are composite. There are no pure and simple muffs.
Most boasters have a good deal of the muff in them, and many muffs are
boasters; while sensible fellows are occasionally tinged with a dash of
both the bad qualities--they are, if I may be allowed to coin a word,
_sensible-boasto-muffers_! Still, for the sake of lucidity, I will
maintain that there are three distinct phases of character in boys.
The muff is a boy who from natural disposition, or early training, or
both, is mild, diffident, and gentle. So far he is an estimable
character. Were this all, he were not a muff. In order to deserve that
title he must be timid and unenthusiastic. He must refuse to venture
anything that will subject him to danger, however slight. He must be
afraid of a shower of rain; afraid of dogs in general, good and bad
alike; disinclined to try bold things; indifferent about learning to
swim. He must object to the game called "dumps," because the blows from
the ball are sometimes severe; and be a sworn enemy to single-stick,
because the whacks are uncommonly painful. So feeling and acting, he
will, when he becomes a man, find himself unable to act in the common
emergencies of life--to protect a lady from insolence, to guard his
house from robbery, or to save his own child should it chance to fall
into the water. The muff is addicted to boasting sometimes, especially
when in the company of girls; but when on the playground he hangs on the
skirts of society, and sings very small. There are many boys, alas! who
are made muffs by injudicious training, who would have grown up to be
bold, manly fellows had they been otherwise treated. There are also
many kinds of muffs. Some are good-hearted, amiable muffs; others are
petty, sneaking muffs.
With many of the varieties I have a strong sympathy, and for their
comfort I would say that muffs may cure themselves if they choose to try
energetically.
Courage and cowardice are not two distinct and entirely antagonistic
qualities. To a great extent those qualities are the result of
training. Every courageous man has a slight amount of cowardice in his
composition, and all cowards have a certain infusion of courage. The
matador stands before the infuriated bull, and awaits its charge with
unflinching firmness, not because he has more courage than his comrades
in the ring who run away, but because long training has enabled him to
make almost certain of killing the bull. He knows what he has done
before, he feels that he can do it again, therefore he stands like a
hero. Were a doubt of his capacity to cross his mind for an instant,
his cheek would blanch, his hand would tremble, and, ten to one, he
would turn and flee like the rest.
Let muffs, therefore, learn to swim, to leap, and to run. Let them
wrestle with boys bigger than themselves, regardless of being thrown.
Let them practise "jinking" with their companions, so that if even they
be chased by a mad bull, they will, if unable to get out of his way by
running, escape perhaps by jinking. Let them learn to leap off
considerable heights into deep water, so that, if ever called on to leap
off the end of a pier or the side of a ship to save a fellow-creature,
they may do so with confidence and promptitude. Let them even put on
"the gloves," and become regardless of a swelled nose, in order that
they may be able to defend themselves or others from sudden assault. So
doing they will become sensible fellows, whose character I have thus to
some extent described. Of course, I speak of sensible fellows only with
reference to this one subject of training the nerves and muscles. Let
it never be forgotten that there are men who, although sensible in this
respect, are uncommonly senseless in regard to other things of far
higher moment.
As to boasters, I will dismiss them with a few words. They are too
easily known to merit particular description. They are usually loud and
bold in the drawing-room, but rather mild in the field. They are
desperately egotistical, fond of exaggeration, and prone to depreciate
the deeds of their comrades. They make bad soldiers and sailors, and
are usually held in contempt by others, whatever they may think of
themselves. I may wind up this digression--into which I have been
tempted by an earnest desire to warn my fellow-men against the errors of
nervous and muscular education, which, in my case, led to the weak
conduct of which I had been guilty that day--I may wind up this
digression, I say, by remarking that the boys who are most loved in this
world are those who are lambs, _almost_ muffs, in the drawing-room, but
lions in the field.
How long I should have gone on pondering this subject I know not, but
Peterkin somewhat rudely interrupted me by uttering a wild scream, and
beginning to caper as if he were a madman. I was much alarmed as well
as surprised at this course of conduct; for although my friend was an
inveterate joker, he was the very reverse of what is termed a buffoon,
and never indulged in personally grotesque actions with a view to make
people laugh--such as making faces, a practice which, in ninety-nine
cases out of a hundred, causes the face-makers to look idiotical rather
than funny, and induces beholders to pity them, and to feel very
uncomfortable sensations.
Peterkin's yells, instead of ceasing, continued and increased.
"Why, what's wrong?" I cried, in much alarm.
Instead of answering, Peterkin darted away through the wood like a
maniac, tearing off his clothes as he went. At the same moment Jack
began to roar like a bull, and became similarly distracted. It now
flashed across me that they must have been attacked by an army of the
Bashikouay ant, a species of ant which is so ferocious as to prove a
perfect scourge to the parts of the country over which it travels. The
thought had scarcely occurred to me when I was painfully convinced of
its accuracy. The ants suddenly came to me, and in an instant I was
covered from head to foot by the passionate creatures, which hit me so
severely that I also began to scream and to tear off my garments; for I
had been told by the trader who accompanied us to this part of the
country that this was the quickest method of getting rid of them.
We all three fled, and soon left the army of Bashikouay ants behind us,
undressing, as we ran, in the best way we could; and when we at length
came to a halt we found ourselves almost in a state of nudity. Hastily
divesting ourselves of the remainder of our apparel, we assisted each
other to clear away the ants, though we could not rid ourselves of the
painful effects of the bites with which we were covered.
"What dreadful villains!" gasped Peterkin, as he busied himself in
hastily picking off the furious creatures from his person.
"It would be curious to observe the effect of an army of soldiers
stepping into an army of Bashikouays," said Jack. "They would be routed
instantly. No discipline or courage could hold them together for two
minutes after they were attacked."
I was about to make some reply, when our attention was attracted by a
shout at no great distance, and in a few seconds we observed, to our
confusion, the trader and a band of negroes approaching us. We hurried
on our clothes as rapidly as possible, and were a little more
presentable when they arrived. They had a good laugh at us, of course,
and the naked blacks seemed to be much tickled with the idea that we had
been compelled to divest ourselves, even for a short time, of what they
considered our unnecessary covering.
"We thought you were lost," said the trader, "and I began to blame
myself for letting you away into the woods, where so many dangers may be
encountered, without a guide. But what have you got there? meat of some
kind? Your guns seem to have done service on this your first
expedition."
"Ay, that they have," answered Jack. "We've killed a buffalo bull, and
if you send your black fellows back on our track for some hours they'll
come to the carcass, of which we could not, of course, bring very much
away on our shoulders, which are not accustomed yet to heavy loads."
"Besides," added Peterkin, "we were anxious to get back in time for your
elephant-hunt, else we should have brought more meat with us. But Jack
has not mentioned what I consider our chief prize, the honour of
shooting which belongs to my friend Ralph Rover.--Come, Ralph, unfasten
your pack and let them see it."
Although unwilling to put off more time, I threw down my pack, and
untying it, displayed my leopard skin. The shout of delight and
surprise which the sight of it drew from the negroes was so enthusiastic
that I at once perceived I was considered to have secured a great prize.
"Why, Mr Rover, you're in luck," said the trader, examining the skin;
"it's not every day that one falls in with such a fine leopard as that.
And you have already made a reputation as a daring hunter, for the
niggers consider it a bold and dangerous thing to attack these critters;
they're so uncommon fierce."
"Indeed I do not by any means deserve such a reputation," said I,
refastening my pack, "for the shot was entirely accidental; so I pray
you, good sir, to let the negroes know that, as I have no desire to go
under a false flag, as my friend Peterkin would say--"
"Go under a false flag!" exclaimed Peterkin, in contempt. "Sail under
false colours, man! That's what you should have said. Whatever you do,
Ralph, never misquote a man. Go under a false flag! ha, ha! Why, you
might just as well have said, `progress beneath assumed bunting.'"
"Well, accidental or otherwise," said the trader, "you've got credit for
the deed, and your fame will be spread among the tribe whether you will
or not; for these fellows are such incorrigible liars themselves that
they will never believe you if you tell them the shot was accidental.
They will only give you credit for some strange though unknown motive in
telling such a falsehood."
While the trader was speaking I observed that the negroes were talking
with the eager looks and gesticulations that are peculiar to the
Africans when excited, and presently two or three of them came forward
and asked several questions, while their eyes sparkled eagerly and their
black faces shone with animation as they pointed into the woods in the
direction whence we had come.
"They want to know where you have left the carcass of the leopard, and
if you have taken away the brains," said the trader, turning to me. "I
daresay you know--if not you'll soon come to find out--that all the
nigger tribes in Africa are sunk in gross and cruel superstitions. They
have more fetishes, and greegrees, and amulets, and wooden gods, and
charms, than they know what to do with, and have surrounded themselves
with spiritual mysteries that neither themselves nor anybody else can
understand. Among other things, they attach a very high value to the
brains of the leopard, because they imagine that he who possesses them
will be rendered extraordinarily bold and successful in hunting. These
fellows are in hopes that, being ignorant of the value of leopard
brains, you have left them in the carcass, and are burning with anxiety
to be off after them."
"Poor creatures!" said I, "they are heartily welcome to the brains; and
the carcass lies not more than four hours' march from this spot, I
should think,--Is it not so, Jack?"
My friend nodded assent, and the trader, turning to the expectant crowd
of natives, gave them the information they desired. No sooner had he
finished than with loud cries they turned and darted away, tossing their
arms wildly in the air, and looking more like to a band of scared
monkeys than to human beings.
"They're queer fellows," remarked Peterkin.
"So they are," replied the trader, "and they're kindly fellows too--
jovial and good-humoured, except when under the influence of their
abominable superstitions. Then they become incarnate fiends, and commit
deeds of cruelty that make one's blood run cold to think of."
I felt much saddened by these remarks, and asked the trader if the
missionaries accomplished any good among them.
"Oh yes," he replied, "they do much good, such of them at least as
really are missionaries; for it does not follow that every one who wears
a black coat and white neck-cloth, and goes abroad, is a missionary.
But what can a few men scattered along the coast here and there, however
earnest they be, do among the thousands upon thousands of savages that
wander about in the interior of Africa? No good will ever be done in
this land, to any great extent, until traders and missionaries go hand
in hand into the interior, and the system of trade is entirely
remodelled."
"From what you remark," said I, feeling much interested, "I should
suppose that you have given this subject a good deal of attention."
"I have. But there are people in this world who, supposing that because
I am a trader I am therefore prone to exalt trade to an equality with
religion, do not give me credit for disinterestedness when I speak.
Perhaps you are one of these."
"Not I, in truth," said I, earnestly. "My chief desire in conversing
with mankind is to acquire knowledge; I therefore listen with attention
and respect to the opinions of others, instead of endeavouring to assert
my own. In the present instance, being ignorant, I have no opinions to
assert."
"I wish there were more people in your country," replied the trader,
"who felt as you do. I would tell them that, although a trader, I
regard the salvation of men's souls as the most important work in this
world. I would argue that until you get men to listen, you cannot
preach the gospel to them; that the present system of trade in Africa is
in itself antagonistic to religion, being based upon dishonesty, and
that, therefore, the natives will not listen to missionaries--of course,
in some cases they will; for I believe that the gospel, when truly
preached, is never preached in vain--but they will throw every possible
impediment in their way. I would tell them that in order to make the
path of the missionary practicable, the system of trade must be
inverted, the trader and the missionary must go hand in hand, and
commerce and religion--although incomparably different in their nature
and ends--must act the part of brother and sister if anything _great_ is
to be done for the poor natives of Africa."
Conversing thus we beguiled the time pleasantly while we proceeded
rapidly on our way, for the day was drawing to a close, and we were
still at a considerable distance from the native village.