When standing on the lofty height overlooking Lake Itasy, we looked to

the north and west over a large number of strange hills. Mr. Sewell had

said that in his judgment, old volcanoes were to be found in this

neighbourhood: and it was clear to us as we stood on this commanding

position together, that the craters were before us. One of them, named

Ambóhitrondry, was of great height and width; outside it on the east was

a second, nearly circular; and a third hung on to that. Beyond these to

the north were two craters of moderate size, one of them double. And

beyond these again numerous others. Some were hollow craters; others

were cones of beautiful shape: and all were richly clothed with grass.

At our second station nearer the lake we were close to a lofty crater

called, Mángaháfa, and could look into it. Behind Moratsiázo was

another, Isáhadimy: and to the west of this, another Támpóly, with a

fine figure of a sleeping lion at the top. All these we carefully noted,

and placed in our maps.

The district on which they stand lies immediately west of Lake Itasy:

and it struck us that the eruption of these volcanoes, by elevating the

land, had barred the way of the original river, had submerged the level

plain through which it flowed, and formed the Lake. The waters must have

been high, until they found an outlet on the north and west in the

channel of the present stream.

Passing on to our next resting-place, the town of Mahatsinjo, we went

under the slopes of Ambóhitrondry and crossed two lines of lava which

had streamed from it in its active days. A short distance on we passed

through a cutting in the lava stream: which had a depth of twenty feet.

To the south of this cutting we had four grassy cones, and at their foot

a small lake, Kazanga, a mile long and half a mile broad. Three streams

run into it from the east and south; its outlet is on the west, where

the water has cut its way through a thick bed of lava pebbles. On the

following day we ascended a lofty hill, a little to the north of

Mahatsinjo, named Ambóhimailála, and found that it was a lava cone. It

gave us a fine prospect of the country. There were other cones and

craters to the north, amongst which was Gasgea, one of the noblest in

the group. And on a lower level of the land, were several others, of

which, later in the day, we visited two, perfectly circular craters,

with dirty greenish lakes at the bottom. On continuing our journey to

the south, we passed several others. Altogether we counted forty cones

and craters in this district of which we were sure. Some were of

enormous size, with lofty walls, conspicuous for many miles: others were

small. Many were of horse-shoe shape: a few were circular. There were

numerous little lakes and bowls among them: of which the largest was

Lake Kazanga, which we believe no Englishmen have seen hitherto. The

country is strewn with lava. Here and there it appears in huge blocks

and its pieces are heavy: or it lies in layers, at times perfectly even,

at times twisted like dough. Vast quantities have the little crystals of

olivine in their tiny cells. The spongy lava and pumice have

disappeared. The colour of the lava was in some masses a bright black:

in others a pale lead colour: all over this district brown earth and mud

are abundant: and they form a soil very different from the gritty red

clay, the common soil of the island. Here and there we saw conical heaps

of these lava stones, piled up by the people, who attach to them a

superstitious reverence. We saw more of the volcanic system at a later

period in this journey.

MAHATSINJO we found to be no common town. It stands on a spur of a long

clay ridge, the upper part of which is overlaid by the lava; and is a

place of some importance. It contains three hundred houses, many of them

large and built of wood with reed-panels. The houses stand on “terrace

upon terrace” cut into the slope of the hill. The rova or government

house is a substantial dwelling. The population is unusually numerous,

and reaches to probably eighteen hundred: we were told there were in the

place a thousand children. As with their neighbours in this Mandridrano

district, the people are well to do in the world: their cattle are

numerous and rice and corn are cheap. Below Mahatsinjo on the south

stretches a wide and level rice valley, supplied with abundance of

water: the whole is under careful cultivation and its volcanic soil must

produce enormous crops.

The town occupies an important position. Far richer in resources than

Miádanamanjáka, it is the real capital of the Mándridráno district: it

is surrounded by cultivated fields and has near it numerous villages.

Indeed the district seems to have gathered a population of its own,

settled in its choicest spots, and very much separated from their

neighbours in Imamo. It illustrates the way in which Madagascar (even

yet but partially occupied) has been peopled, and in which the various

sections of one race have grown up independently of one another. There

is abundance of Christian work to be done in the district, and

Mahatsinjo will prove an admirable centre for that work, with several

sub-centres around it. Mr. Sewell felt with us that it would be well

worth while for the Friends to place an English missionary here. The

people gave us a warm welcome: they eagerly attended Mr. Sewell’s Bible

classes and services: and earnestly requested that one of us would stay

and live amongst them.

Behind the hill on which Mahatsinjo stands is another broad level,

covered with rice fields, and having many little clusters of houses

(like the Betsileo válás) dotting its surface and the roots of its

bordering hills; and in their midst the little town of Ambálaváto. This

level lies below the Imerina plain and forms part of the first terrace

toward the west. With it the population comes to an end: for one day’s

journey beyond scattered houses may be found; then for three days a

traveller must sleep in tents and carry his supplies with him. The

district reached is a veritable Noman’s land, with the Sakalava tribes

on the farther side. The severity of their ancient raids upon Hova crops

and Hova cattle has prevented quiet people from attempting to occupy the

vacant territory. From the lofty heights of Ambóhimailála, we looked for

more than twenty miles across the plains of red clay. They were deeply

cut and scored with little valleys: and at a distance were long and

lofty ridges running north and south. One of these Bóngoláva (“long

heaps”) denoting a long ridge with numerous boulders, is said to be

visible from the west coast: and three lofty peaks, Ampanána, Sapila,

and Ivohibe, form conspicuous landmarks for recording the geography of

this region.

Both at Mahatsinjo and farther south, we heard much of an important town

on the farther side of Noman’s Land, named Mánandáza (“the glorious”).

It was described to us as a place as large as Mahatsinjo and as

populous. It is among the friendly Sákalávas, and is occupied by a Hova

garrison. “A good traveller may reach it in five days: a man driving

cattle will take a week.” This would indicate that the distance from

Mahatsinjo must be about seventy miles. Judging from our later journeys

I should imagine that the town will be found on one of the rivers

running from here to the westward, (probably on the Kitsamby) at the

point where it quits the hills to cross the lower plains to the sea. It

must be seventy miles from the west coast. There is a large church in

the town: and the Hova Christians have one excellent preacher among

them. Few of the Sakalavas are Christians.

After spending several pleasant days in this district, on Wednesday,

April 22d, we turned southward, with a view to visit the mission station

of Antoby and thence go on to Betafo. Hitherto we had travelled to a

large extent along the line of the Imerina valleys. Now we were to cross

them; and as they run out from Ankárat westward, are numerous and often

deep, we had rather a wearisome time until we had passed over the clay

country and had left it behind us. We passed many noble hills on the

way. Vinany, a grand towering hill of gneiss, proved an excellent

observing station and gave us a fine prospect of the country. Under

another noble hill, Antsárabé, the river Kitsamby comes down from the

roots of Tsi-áfakáfo. We found it a fine stream; two hundred feet broad,

three and a half feet deep, with a current of two and a half miles an

hour: the water was thick and brown with clay. Looking up stream we saw

that the river flows through a fine gorge between lofty ridges. To the

west it passes over rapids at the foot of a gneiss hill, and far out on

the plains, it receives the waters of several streams and then flows

round the south end of the great ridge of Sapilá fifteen miles away.

Climbing again to the level of the plain, up a long basin beautifully

cut out of the clay, we crossed successively the Sahomby, which flows

out from the Lake of Vinánynóny: then other small streams: then the

Sáhasáhatra which drains the north side of the Vava Vato; a rapid river,

a hundred feet broad, which has cut through everything to the primitive

rock. A lofty hill, Ambohitrolona, gave us a fine prospect of the

Kitsamby river and the western plains: and brought under our eye the

first of the Hova military stations, under the Sapila range. Another

river of clear, sparkling water, the Nangalána, next crossed our road;

followed by a smaller stream deeply coloured with clay: when, tired with

our three days’ climbing up and down these numerous valleys we safely

reached the ANTOBY Mission-house, on Friday afternoon.

The kind welcome of our friends Mr. and Mrs. Clemes soon made us forget

our troubles: and with quiet Sabbath services we enjoyed in a double way

a sense of rest. There is no town at Antoby. The Mission is planted in

the midst of small villages, and has many others of greater or less

importance at various distances, as out-stations. We had already passed

several of these and saw others during our visit. At the same time we

thought that the sphere of labour is a limited one; the working of it

involves a great deal of toil: and it is only peculiar circumstances,

that suggested the position and that are best controlled by an English

missionary’s personal influence, which justify the appropriation of a

missionary even for a limited time, when larger spheres are open to him.

The Mission-house is a most modest dwelling, simply and neatly

furnished; and though too small, more completely realises my idea of a

country Mission-house than others which I have seen.

For several days we had had in sight the great granite mountains of the

VAVA VATO, which we had skirted on their eastern side, on our journey to

the Betsileo province. The lofty serrated crest of these mountains had

furnished us with conspicuous points for our survey. On the west centre

were the noble peaks of Iávohaikia and Ivohitány; in the south bend was

the peak of Máhasóa; and on the northern curve were two rounded hills,

exceedingly like elephants; one very large, with a small elephant

standing in front of him. These points occur repeatedly in our survey

lists. We had long been approaching these granite mountains: the single

line first seen on the horizon had broken up into masses, showing

different ridges: and at Antoby we not only found ourselves close to

them, but Mr. Clemes assured us that there was no difficulty in making

the ascent and returning the same day. Our men, fortified for extra toil

by an extra day’s pay, entered into the scheme with spirit, and we

devoted Monday to the expedition.

We started at half-past seven and returned by half-past five: and with

lovely weather and a clear sky, had a successful day. We penetrated into

the very heart of the Váva Vato range: and climbed to the summit of

Iávohaikia (7100 feet), the highest peak of all. We found that, counting

from the west, the mass contains three ranges and on the third in its

centre is Iávoháikia. Behind is a fourth range, which bends to the

south-east: on this is Ivóhitány. The first three ranges run south for

three miles, then curve and end with a western front in the mass of

Máhasóa. To the north these ranges bend to the eastward, and on the

curve of the third and highest range are the two elephants. From them

and from the fourth range, two lofty ridges run to the east and

south-east: with fine grassy alleys between them.

This mass of mountains is piled up upon the grandest scale. Each ridge

is lofty and impresses one with its greatness. Who can adequately

describe the combination of the whole? It is impossible to enter into

details; to picture the thousands of fallen rocks; to tell the size and

vastness of individual rocks, bigger than palaces and temples; here

piled upon one another, there scattered in profusion over a vast space.

We walked beneath them, looking like pigmies: we climbed and climbed and

stood upon them, looking like flies. Their shapes were wonderfully fair:

their combinations and massings were strangely picturesque. Here a broad

grassy level lay between two ranges: there a dark narrow way passed

between giant rocks which towered high into the air. At the foot of huge

square pillars which might be formed into an Egyptian temple, we took

our refreshment on a granite table: the water everywhere was bright and

pure. No finer rocks, no masses of such surpassing grandeur, have I seen

in any of the countries which I have visited.

The granite of these mountains is of pink felspar, of fine grain and

delicate tint. It is in a very rotten condition. Is this the result of

weather only: or does it come of the fierce heats of the volcanic region

by which it is entirely surrounded?

The district in which we were now travelling, from the Kitsamby south

and from the Vava Váto mountains to the sea is called MENABE, the “great

red” land. It deserves the name, for the red clay is most conspicuous on

all its western side. The population continues for only one day’s

journey to the west. It is worthy of note that while on the eastern edge

of Imerina the first descent is covered with thick forest along the

entire line of country, the first descent on the west, both in the

Mándridráno and Ménabé, is quite bare of wood: the terrace below for at

least fifteen miles westward is bare also. There is brushwood in the

hollows; but there is no forest properly so called. Farther south on the

western edge of the Betsileo, M. Grandidier’s map indicates that there

is forest.

We now looked forward to a visit to the Norwegian Mission Stations,

which were not far away; and the first of which, AMBOHIMASINA, is only

six miles south of Antoby. We had already obtained three bearings of

both the village and the Mission-house from various points. Taking

farewell of our kind hosts, we left Antoby on Tuesday, April 28th, and

had a pleasant run of two hours and a half, over the clay hills, and

across the Ikokomy river, to Ambohimasina; where we were most kindly

welcomed by Mr. Eganes of the Norwegian Mission: and joined him in a

late breakfast. Mr. Eganes has lived a lonely life for two or three

years at this distant station: but he has gathered round him the

apparatus for Christian work: has built a simple, comfortable

dwelling-house, and school: has been learning Malagasy; and now joined

by a good wife, who was at the time of our visit on her voyage, he is

prepared to devote all his strength and time to the instruction of the

people around him.

At one o’clock we set out for the station of BETAFO, distant about

fifteen miles. The journey was somewhat long and the road rough and

unknown: but the bearers were as anxious as ourselves to arrive before

dark, and they stepped well forward. Mr. Sewell and I brought in the

rear of the party just before six o’clock and we were soon comfortably

housed under the hospitable roof of Mr. and Mrs. Eng. I will not

describe the details of our journey: but the ground over which we had

travelled is in many respects remarkable, as illustrating the manner in

which the present surface of Madagascar has been formed.

Our course from Ambohimasina was south-east, right up the valley of

Betafo. This valley is in shape like an inverted funnel: at the western

mouth it is five miles across: at the higher and eastern end it is a

mile and a half wide. It is enclosed by high ridges through its entire

length. A fine gneiss ridge overhangs it on the south. On the north the

granite mountains of Mahasoa and the inner ridges of the Vava Vato, hang

above it for ten miles: then follows a low gneiss ridge which extends to

Betafo. The floor of the valley is of the sedimentary clay: it belongs

to the upper plateau of Imerina and would, if undisturbed have descended

to the west by three broad stairs, each five miles wide. It is the

disturbances from which this enclosed valley has suffered, that give it

its peculiar features and make its physical geography a subject of so

much interest. Like many sections of Ankay it illustrates in miniature

the process by which whole continents have been formed. First, at its

upper corner on the south side, there meet two rivers, the Andrasáy from

the east and the Lóalámbo from the north: the latter brings down a

strong body of water from high ground: and both streams under the name

of Loalómbo, have cleared the clay down to the gneiss rock, through the

entire length of the valley along its south side, and carried the soil

into the western plains. Five miles below their junction a strong stream

comes out from the Vava Vato, called the Tsi-tánymaláma, “not a slippery

land;” a sensible name, given by some Malagasy traveller with bare feet,

when he was passing over its sharp granite pebbles: this stream cuts the

great valley clean across with a valley of its own, and through the deep

gulley flows into the Lóalámbo. Below this again, small streams from the

granite have made numerous minor cuttings: and five miles below, a

second river, the Sakóva, shallow at present but strong in the rainy

season, does the same; cutting the clay with beautiful curves and

leaving a high bank and ridge overhanging the water on the east side.

All the ledges at the foot of these ridges are studded with villages,

and hamlets, and in the centre of the valley, below the Sakova, is the

village and Mission-house of Soávina, another station of the Norwegian

Mission. On the north side of the valley is a series of clay terraces,

beautifully formed; and numerous hamlets in a cluster combine to make up

the town of Ambáranákóho. There is considerable population in this part

of the valley and more than one chapel is conspicuous on the hill-side.

Near the broad mouth of the valley, though the clay hills are numerous,

the general level that has been reached by all this cutting and washing

of the streams, is that of the lower terrace in Menabe. At the

south-west corner of the valley, the Lóalámbo having gathered all the

streams into itself, flows full and strong across the plains, south of

the great peak of Ivohibe, to join the river Mania.

Our visit to Betafo was made most pleasant by the great kindness of Mr.

and Mrs. Eng. Mr. Eng has now been several years in Madagascar and knows

the district well. He has suffered greatly from the local fevers, which

re-appear in his system again and again, and keep him an invalid. But

his earnest zeal and his longing desire for the welfare of his people

render him a valuable member of the Mission. His position is one of

great usefulness. The mission-house stands on a little hill in the midst

of a vast amphitheatre, cut out of the great valley, at its upper end,

by the rivers above named; and while the waters run free in the deep

beds which they have made, the sloping banks around the vast enclosure,

have been shaped into hundreds of terraces upon which rice is grown.

Villages have been placed on all the best parts of the higher ground:

and within sight of the mission-house, there must be in these villages

some twenty thousand people.

A few miles to the east, on the way to Sirabe, is a broad plain, also

rich in rice fields. Sirabe itself is full of rice grounds. So also is

the Mánandóna valley to the south, which we had already traversed: and

so is the Lávadráno plain to the east. There is no lack of villages and

people throughout this region. The district lies south-west and south of

the Ankárat mountains: and among the Malagasy is known by the technical

name of Vákin’ Ankárat, “cut off by Ankárat.” It contains altogether ten

thousand _hetra_ or holdings, and these are believed to represent a

population of one hundred thousand people. Betafo itself was the head of

an independent kingdom, the fortress of which was on the top of a

conical hill, on the south of the amphitheatre. It was summoned to

surrender by Radáma; and yielded itself without trouble. The district

has since formed an integral portion of the Hova dominions. And on her

journey home from the Betsileo province, the Queen, with her camp,

turned aside to Sirabé, that she might meet with her people. As at

Fianáran, so also at Sirabe, she addressed to them all wise and stirring

words upon the subject of educating their children.

The district forms an excellent sphere of usefulness: and it is occupied

by the Norwegian brethren in force. They have established nine principal

stations, occupied by seven missionaries. The people have been somewhat

prejudiced against these brethren, as not being Englishmen and of the

same Society as those who first instructed them. But they are overcoming

these prejudices; and Mr. Eng assured us that there is decided

improvement in their congregations and schools. We could not wish it

otherwise. Trained in the Evangelical school of the Norwegian Church,

these brethren are anxious to work in harmony with the Friends and

ourselves: questions of jurisdiction have practically been settled

between us. And we can truly wish them God speed in their labours. Their

reception of Mr. Sewell, my colleague and myself at all these stations

was affectionate and cordial in the extreme.

At Betafo we were in the neighbourhood of the volcanoes once more: and

having expressed our desire to examine them carefully, Mr. Eng kindly

offered to accompany us. Ivoko, the noblest of all the craters in this

district, was only two miles from the house. We had seen it from far

down the valley, towering above the country; and we were anxious to

climb to the summit, in the hope that by its means we might connect the

eastern and western lines of our survey: as well as obtain a good view

of the district at large. In this plan we found complete success. But

our friends had resolved that we should have ample comfort in our day’s

work. Abundant provision was made for our wants: the children of the

family were delighted to join us: and a large number of the Christians

of Betafo, anxious to show us respect, also accompanied us. Our visit to

the Ivoko crater turned out a pleasant jaunt rather than a day of toil:

and under a bright sky, with little wind, it yielded us thorough

enjoyment.

We had a good climb: the total ascent being eleven hundred and thirty

feet. Our native friends, used to hills, coolly walked right up the

steep side, and thought nothing of it. Others of us took the more gentle

ascent or were carried by our men, who enjoyed the holiday, as much as

ourselves. The prospect from the summit was truly beautiful. Ivoko, we

saw, was a vast crater, a quarter of a mile across; the encircling wall

was complete, except at the south where the opening was fifty feet wide.

The western wall is higher than the eastern. Beneath us, half a mile to

the east, was another crater, Iatsífitra, second only to Ivoko, with its

opening to the north. Long narrow mounds of volcanic rocks, running out

from each of these hills showed the course taken by the molten lava

streams. Both hills were covered inside and out with living grass. On

the north-west shoulder of Ivoko were two other large craters,

overhanging Betafo: two more were close by at the north-east: and others

were conspicuous ten miles to the north. On the south again were several

others, the horse-shoe shape being very marked in all. While ten miles

to the south, was the round crater of Tritriva, with a green lake, deep

down within. Far away to the east were other craters near and to the

north of Sirabe.

Our survey of the country had now been carried along the western

districts of Imerina, and thence to the south; and it had embraced the

whole country lying between the Ankárat mountains and the great ridges

and peaks of Ménabé. On our former journey we had laid down the inner

portions of the Vákin Ankárat; Mr. Cameron had determined the latitude

of Betafo, Sirabe and Votovorona, nearly in a line; and we had examined

the whole eastern side of the upper plateau from the capital to the

south border of the Betsileo. At Ivoko we stood midway between these

separate lines of observations: a large number of the principal peaks

and positions were in sight; and we enjoyed an excellent opportunity of

comparing them together, and testing the accuracy of our own work. When

duly worked out, it was satisfactory to find that the sets of

observations were consistent with one another, and that the

discrepancies were few and within small compass. It is from these

observations that our Maps have been constructed.

Descending to the crater of Iatsifitra, of which I obtained a

photograph, we observed that the lava rocks, which had issued from it to

the north, were black, sharp and fresh, as if they had been broken

yesterday. On its eastern side was a plain, a mile square, covered with

heaps of broken lava, like stone cottages, fortresses, and ruined

palaces. I counted thirty greater piles: and noted numberless smaller

ones. It was clear that, like the Phlegrœan fields in Italy and the

neighbourhood of Mouna Roa in Hawaii, the entire plain had at some time

been on fire; and that a hundred jets of fire and flame and molten lava

had spurted from its surface, hurling their blazing rockets into the

sky. The heaps were now old and moss-grown: but one of the peasantry

informed Mr. Sewell, that there was a kind of tradition amongst the

people, that their ancestors had seen these flames bursting forth. They

called the fire _áfo-to_: and the lava _kitroka_.

Near to Betafo in a cutting, ten feet deep made by a stream, I observed

a specimen of the strata formed by the successive eruptions of these

volcanoes. At the bottom were lumps of lava, somewhat small. Above these

came several bands of brown earth: then one of black earth: above this

several strata of ashes, and of lava gravel: above these again were

strata of earth. Similar strata we had seen in a cutting in the

Mándridráno: and subsequently saw others under the hill of Ivohitra in

Sirabe.

I need not give the details of our inquiries and their results on each

day of our journey. Travelling farther east, across Sirabe and round the

southern end of Ankaratra we had the lava still, with long tongues,

cinder heaps, and old craters again and again. We ascended one of the

noblest hills in the country, the conical peak of Votovorona, a most

important station in our survey: and we found it to be volcanic. Another

fine cone to the east of it, Ihankian, was volcanic also. In this

district we found sixty of these cones and craters. Altogether in this

important journey we saw and counted a hundred extinct craters,

extending over an arc of ninety miles, not reckoning the central mass of

Ankárat, the finest of all, round one side of which this great arc

bends. Even these do not exhaust the tale. The volcanic belt appears

once more to the northward in the lofty hills with which the island

terminates. The peak of Mataola is volcanic. Mount Amber is volcanic:

the renowned fortress close to it is an ancient crater. Nosibe is an

island full of volcanoes. Mayotta and Johanna in the Comóro isles are

full of craters, lava peaks and lava streams. What a mighty volcanic

force must have been exerted over this enormous area! Does Java itself

show a more wonderful volcanic field? If human eyes could have beheld

and appreciated them, what a scene of indescribable grandeur must have

been presented when these volcanoes were active: when the land was

rocked with earthquakes, and the mighty hills of gneiss and granite were

upturned and rent in pieces: when showers of blazing rocks shot out like

meteors into the lurid night, and the molten lava streams flowed like

red rivers out of the mouths of these flaming furnaces. Wonderful in the

history of the earth has been the agency of fire: nowhere can that

agency have been exhibited more grandly in the present age of the

earth’s formation than on the great volcanic field of Madagascar.

Among the adjuncts of the volcanic field we found four hot springs,

three of which are near together in Betafo and Sirabe. The temperature

of the spring at Betafo, as tried by Mr. Cameron on our first visit was

130° Fahr. The water seemed perfectly tasteless.

In three places we also found jets of carbonic acid gas. Beneath the

broad and level plain of Sirabe, extending over fifty square miles,

there is evidently a great deposit of lime. The pits of Sirabe, worked

by the government convicts, supply nearly all the lime used for building

both in the Capital and Imerina at large. With the exception of some

lime deposits, containing satin spar, north of Ankárat; and a little

sandstone in South Betsileo, this lime of Sirabe is the only secondary

rock we met with or heard of in the upper districts of Madagascar. It is

massive lime and contains no fossils. It is from this lime that the

wells of carbonic acid gas are derived. One well with numerous jets was

connected with a filthy mud pool; the water bubbled all over the surface

and our bearers could not imagine why it remained quite cold. In a

second case the tubular well was dry, and we found butterflies and

various insects dead and dying around its mouth: we were told that frogs

and mice are also at times found dead there. Among the lime pits the

bubbling springs were numerous. At one point a huge tufa rock has been

formed, having caverns with stalactites on its eastern side. On the top

of the rock there is a natural basin: the water of a spring continually

flows up through a crevice, bubbling as it rises. And thus it provides

neither more nor less than natural soda water, of which we could drink,

as we liked, without charge.

During our journey we looked everywhere for columnar basalt: but failed

to find it. We saw abundance of lava, great and small, and of volcanic

earth: but of columnar rock there seemed to be none. At last we found a

single patch of it, about fifteen miles north of Voto Vorona. It covered

a space of thirty feet by twenty: the columns were, as usual, six-sided:

and the pillars exposed on the edge of a low ridge were four feet long.

It is in the neighbourhood of these volcanoes that all the metals and

peculiar earths in the island are said to be found. A district

south-east of Sirabe and near to the Mania, is said to possess copper.

Sulphur in small quantities is found at the south end of Ankárat. The

lime is in Sirabe and a little of it north of Ankárat. Iron is found in

abundance in the hills of Amoronkay, fourteen miles from the Capital and

to the east of Ankárat. It is also abundant in the lofty mountain of

Ambóhimiangára on the north-east corner of Lake Itasy. On the whole the

native metallic supply in Madagascar seems poor and scanty.

Journeying from Betafo to the Capital, we paid a brief visit to the

mission at Másinandráina; skirted the little lake of Iraikiba, the scene

of a local legend of the Hero and Leander type; exhibited the bubbling

well to our astonished bearers; and a second time enjoyed the

hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Rosaas at Sirabé. Thence we journeyed east

over new ground to the broad level valley of the Lávadráno, “hollows

with water;” and received a kind welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Nilsen at

Lóharáno. With Mr. Nilsen, we climbed VOTOVORONA, and from the summit

carefully surveyed the country on all sides. The clear view furnished us

with several connecting links of great value to the lists of

observations taken hitherto. We saw far to the south the hill

overhanging Ambositra: we saw Ivohibe to the west; and to the north had

several lofty hills of known position a few miles south of the Capital.

Votovorona is a noble conical hill, of most striking appearance. It is

844 feet in height, and stands on a broad base, 900 feet across. The

base is gneiss: the cone proper is of lava rocks; one stone of which was

clinkstone with a decided metallic ring. From Votovorona we had a clear

view of several horse-shoe craters on the neighbouring moor: and the

long valley of the Lavadrano was beneath us in all its length and

breadth. The great granite mass of Ibety, south of Sirabe, towered high

over the country.

From this point to the capital, travelling was comparatively easy. We

were on the high plateau of Imerina. A single journey on the Saturday

along the western side of the plain took us across the river Elaborona

(“bird’s wing”) just where it joins the Onibe: and led us comfortably to

Ankisitra. Here we rested for the Sunday and had a fresh opportunity of

observing the ignorance of our country congregations at a distance,

their perseverance in maintaining worship, and their willingness to

receive instruction. In all this part of the country we saw no

population. Next day we slept in the chapel at Andraráty, at the foot of

the great peaks of Ankárat. We took valuable observations from lofty

hills: but for two days the weather baffled our attempt to climb the

highest, Tsi-áfa-závona: and we were compelled to give it up. Crossing

the lava tongues and ridges, at Miantsoarivo, we fell into our former

track on starting for the Betsileo. Again we passed along the waters of

the Katsáoka (here called the Berimo) and of the Andromba issuing fresh

from the lava; and reached the thick clusters of villages in South

Imerina. Again we visited Ambátomaláza, with its grand turtle-head rock.

We had completed the circle of Ankárat, had enclosed this great mass of

mountains within a ring of observations, connected point by point. We

had seen and visited the population that drink of its waters. On

Thursday, May 7th, a little after noon, we reached Antananarivo once

more, wearied, but safe and well.

A few days after we set out to pay a brief visit to the town of

AMBOHIVELOMA, which has been selected as a station for the residence of

an English missionary in Western Imerina. The place is situated at the

distance of a long day’s journey from the Capital. Having crossed the

Ikopa and rounded the great hill and island of Ambóhitramanjáka, so

prominent in the landscape of Imerina, we rested at the next village of

Anósimanjáka, to give the men breakfast. And here we met with a singular

reception. Mr. Pillans and I were alone; there was no interpreter to

help us in our intercourse with the people. Putting up in a handsome new

chapel, not yet finished, the elders of the village came to pay their

respects: the chapel mats were speedily spread, and things were put in

preparation. We were strangers to these village elders: they knew that

we had come across the sea to visit the native churches: but they had

heard rumours that we were addicted to strange proceedings, which they

did not understand, and concerning which they had received no

instructions either from political or ecclesiastical authorities. They

were evidently afraid of us: they were therefore courteous but reserved.

After a few inquiries about things in general, whence we had come and

whither we were going, the reason came out. “In travelling about, do you

not take pictures?” “Yes, we have made many pictures.” “Do you not write

down the country and the churches?” “Yes, we do.” They looked very

serious over these confessions: and eventually the oldest goose in the

village and two little pots of rice were deemed a fitting present for

such very suspicious visitors.

Going on our way we had to cross the Andromba, now a strong stream,

eight or ten feet deep and sixty yards wide, bearing the waters of the

Kátsáoka as well as its own. Bridges are unknown in Madagascar over such

streams, and we must cross in a canoe. The only canoe available was a

narrow thing, with a big hole in it, stopped up with lumps of turf, and

leaking considerably. Besides there was not a single paddle to propel

it. What matter? Some luggage and a few bearers were put into the

gallant bark: and the ferryman rowed them over with his legs, using

first the right foot and then the left, that the resultant might be a

right line! The party landed safe: and in due time we followed. An

efficient paddle would have cost that genius one farthing.

Passing well to the north of Antongona and Ambohitrambo, we kept up a

long level valley, south of a fine hill that was new to us,

Ambóhimanáha. Again we crossed our old friend the Ombifotsy, and in due

time came near the Anonibe. We reached our destination just at sunset.

AMBOHIVELOMA is a country town of unusually striking appearance. It is

situated on the top of a clay hill, 450 feet above the rice plain: the

hill slopes up rapidly and is deeply scored with ditches and gullies

once relied on as fortifications. The town contains a hundred houses.

Two large and well-built houses stand at the top of the town, which

belong to the principal family in the place, and near them are the

family tombs. Indeed the tombs are royal, one of the old kings of the

district being buried here. There are other houses about, enclosing

plenty of space: and the hill is covered with trees. The chapel is

rather a small building, unworthy of the place and people: but that

defect will soon be remedied. We found in it a school of thirty-five

children. It has been arranged that the missionaries coming to occupy

Ambohiveloma shall rearrange these two principal houses, and reside in

them while the permanent English house is being built, on the northern

slope of the hill.

Ambohiveloma is surrounded by fertile rice valleys well supplied with

water. It is therefore the centre of a large population; villages and

hamlets are seen in all directions on the little terraces of the hills

above the fields. A hundred such are found within a few miles and some

of the villages are large. Beyond these villages on all sides the

population is thin; even on the east as well as north and south. And as

the ancient kingdom that was established here stood isolated from

others, so the new Mission district about to be arranged for, will have

a sphere of its own and be to a considerable extent separated from

others. Nevertheless it has the prospect of much usefulness.

On the following day we ascended a lofty hill, named Ambóhimaláza, four

miles to the south-west of Ambohiveloma: and had a fine view of this

western part of Imerina. We stood in a new position just between

districts, to the south and north, over which we had slowly travelled.

Many of our great landmarks were in sight and were distinctly seen in

the clear air. Lohavohitra to the north: Ambohimiangára to the

south-west: Tsiafakáfo and the peaks of Ankárat: Ambohimanáha, and

others even more distant, were prominent points in the outstretched

landscape. We saw also two noble granite masses in the north-west,

Ambohitrondrona and Antáramánana, which have lofty serrated peaks and

resemble in many respects the granite ridges of the Vava Vato and of

Ibety.

During the day we observed many beautiful butterflies about the hill:

and several were brought to us by the children, pinned to a small stick

by a thorn. They were beautifully marked with green and black and gold.

The day closed with one of the finest sunsets I have seen in the East.

As we stood on the platform at the top of the hill, we had an immense

territory under our eyes. The whole was lighted up by the departing sun

with a gorgeousness and splendour indescribable. The colour of the whole

was a rich golden red. Every hill and valley, high and low, was bathed

in the glowing radiance, which seemed not of earth but of heaven.

[Illustration:

THE FALLS OF THE IKOPA.

]

On our return home, we bent our course a little to the northward that we

might visit the falls of the Ikopa. These falls are not only very

striking in themselves, but the barrier reef over which the river leaps

occupies a most important position in the economy of the province. The

sedimentary clay of Madagascar yields so readily to the action of water,

and is so speedily scored into gullies and ravines, that if it had

nothing to stay its course, broad plains would be impossible; only long

and narrow rice cultivation would be practicable. The truth of this we

have seen again and again in the scored and riven districts of Menabe

and Ankay, where it is difficult to find level ground. On the western

side of Imerina, at the point to which the line of its drainage by the

Ikopa tends, there is in God’s good providence a remarkable reef of hard

gneiss rocks. This reef retains the waters of the river at a certain

fixed height. Age has passed after age, generation after generation: but

the waters remain. The clay hills of Imerina have been melting away; but

the silt at their feet, and the rich soil that has been formed, have

only found a more perfect level. They cannot be wasted and washed away,

over the stern barrier which retains the waters: and so the plain of

Imerina, twelve hundred square miles in size, has only grown richer, as

its swamps were cleared of reeds, and has become more fit to feed the

multitudes of people that cluster in the hundreds of villages which stud

its fertile bosom. A similar reef of rocks at Sinjoarivo retains the

waters of the Onibe in the Ankisitra plain: and yet another, the winding

stream of the Mánantánana, which waters though imperfectly the broad

basin of Ambohimandroso. It is due entirely to these rocky barriers that

this rich silt and the fertilising streams, which support a million

lives have found a secure resting-place, four thousand feet above the

sea.

The Fárahántsana, or reef of the Ikopa, lies at a point, a few miles

north-west of Ambohimanoa and immediately south of Vonizongo. We struck

the river a little above the reef, where it bends round to the north;

and we clambered over the rocks beyond, until we stood on a projection

of the bank, opposite to the falls. The reef is two hundred yards in

length; and the rocks are piled on one another in a solid mass, while

hundreds more lie struggling in the waters in the bed below. The

Fárahántsana is the second fall; there being a smaller fall with

numerous rapids half a mile above. In the chief fall there are two

passages for the water, and the height of the fall is fifty feet. Once

over they boil and foam and hurry onward, taking a second leap a little

below, and foaming over great boulders rush down the rocky ravine toward

the sea. The scene is in many ways one of great beauty. I was glad to

secure two photographs of it, the one facing the fall, the other looking

down the ravine.

After examining and enjoying the scene, we went to tiffin in what

appeared to be a pretty looking cottage, on one of the islands, and

embowered in trees. It proved to be a Malagasy house of the usual order,

dirty, disorderly, with a clean mat or two vainly endeavouring to hide

what was beneath. Of course while we rested the inevitable chickens

would come between our feet, and carry away everything that their hungry

little beaks could grasp. The next day we returned to the Capital:

having made large additions to our knowledge of the details of Imerina

geography, during this little journey of four days.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER VIII.

THE SIHANAKA PROVINCE AND PEOPLE.

Special reason for a visit to this Province—Crossing the Granite

Moors—Basin of the Mananára—Anjozorobe and its People—Spend Sunday

with them—“The Gate of Rock”—The Wilderness of Ankay—Capital of the

Sihanaka, its Governor and People—Christian work and the Native

Pastor—Tour round the District—Ambohidehilahy—Ambodinónoka—Petulance

of our Bearers—The great Swamp and its Reeds—Ambohitromby—Reception

at Ambohipeno—Amparafaravola and its kind Governor—A Volcanic

Hill—Ambohijanahary—Ambohitsara—Enquiries about the Gun—The Alaotra

Lake and the Scenery around it—Marosalázana and its bright

Scholars—Memorials of the Dead—Whence came the Sihanaka People—How

they became Christians—What the Gospel is doing for them—Form,

Extent and Population of the District.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER VIII.

THE SIHANAKA PROVINCE AND PEOPLE.

THE SIHANAKA province, to which our steps were next directed, has

hitherto borne an evil reputation as a hotbed of fever. But there were

strong reasons which made it imperative for us to see the place and its

people. Good work had been done there. The people needed a visit. Only

one of the missionaries knew anything about them, the Rev. J. Pearse,

now in England, and he had offered, with singular devotion and

self-denial, to give up all the comfort of his settled ministry in

Antanánarivo, and help “the sheep in the wilderness,” far distant from

their brethren. For the satisfaction of his colleagues, for the

satisfaction of the Directors, it was necessary that we should see his

chosen field and give our judgment respecting it. At the last moment, we

received a kind message from the Prime Minister, informing us that

small-pox had broken out in the Sihánaka district; and though he left us

at perfect liberty to proceed thither, he desired at least to warn us

that we might be on our guard. We thanked him for his kindly caution,

and assured him and the Queen that, though we felt obliged to pay the

visit, we would watch with care over our men, and do our best to bring

them back in safety. Under God’s blessing we escaped all harm; and our

fifty-four bearers and servants returned with us to the Capital strong

and well.

We were to be absent three weeks. We carried with us one of the large

tents; our portable beds, canteen, camera, surveying instruments,

clothing and stores, with a good supply of Malagasy books: and our Camp

formed a very compact and manageable body of men. The Rev. J. Sibree was

our companion; and by his thorough knowledge of Malagasy and the

readiness of his help, rendered us great service. Mr. Sibree is a

practised surveyor; and in consequence we were able to secure on this

journey a double set of observations for the mapping of the new country.

On Wednesday, June 17th, we left the Capital for Ambohimanga, Mr.

Sibree’s station, twelve miles across the plain, which we reached by

five o’clock. The Queen and Court were still there, enjoying the quiet

of this royal city: and before an hour had passed, one of the officers

came down, to express on the part of all their good wishes for a safe

and prosperous journey, and with kindly thoughtfulness to add a few

comforts to our stores. Our men too found themselves among relatives and

friends; and were so lost in rice and beef and general hospitality, that

it was with difficulty we recovered them the following morning, in

anything like proper time.

The first portion of our journey on Thursday led us into a fine cluster

of villages and churches on the edge of the great northern moor, and

three hours distant from Ambohimanga: and here our men rested for their

morning meal. Resuming our road we soon left all population behind. The

moor was high, bare and cold. It was not a level; but was scored into

lines of low hills, the forms of which were full of beauty. We crossed

the Zabo, the fountains of which we had seen among the round hills of

Ambátovóry and Angavokely, many miles to the south-east: it has a

strong, full stream of water and is one of the four chief tributaries

which form the Betsiboka river. All day on these high lands the

south-east wind blew hard and cold, and our poor bearers suffered

greatly. At five o’clock we reached Ambatomainty, a village of twelve

houses, but without house or chapel in which we could rest. Our tent was

soon set up; and bravely stood the wild wind which blew all night. And

when we were fairly enclosed, and the tea-table was duly arranged (on

three overland trunks) we felt snug and comfortable.

On Friday morning a thick fog lay on the hills and we could scarcely see

our road. When it lifted we saw on the east of the Ambatomainty ridge a

long, unbroken valley coming from the moors on the south-east and going

away north-west, full of rice, and drained by the Tsárasáhatra, which,

like the Zabo, has its springs in the buttresses of Angavokely. At this

point both rivers are small. Near by are two small villages, Mangatany

with one of our churches; and Andrainarivo, with a Roman Catholic

chapel. Then came three beautiful patches of wood; “Boulder Glen;” and a

small stream with two cascades. High hills, covered with wood showed

themselves to the east. After a journey of fifteen miles over a country

thoroughly bare and unpeopled, we mounted a lofty hill,

Ambóhitsitâkatra, which gave us a fine prospect on every side. We fixed

its position, with ease, by bearings from seven of the principal hills

of Imerina: and made it the starting point of new positions to the north

and west. On the west we had the deep valleys of Anátivólo: and the high

hill of Vohiléna. On the south-east was the lofty cone of

Ambóhitrakóholáhy, above the Beforona Wall: and to the east lay a great

gneiss ridge covered with forest, which forms the western boundary of

Ankay.

One interesting feature of our position was this. The gneiss hill on

which we stood is on the watershed of the island: it forms part of the

edge of the great granite moors, which go south to Angavokely: and

beneath us on the east, was a broad basin, scored in all directions, a

portion of that vast sedimentary clay region, which forms Ankay. It

looked like network. This basin is drained by the river Mananára; it is

enclosed between gneiss ridges: is full of rice fields and has a large

cluster of villages. Early in the afternoon we reached the village of

Anjozorobé; and took up our quarters in its neat chapel.

The place was wholly unknown to us. We had only its name in Grandidier’s

map and on our list of native church stations. It proved a spot full of

interest. The pastor of the church was a devoted, active worker; the

school children were full of life and intelligence; and the congregation

and its neighbours were striving to make progress in the knowledge and

practice of their new faith. They gave us a warm welcome: and as they

had not seen an Englishman’s face for five years, and entreated us to

spend the Sabbath with them, we had no difficulty in so doing.

Saturday was a busy day. Mr. Sibree examined the school children. We

visited together a high hill to the northward to take bearings:

photographed the village and the ravine of the river; and attended to a

large number of patients. The village is built on a high clay hill: it

contains seventy houses with a population of less than four hundred

souls; and the usual complement of fowls and pigs. The prospect from the

chapel was very fine. To the north were high wooded hills. Beneath us to

the west was the basin of the river, which wound through it with the

most graceful bends: and the edges of the basin, and its numerous

cuttings were curved with such beautiful lines, as made it certain that

the place had been formed by running water, and was at one time a

portion of a great lake. The river Mananára is here a hundred and

fourteen feet wide, from two to five feet deep, and runs with a strong

and rapid stream. It is crossed by a fixed bridge in two spans: each

span being composed of three balks of timber of a scantling of eighteen

inches by sixteen. We had seen the fountains of this fine river near

Ambatomena: where they water one of the largest rice fields in all

Imerina and feed some five thousand human beings. We found with interest

that the population of this basin are closely connected with the people

of Ambatomena and its neighbourhood.

We spent a delightful Sunday with them. At the outset came some twenty

patients, suffering chiefly from chills and fever. The congregation was

large for the place, and additions from distant villages kept coming in

till near the close of the service: when the place was thoroughly filled

with over three hundred people. Our “native chaplain,” who had helped us

so much on the Itasy journey, preached the first sermon: then Mr. Sibree

took for his text “God so loved the world, that He gave His only

begotten Son.” Very earnest and intelligent listeners did the people

prove. One could not look upon their devout demeanour, their clean

dress, the self-respect manifest in the faces of both men and women, and

hear the correct answers given by them to their instructor, without

feeling what a powerful influence the gospel exercises, in elevating,

controlling and sanctifying all life. For five years pastor and people

have been left to themselves, to the teaching of the Spirit, the

teaching of His Word: and this was the result. In the afternoon we all

went over to Ambohiveloma a flourishing village two miles to the

westward: and found another good congregation, with a number of

intelligent and devout young men. Away to the south is the village of

Antoby, where lives a good old blacksmith, who has been the means of

drawing a large number of people to the Saviour. Both in the morning and

afternoon Mr. Sibree and our chaplain taught the congregations two new

hymns and tunes, which have just come out in the Capital and with which

they were greatly delighted.

On Monday, June 22d, we resumed our journey early: and towards midday

approached the great inner belt of forest, which occupies so conspicuous

a position in the geography of the country. It forms the western

boundary of Ankay; appears in wonderful loveliness at Angavo; and

continues in unbroken grandeur, west of the Tanála, and as far south as

Ambóndrombé. It is not forest alone; it is a great gneiss wall, running

down the entire length of the country, the edge of the upper plateau of

the island: and the forest clothes and beautifies it. Near its inner

side we crossed the branches of the small river Manánta, another feeder

of the Betsiboka, running north-west. We crossed the ridge by a noble

pass, Ambárabáram-vato, the “gate of rock.” A climb of five hundred feet

from the clay plain brought us to the summit, a narrow ledge, about

three yards wide: from whence we had an extensive view over the Ankay

plain, as well as over the basin we had just quitted and its

continuation to the west. We found that the hill on which we stood had a

second summit a short distance away, called Ambohimila. We took

important observations, to fix the hill: and through all our trip, its

two lofty peaks proved a conspicuous landmark to which other points

might be referred. We descended by a natural staircase of huge granite

blocks: then reached the clay, which was very wet and slippery; crossed

a low clay ridge, covered with forest, through which our palankins with

difficulty found a way; and at last came into a fine long valley,

bordered with noble hills, whereon the forest seemed thicker, richer and

more lovely than ever. The total descent from the crest of the hill was

1280 feet. It will be remembered that at Angavo (a point on the same

wall further south), our ascent was 1206 feet. On the outer side of the

wall we observed hundreds of rounded buttresses, with deep inlets

between.

Though we had reached a comparative level and had rice fields around us,

we looked in vain for a village, where our men might get their first

meal. And it was two o’clock before we halted at a little cluster of

twelve houses, significantly named Mandánavátsy, “get your tiffin.” To

travellers coming from the Sihánaka territory, in the direction opposite

to our own, it conveys the excellent advice, “Make a good meal before

you go farther; you will find nothing to eat for hours.” We took the

advice on the way back. Having rested for two hours, we continued our

journey; and winding round and through richly wooded hills, we came at

sunset, to a clump of seven houses, called Ambatolampy, with a few

others scattered about. In one or two huts, now deserted, there had been

cases of small-pox, but the men carefully avoided them. Where they all

found accommodation, I was afraid to enquire. I only know that our three

servants slept somehow within the photograph tent, _four feet square_.

We had the eleven feet for ourselves; and had it not been for the

mosquitoes might have slept comfortably.

During the next two days we were still in Upper Ankay. In general the

centre ridges were level; but the plain was deeply scored by the

streams; the gullies having a bend to the north-west. Here and there

were high hills, which we used as surveying stations: and from one of

which we had a fine view of the east wall of Ankay and the valley of the

Mangoro river. The head waters of that river were close to our hill. As

we proceeded, we came upon one village and then another, peopled by the

Sihánaka. The women were fair, and had necklaces and ornaments of beads

and coral: both men and women had numerous strands or plaits in their

hair. These villages smelt badly of the native rum: the little sheds

which contained the stills were very conspicuous; and the ground was

strewn with shreds of the sugar cane from which the rum is made. One

little stream we crossed, with its edging of wood was called Sahamaitso,

“green valley”; pretty indeed, but very different in size and beauty

from the Green River of Colorado. Another, with a fine curve, was the

Ranofotsy, “white river,” flowing over clean sand. Near the village of

Mangatány, we passed through a grove of myrtle trees; and we found

abundance of chlorite and chlorite earth, from whence the village is

named. We were now close to the east wall of Ankay, and turning up a

narrow defile, crossed by a beautiful reef of pure milk-quartz, we

climbed 750 feet to the top of a noble hill of red clay, called

Ambohiborona, “bird hill.” The hill made an admirable station: it

towered high over the country round, and gave us our first clear view of

the Sihanaka district. It stretched northward for nearly forty miles.

The high ridges on the east; the low hills and gullies of Ankay; the

dark green forest line which bounded them; the lighter, softer green of

the reed swamps to the north; the long fingers that came and dipped into

the swamps and were lost; the dark hills on the northern horizon; and

the blue lake of Alaotra at their feet:—these were the objects on which

we gazed long from that lofty tower. This was the country which we had

travelled far to see. Descending the hill, we crossed in succession

three ridges with their intervening levels: had our first experience of

the swamps for which the district is famous: saw how the swampy levels

are being recovered and employed for rice fields: and at last, after a

hard day’s work, mounting a low hill, beheld beneath us the goal for

which we had aimed. In a few minutes we were deposited, by our bearers,

in their best style, at the door of the beautiful chapel of

AMBATONDRAZAKA, the capital of the Sihanaka district.

Having sent in to the governor our letters of introduction, we were

speedily invited to pay him a visit. We were duly carried in state by

our men, and passing through the gates of the double stockade, were set

down at the door of the government house. Entering the lower hall, we

found the governor seated in the middle of the room; while his officers

were behind him, and a goodly number of common people, (exercising

doubtless an old tribal right), placed themselves on his right hand. In

front three chairs were placed for us. The governor whose name is

Ra-tsi-mihára, and who is an officer of 12 Honours, received us

cordially; and after we were seated, addressed us, according to custom,

in the following manner: “Since you, our friends and Englishmen, have

come from the Capital, we ask of you, How is Queen Ranaválona, the

sovereign of the land? How is Ráinilaiarivóny, the Prime Minister,

protector of the kingdom? How is our venerable father, Rainingory? How

is Rainimáharávo, chief secretary of state? How is Rabe, his son? How

are the princes, the relations of the Queen? How are the great people?

How is the kingdom of Ambohimánga and of Antanánarivo? How are the

‘under heaven,’ the people? How are you, our friends? And how is your

fatigue after your journey?” To these inquiries, after a pause, Mr.

Sibree gravely replied seriatim: informing the governor, that the Queen

was well: the Prime Minister was well; the kingdom was well; that we

were well, though we were fatigued: and so on. He then inquired in turn,

how the governor was, and the town and the people, and things in general

in the Sihanaka district. He also described the purpose of our journey;

informed him of our visits to the churches in other parts of Madagascar:

and specially inquired about the small-pox epidemic. We learned that it

had prevailed, but by a careful isolation of the patients, had been

stamped out: and no new case had occurred in the town for three weeks

past. Every evening every house in the town was visited by one of the

officers to inquire into the health of the inmates.

The governor then took us by the hand and led us back to our quarters:

and dinner being ready, we invited him to share it with us. He readily

sat down and in due time emphatically declared that pancakes and English

jam were excellent food. After tea, surrounded by his officers and by

the people of the town, he presented us with a number of geese and

fowls, several baskets of rice, and an unwilling pig, who did not see

why he should be sacrificed in the cause of Sihánaka hospitality, and

vociferously protested against the proceedings. A formal speech was made

on the occasion; the things being presented in the Queen’s name: to

which we made a formal and grateful reply. The pig was handed over to

the men, with the baskets of rice; and while they disposed of him at

their leisure, we took possession of our airy room, and enjoyed a sound

and healthy rest.

Thursday proved a busy and pleasant day. We paid numerous visits to the

various quarters of the town; examined the market; held consultations

with the pastor of the church; and examined the scholars he had gathered

in the school. Thus we learned a great deal respecting the district, the

town we were visiting, and the progress of the Christian congregations

which it contains. We found an excellent observing station and took a

few photographs.

AMBATONDRAZAKA is a good town of four hundred houses, and a population

of two thousand souls. It is built on the side of a peninsula or ridge

running up from the great ridges on the south-east: and it overlooks a

fine bay in these hills from which a great rice-harvest had only

recently been carried away. A broad road coming down the crest of the

ridge divides the town into nearly equal parts. In the centre of the

town and east of the road stands the rova or fortress occupied by the

Hova governor and his garrison. This rova is laid out with great

regularity: its large well-built houses are all in line; the streets are

broad and clean; and each house forms a block with a road on every side.

The whole is surrounded by a double stockade; and between the two fences

is a space of thirty feet. The governor’s house, or lápá, is in the

north-east division of the town, and has a stockade of its own: it is a

house of two stories, with verandahs round it, and looks large and

comfortable, even among the substantial buildings by which it is

surrounded. In old Malagasy fashion, all these houses are built of wood.

Outside the rova are a large number of houses, built of clay, wood or

reeds, with large enclosures of clay or reed for the great cattle-herds

with which the district abounds. The people in these houses looked

squalid and poor: pigs were abundant, and the streets were dirty. The

Chapel, however, on the west of the road, and opposite the rova, is a

handsome building, a copy of its mother church at Analakely in the

Capital. It is built of clay; is ninety feet long by thirty-six broad;

and has doors, windows and pulpit all well made. The walls are

white-washed; and the floor was covered from end to end with fine mats,

carefully sewn together. We heard with much pleasure that, before the

outbreak of small-pox, this fine building was usually filled at the

Sunday morning service. In a town like this our bearers soon found

friends; as retailers of the latest news from the Capital, with which

the soldiers of the garrison are connected by a thousand ties, they were

everywhere welcome, and without difficulty made themselves at home.

To us the market looked small, though deemed by the inhabitants and

their country neighbours an important place. We found in it fine banánas

(always an acceptable addition to our table, especially when fried); our

men purchased the enormous sugar canes, ten and twelve feet high; and

there was for sale a quantity of small dried fish brought from the east

coast. While we were taking observations and photographs from a

neighbouring slope, the transactions of the market were brought to a

complete stand-still. Buyers and sellers all turned to look on. Our

instruments were watched with interest and wonder; and our bearers were

called in to explain their magical and mysterious uses. But the cattle,

always in a state of excitement on market days, began frisking and

capering about; and at length commenced a general stampede down the town

with half the population at their heels. In the evening we dined with

the governor: but before we sat down he presented us with a bullock,

that had been duly killed and cut up for ourselves and our people. After

a brief speech and our formal reply, we summoned our bearers to carry it

away. The governor’s dinner was excellent, consisting of soup, curry,

roast turkey, coffee and abundance of fresh milk. On returning to our

rest-house, we found our bearers seated in a line on the top of the

wall, intently watching the small mound of beef, which they were eager

to divide. They were soon made happy and carried their happiness far

into the night; singing over their beef and stimulated by stronger

waters than the swamps usually supply.

Christian work has prospered in Ambátondrazáka. Here, as in other

places, the Hova Christians from Imerina, thrown on their own resources,

have steadfastly maintained their hold on the Gospel. They keep the

Sabbath: they maintain public worship, having two services a-day; they

have an appointed pastor; they send their children to school. Here, as

elsewhere, we saw a few copies of the new Bible; several teachers have

been sent to the country churches; and even grown people have learned to

read. It was specially pleasant to us to find that the young pastor of

the church, Andríamáhaléo, was not a Hova, from a distance, but was an

Antsihánaka, a native of the province. Though in early days his people

had been refused permission to learn to read or write, as a boy, quick

and shrewd, he had secretly taught himself to do both. Being employed in

the office of the Governor, he had observed the form given to words,

which he knew to have been inscribed on the public letters: he compared

the inscription on one letter with that on another: and arguing back

from known meanings and known sounds, he learned to identify those

sounds with the written symbols. He became a Christian: he picked up

knowledge; and he became so well acquainted with the Sihánaka customs

and laws, that he was appointed one of the judges of the province. He

proved also an excellent expounder of the Scriptures, and the church

invited him to be their pastor. “I am not wise,” he said; “I wish to

know more of the Word of God myself; but they said I was able to teach

them; and I do my best.”

Having taken farewell of the Governor, on Friday morning we commenced

our tour round the southern and western sides of the Sihánaka province.

All the centre of the province is under water and is occupied by the

great reed swamps, or by the deeper waters of the Aláotra Lake. The

population has settled on the roots of the hills by which the basin is

surrounded. For two hours and a half we proceeded westward along the

edge of the hills or crossed one or two narrow arms of the swamp on

frail plank bridges, and then reached the prosperous village of

Ambóhidéhiláhy. The village contains a hundred and fifty houses, and is

situated on the end of a long clay promontory. The chapel is a simple

building, made of reeds; but we found a new and much larger one, at its

side, in course of erection, of substantial clay bricks and solid

timber-roof. The good people gave us a hearty welcome, in the middle of

the village. They placed before us abundance of beef, poultry, eggs and

baskets of rice; and with the usual inquiries after the authorities and

ourselves and the usual words of welcome, begged our acceptance of their

present.

While our midday meal was preparing, we went into the chapel, which we

found full of people, and very gladly gave them a service. As elsewhere

during this journey, Mr. Sibree kindly acted as our spokesman, and gave

them the instruction they desired. It was pleasant, yet it was painful,

to see the eager look on the faces of the many respectable women, the

bright young men and the intelligent children, who had been waiting for

us two or three hours. We heard many of them read, examined them as to

their knowledge of the Scriptures; and when they had sung a hymn, Mr.

Sibree gave them an address, dwelling on the prime truths of

Christianity, especially those connected with the Lord Jesus Christ

himself. Ill do those understand Christian missionaries, who imagine

that in instructing simple converts like these, we dwell on the outside

questions of denominational organisation and worship. It is the Lord

himself whom they need. It is the Lord alone who can satisfy their

soul’s hunger and who does satisfy it, when once they find Him. The more

simply, the more completely, we bring them to Him, and bring Him to

them, the more truly is our work accomplished. We want not to make

proselytes: we want these ignorant wanderers to become Christians.

We observed that the house in which we dined was unusually large and

substantial: and Mr. Sibree kindly pointed out to us those

peculiarities, which proved it to be fashioned not after the Hova

system, but after that of the Betsimisárakas. The Hova house has one

post at each end and one in the centre: it has one door and one window

on the west side; the bed-stead is fixed in the north-east corner; and

the hearth is in the north-west corner, with a two-storied frame,

covered with soot, on which the cooking pots are usually laid. Our

present house had three well carved posts in the centre and at each end:

the west side of the house had two doors; there was a window in the

north-east, the bed-stead was in the south-east, and the fire and the

saucepan-frame were in the south-west: the floor was nicely covered with

very fine mats. We saw many such houses in the province: and in them all

is still preserved the traditionary use of wood. Even in the Capital,

the erection of brick houses, within the city-proper, only dates back a

few years.

Having taken a few observations, we proceeded ten miles to the

southward, in order to round the great swamp, which was now on our right

hand and impassable except by strong canoes. We crossed in succession

the ends of the ridges over which we had passed two days before, and had

conspicuous before us our noble observing hill, Ambohiborona. The little

rivers between the ridges were shallow and sandy. Under Ambohiborona we

came to the village of Manákambahiny, where a little congregation

awaited us, and offered us their welcome and a present. Beyond this

village we got into one of the arms of the swamp; and now saw what noble

reeds grow in it. The zozóro papyrus, with its triangular stalk was very

fine and very tall: the flat _hérena_ also grew luxuriantly: the colour

of both was a rich, strong green. Our journey ended at the village of

Ambódinónoka, on the northern edge of Ankay.

Here a curious scene took place. The elders of the village, with a fine

old judge at their head, had made their little speech; had thanked their

“friends over the sea” for sending us to visit them; and had offered us

their hospitable present; but none of our bearers were at hand; and when

we called them to take the beef and rice away, they declined to come. On

inquiry we found that they were in the sulks and were holding an

indignation-meeting, to protest against the ill treatment they were

suffering at our hands. Asking for particulars, we were informed that

they had two grievances; first, three days ago, we had continued our

journey a whole quarter of an hour after sunset; (we had not reached the

village;) and secondly, we had publicly reproved them to-day, because

they had taken up the geese offered as presents. We replied that we were

astonished at their impudence; that they had greatly disgraced us

to-day, by greedily seizing the birds and the rice, even before the

hospitable people had formally offered them to ourselves. They might

sulk if they pleased; we should give them no beef or rice this evening;

we should give the whole of it to the poor of the village: which we did.

A moderate supper at their own expense, followed by a placid night,

restored their moral tone; and the next day, they did a good day’s work

with energy and spirit. What a petulant set of children they were!

On Saturday our journey was long; we started very early and were nine

hours and a half in the palankin. Again and again we went down into the

swamps; crossed a river with a curious name, “that which a girl cannot

pass”; came close under the western hills of Ankay, covered with forest;

and enjoyed a pleasant midday rest at the fine village of Ambohitromby,

or “ox-town.” The swamp was difficult to traverse to-day. The _zozoro_

was very tall, strong and green: the _herena_, with its flat blade, was

often six feet long: and the _via_, the beautiful Arum lily, the

_Astrapœa Wallichi_, with its huge well-crimped leaves, was here in

abundance. We had also a few rofia palms. At times the ground was lumpy;

then we had swamp; then soft clay; we went round the edge of the reedy

forest or forced our way through it. Now some men stuck fast with the

luggage, then others. One spot was all but impassable. The water was

deep: the men beat down the stalks of the reeds; and staggered over the

slippery bridge as they best could. In another there was a single plank;

and our palankins were carried over with but one man at each end: the

firmness and steadiness with which they moved forward were wonderful:

and we all passed without accident.

This great swamp covers altogether an area of over six hundred square

miles: It has many arms running up into the hills on every side: and on

its north-east side is the clear lake of Alaotra. It lies at the north

end of Ankay; and receives the drainage of a vast district on the

south-east: the hills in that direction are peculiarly sandy and

friable: waterspouts and storms have wrought havoc among them, and all

the silt has been carried into the Sihánaka level. The only exit for the

waters is on the north-east: and here the ravine is narrow and rocks bar

the way. The waters are retained at a high level; and the sediment

washed down is buried beneath them. Long tongues and fingers of clay

project into the reed-covered reservoir; and a few hills stand out like

islands in the deep green sea. Imerina must once have been what this

great province now is: it has still the remains of the ancient swamps

and forests of reeds. And Imerina is now, what in due time the Sihánaka

will become, a magnificent rice plain, with its rivers embanked and

bridged, with smiling villages on every side, feeding myriads of

Christian people, living in peace.

Ambohitromby is a good village of ninety houses, on a round hill: with

abundance of geese and fowls; and having large herds of cattle in its

neighbourhood. We had a most pleasant meeting with its people. The

little chapel was crowded and many present were Sihánaka. Again we

examined all the scholars, and Mr. Sibree gave the people an address. We

were objects of great curiosity to them all, but especially to the

women, who had probably never seen an Englishman before.

We now had a long journey before us: but it was for the most part on

level ground. We were travelling north, on the main ridge of the

district on its west side; and to-day we got over many miles of ground.

At times we went through inlets of the swamp which separated the ridges

from one another: and then found ourselves on a broad level terrace,

along which the men raced and ran with great speed. Parallel to us on

the east was another level ridge, running into the swamp from the

north-north-west. A large portion of the low level between has been

redeemed from the swamp and is being cultivated with rice. Villages were

seen here and there with chapels; on the grassy level the cattle were

numerous; and the little stacks of rice stood in long lines on the open

plain. Close by on the west were great gneiss hills covered with forest:

away to the north was the volcanic mass, which overhangs the town of

Ampárafárávóla; and across the swamp to the eastward were the red clay

ridges, made golden in the warm light of the afternoon sun. It was one

of the most pleasant trips we had made in the country.

Late in the afternoon we came to an inlet, which gave passage to a small

river flowing from the western hills, and was filled as usual with the

zozóro reeds. Across the inlet on the north, was a steep red hill, which

had on its summit the old walled village of Ambóhipéno. We noticed that

there was a group of people looking for us on the top of the hill: the

choir of women was on the east; the school children were on the west,

and the elders of the town stood in the centre. As we commenced the

ascent of the hill the women and children began to sing: and when we

reached the top, the old judge of the district, a man of hearty, genial

temper, came forward and shook us warmly by the hand. Recognising us as

“messengers of the churches over the sea,” and as “friends of the

kingdom,” he gave us a hearty welcome and as usual presented us with

some provision for the way. We stayed a few minutes talking with these

kind people; and as we could not remain to spend the Sabbath, we

promised to return for the afternoon service. They kindly sent our

presents on, and after another hour’s run, we arrived just after sunset

at Ampárafárávola.

This Hova town is the place of second importance in the Sihánaka

province, and is the residence of the Second Commander or Lieutenant

Governor. It contains over ninety houses; all included within a double

stockade, and not having the order, neatness and finish of the Hova town

at Ambátondrazáka. There are many Sihánaka houses scattered about the

neighbourhood; and little villages of such we had passed in the rice

fields just before our arrival. The Lieut.-Governor and his people all

came out to welcome us: they made the usual kind speeches and enquiries:

presented us with abundance of beef, fowls and rice, for ourselves and

our men; and then expressed serious concern as to our quarters for the

night. The governor’s own house was being rebuilt: and the large new

chapel outside the stockade, though unfinished, was _in posse_ the most

comfortable place of shelter. It had a good roof and solid walls: but

the doors and windows were only partitions of reeds. However we erected

the tent inside the chapel at one end: fastened the tent carpets over

two of the windows; and though, like the cave of Æolus, the place was

somewhat draughty, and the mosquitoes were numerous and active, we made

ourselves considerably comfortable. How sweet the sleep, even in rough

quarters, after those long and weary journeys in the dry, fresh air.

We spent a delightful Sunday with those good people, and saw for

ourselves more of the religious life of the district than we had yet

done. As soon as the building was in order the congregation assembled.

On the rough little table belonging to the church we placed my

camera-box; and spread over all a gay, if not gorgeous, rug belonging to

Mr. Pillans: it excited great admiration and was thought on all sides to

have added dignity to the occasion, henceforth memorable in this town,

when three English Missionaries were present at the service. The slaves

of several families now brought in the hassocks and cushions, on which

the ladies were to sit: and as soon as the governor and his family

entered, the place was well filled. We thought there were nearly five

hundred people present, of whom a good proportion were Sihánaka. They

sang tolerably well: but the tunes had become greatly altered by

interpolations, deductions and shakes, and we could only just recognise

them. Our chaplain preached the first sermon: and Mr. Sibree the second,

both choosing the same text: “This is a faithful saying: that Jesus

Christ came into the world to save sinners.” I added a brief address in

English (the sound of which greatly interested the people), which was

interpreted by Mr. Sibree. We all had but one theme: and the attention

manifested throughout our two hours’ service, was gratifying in the

extreme. Subsequently Mr. Sibree gathered the singers, gave them some

good advice about their singing, and taught them the new tunes which we

had brought with us. They took to them most heartily. They sang in the

chapel: then they removed to the school-room; with the help of the

chaplain they practised all the evening: deep into the night we heard

voices proclaiming in Malagasy, “There is a happy land, far, far away”:

and as the sun rose the next morning and we set out on our journey once

more, the last echoes of the same melody died upon our ears.

One thing greatly struck me during the afternoon service. After a sermon

by our chaplain from the well-selected text, “God be merciful to me a

sinner,” the native pastor of the church, took the congregation through

their catechism. This was the highest catechism containing, I believe,

over a hundred questions. As he put the questions one by one, the entire

congregation answered. The governor, and the governor’s wife; the

officers old and young; the women and the female slaves; the young men,

boys, girls; the Sihánaka as well as the Hovas, all answered clearly and

correctly. These people had been carefully taught. Far away from

Englishmen, receiving but indirectly life and stimulus from the churches

of their brethren in Imerina, dependent entirely upon one another and

upon native teaching, these people were keeping the Sabbath, were

maintaining in an orderly manner public worship, and all were being well

instructed in the faith, from the sole fountain of the Word of God. Has

not that word been glorified among them?—The same afternoon Mr. Sibree

and Mr. Pillans went over to Ambohipeno, where the people had received

us so kindly yesterday afternoon. They found the chapel full and had a

congregation of four hundred people, who most attentively listened to

the addresses which they gave.

We had invited the governor to dine with us: but he preferred and

pressed that we should dine with him. His officers and family were most

kind. While we were dining the choir sang hymns; the singing having been

substituted for the customary honour of the band playing during an

entertainment. An hour or two later the governor came over to take a

quiet cup of tea with us, and talk about the religious wants of the town

and district. He heartily seconded the proposal made in Ambátondrazáka,

that the whole province should be placed in the hands of one or two

English missionaries, and that teachers and pastors should be trained on

the spot for the instruction of the native congregations. He wanted some

arrangement made for the regular supply and sale of Bibles. He asked

whether our friends in England would not kindly supply them also with a

few sets of simple Communion Services, which cannot be made or bought in

Madagascar.

We all took a great liking for this excellent Christian man. He was so

simple, so child-like in his spirit, and so truly affectionate and kind,

that our hearts warmed to him, and we felt anxious to do all we can for

the help of himself and his people. His name is Andríamamónjy. He has

not been to the Capital for twelve years, during which all the great

improvements have been introduced there: but though isolated he has

learned much: and he is truly anxious for the enlightenment and

improvement of the people around him. We assured him of the deep

interest that would henceforth be felt in the province; and we hoped

that an English missionary would come and reside there. Here as

elsewhere we gave books to the teacher of the school, the pastor and

others: we found that the school has seventy scholars and there are

twenty-five who can read.

Mr. Sibree relates in his Journal a curious incident which happened in

this town two years ago, to two students of the College in Antanánarivo,

who visited the place on their way to Mojangá. Among various

perplexities on religious matters which troubled the minds of the

people, this was one:—

“The people enquired, ‘When it is Sunday and the water in the house

happens to be all used, is it right to fetch a little from the spring?’

We replied, ‘That is a matter one cannot lay down a rule for, but we

think you should ask of your neighbours.’ ‘Our neighbours,’ said they,

‘are just in the same plight as ourselves. And then when strangers

happen to come on Saturday evening and there is not water enough, what

is to be done?’ ‘Does that often happen that it troubles you so?’ said

we. ‘It is often the case,’ the people replied, ‘or we should not be

concerned about it.’ So we bade them do as follows: We told them to buy

three big water-pots, and every Saturday evening have them filled, so

that those whose water was expended on Sunday, or had strangers come

unexpectedly, might take from them what they wanted. And these three big

pots are to be called ‘Charity water-pots’ (Sini-ben’ ny fiantrana); to

all which they cheerfully agreed, and appointed three men to be

superintendents of these water-pots, both as to filling them and giving

out supplies; and here are the names of the superintendents.” Had we

remembered the incident we should have certainly asked for a sight of

the “Charity water-pots,” and enquired how the arrangement worked.

We saw our kind friend the governor once more on Monday morning; and

having said farewell to him and his family, at nine o’clock we continued

our journey to the north. After taking a few observations, we noticed

with interest that the lofty hill one mile north of the town is

volcanic: it is part of an old crater: large portions of one side have

been broken away; but abundance of lava is strewn on and around it over

a wide space. This is the only specimen of volcanic action we have found

in all the district. The line of that action lies in general farther

west. And the nearest volcanic hills are on the north-west shoulder of

the island, in the island of Nosibe and the great hills opposite to it

on the mainland.

Bounding the volcano to the eastward, we came into the level bay between

the main hills and the promontory outside. We passed four small

villages, crossed a stream running south by which the western hills and

this level are drained, and close to a spur of the promontory, came to a

large village, Móraráno, with seventy houses, and a little neighbour,

Marafotsy, with thirty more. We next climbed the promontory itself,

which was to be our road for many miles: and from a high point on the

ridge had a beautiful view of the district. On another lofty hill,

having a single thorn tree, we found an excellent station, which we

named One Tree Hill. We had long since left all population behind. We

saw not a house for several hours. Indeed we saw neither house nor

people from Móraráno to our resting-place. The fact is very significant,

and shows the two directions from a common point in which the province

has been peopled. Our men and ourselves took the refreshment we had

brought with us on the hill-side; and then pressed forward to our

destination. We descended into the swamp once more, crossed two of its

north-western arms; then rounded the corner of the province, kept under

its northern hills, over a grassy plain, full of cattle; and at four

o’clock reached the village of Ambóhijánaháry.

It was the poorest place we had yet seen, and looked dirty and unkempt

in every way. They told us it had recently been burned down: a great

calamity in a country and to a people where the accumulation of capital

goes on so slowly. The calamity alas! is of frequent occurrence in these

country towns and is natural. The houses are built of wood and reeds,

and are thatched with leaves or straw. The kitchen fire inside and the

hot sun without dry up every particle of moisture from these substances

and turn them into huge tinder-boxes: while the people are extremely

careless about fire. As Earl Russell justly said about the cities of

Japan: “If people build their cities of bamboos and brown paper, can

they wonder if they are burned down?”

There were one hundred and six houses in the town. It stands on a spur

of the northern hills; and is surrounded by hedges of the Euphorbia

Cactus, which have grown to an enormous size. The Cactus arms were thick

and tall, and the pears on them were very large. It was difficult work,

to pass along the lane unharmed, and still more difficult to get the

palankins and baggage through the gate of hanging poles, by which

entrance to the town is guarded.

We had now reached the north end of the province and our road lay along

the face of the hills, which form its northern boundary. These hills are

not a single chain; but are the ends of several chains all having the

same general trend from about north-west to south-east, and

corresponding to similar ridges at the other end of the district.

It was with difficulty we got our men together the next day, to resume

our journey. There was a reason for it in their own minds: but the silly

fellows would not tell it out, or offer to us those explanations which

they had gained from private talk with the householders around them. In

the face of the vexation caused by their dogged resistance we went on to

Ambóhitsára, “the beautiful place,” the dirtiest village we had yet

visited, a stage lower in the material and social scale than

Ambohizánaháry. It stands on the edge of a swampy plain: the soil is

spongy; the houses squalid; the chapel was a little reed house, the

play-room of the village children: there was mist all round; and rain

began to fall. Altogether there was an accumulation of “creditable

circumstances,” rare in these Madagascar journeys, sufficient to test

one’s good spirits and the power of looking on the bright side of

things.

The good people offered us rather a damp welcome: and it was evident

that in general intelligence they were somewhat behind the age. The

elder who was their spokesman, after inquiring about the health of the

Queen, and the officers in the Capital; and gradually localising his

interest in the health of the Governor at Ambátondrazáka, and the

Lieut.-Governor at Ampárafáravóla, concluded by asking how the gun was,

which guards the stockade of the latter town. This gun is a little thing

on large wheels, a one-pounder, cast by M. Laborde in former days in the

factory at Mantasoa. The Malagasy are still in that early stage of

social intelligence, which believes strongly in guns, and rather

overlooks the importance of having brave hearts to manage them. In

former days, in these formal interviews with strangers or with

Government officers, the people frequently inquired after the guns. This

was the only occasion, however, on which the inquiry was addressed to

ourselves. I am afraid that the general depression seriously interfered

with the reply of our friend Mr. Sibree. The dignity and fulness, with

which he usually dwelt upon the affairs of the kingdom and the health of

the authorities, and the flowery elegance with which he would describe

the purpose of our visit, entirely failed him here. His reply was brief

and guarded; and the gun he passed over in total silence.

We were anxious to cross the Alaotra lake this afternoon, so as to reach

Ambátondrazáka to-morrow evening and hold a service with the people. We

inquired therefore eagerly after the canoes which were necessary. There

was an evident reluctance about the people, which we could not

understand; but with which our bearers sided: all were anxious that we

should stay for the night. However we got them together and went down to

the water. Not a boat was visible: so we spent an hour on the shore,

admiring the loveliness of the view before us. Meanwhile the east wind

blew strong over the lake, as it usually does in the afternoon; the

lumpy water, in solid waves, came tumbling in at our feet: and the

conviction grew that, with shallow, cranky canoes, laden with baggage

and more than fifty human lives, the passage across the lake in such a

wind and sea, was utterly unsafe. The people knew the fact well: the

proper time to cross is the early morning before the wind rises: but why

had they not the moral courage to tell us plainly?

The mists had disappeared; the afternoon was bright; and the entire

province in all its strangeness lay before us. We took a few

observations, which proved to be of unusual value, and quietly settled

down for the night in Ambohitsára. The chapel was a poor place to stay

in; it was indeed “an airy habitation and a name.” But the tents

provided sleeping quarters, and we bore the reeking atmosphere and the

cold winds as we best could.

On Wednesday morning at seven we crossed the lake in smooth water. A

dozen canoes had been brought for us; of which several were good boats,

over thirty feet long and four feet wide, hollowed from a single tree.

The morning was bright and the sail across was delightful. We landed at

Ambohitsoa, just where an arm of the lake runs in to the eastern hills.

And when we stood at the top of the bank, and looked around, the view

was simply enchanting. The lake stretched far away to the southward, its

waters of a clear, delicate blue; to the north its many arms ran in

among the purple hills; the green swamp with its dense forest of tall,

shapely reeds, lay to the west: the headlands were dotted with villages,

each with its little church: the mountains lay behind us, crowned with

dark woods: and over all was the clear azure of an unclouded sky. As we

stood silently contemplating this vast and varied picture, we thought we

had beheld no fairer scene in all Madagascar than the landscape at our

feet.

Three miles away toward the south, and on the road home again, was the

village of Márosalázana, a neat, clean place of fifty houses. Our visit

had been expected, and made quite a gala day among the kind and simple

people of this retired corner of the world. Some four hundred had

assembled, dressed in their best. And in the centre of the village, on a

raised platform, sat all the scholars ready to be examined. Their

dresses and ornaments were quite a study. The Hova girls had the smooth

hair and braided bands, common in Imerina. The Sihánaka women and girls

had their hair in numerous plaited strands: they wore numerous chains

round the neck, with coins and medals; they had also bracelets and

armlets: and their dresses were chiefly of blue “Pondicherry cloth.” It

was a pleasure to look on their bright, happy faces, and see the keen,

inquiring looks with which they scanned our dress and faces, and noted

everything we said and did. The elder of the village, a venerable and

genial old man, at once came forward with the people and bade us

welcome. After the usual inquiries and presents, which included some

enormous sugar canes, he spoke of the object of our visit, told us of

the wants of the churches and schools; and expressed on the part of all

their thanks and their joy in the prospect of having Mr. Pearse to live

among them.

Mr. Sibree then examined the scholars; and they seemed proud to exhibit

their attainments and the efforts they had made to get on. They read

from their school books and the New Testament: answered readily

questions from the Catechism and sang to us several hymns. Their teacher

had been diligent and faithful; and it was a pleasure specially to

recognise the earnestness with which, unknown to men, he had been doing

his appointed work. This was one of the most pleasant opportunities and

interviews we had enjoyed with the Sihánaka people: and it proved to be

the last. The impressions which it left can never be effaced.

All over the Sihánaka country we had noticed the singular manner in

which the people erect memorials of the dead. They take the thin poles

of the _vintána_ tree, fix them firmly in the ground, and under the high

fork of the tree they fasten a number of cattle-skulls and one or more

tin boxes, baskets or mats. The latter articles were the property of the

deceased: the skulls belonged to the cattle slaughtered at his decease.

The relics are placed there, doubtless, according to the usual custom of

the Malay tribes, best known to Englishmen from the North American

Indians, under the idea that they will be useful to the deceased in the

world to which he has gone. In the tombs of the nobles throughout

Imerina, and especially in those of the royal family, the amount of

property laid up in former days was very great. Forty years ago, on the

death of one of our scholars, a young noble, his books, slate, pencils

and copy books were placed with him in his tomb. Christianity, the great

teacher of common sense, will soon change all that. Outside Márosalázana

we found a larger group of these memorial poles than we had found

anywhere else. There were twenty-four in all in six rows of four each:

and we thought that the village had been named from them.

Close to Márosalázana and at the end of the ridge on which it is built,

stands the old fortress and town of Ambóhitrandriana, “Prince’s town.”

It occupies the end of the bluff, and overhangs the waters of the lake

which guard it on three sides. Deep fosses have been cut around the top,

especially on the land side, with a view to render it impregnable. Only

five of the Sihánaka hills have been fortified in this way. A

recognition of all the circumstances of the province and the manners of

the people produced the conviction that the Sihánaka province has been

colonised from the east coast, and that its inhabitants are an offshoot

of the Betsimisáraka tribe. Their houses are Betsimisáraka; their dress,

their ornaments, the plaits of their hair, the necklaces of their women,

are all from the same quarter. As a people they stand almost entirely

alone. On the south lies the province of Ankay, the only district easily

accessible: but all the northern part of Ankay is uninhabited; its

population are Tanála and Bezanozano, working from the south: and their

villages have not yet reached the large district without inhabitants

through which we ourselves had passed. Access to the province on the

west, east and north is barred off by the great mountains. In the

north-east is the valley of the Maningory river, the outlet of the Lake

Waters. It is evident that some pioneers, ascending this valley from the

sea-coast near Fenoarivo, discovered the great plain, saw the rich soil,

appreciated its capabilities, and invited their friends. The largest

number of villages is still in this north-eastern corner, around the

head of the lake. From this point they spread southward along the level

shores on its east side: they founded the town of Ambatondrazáka: and

still pressing on have rounded the south end of the swamps and turned

northward again along the western shore. Other colonists have passed

along the northern end of the waters and the two streams have not yet

met, completed the circle, and filled the land. If this view be a sound

one, no better place can have been chosen for their first town, and a

safe dwelling for their chief, than the lofty bluff of Ambóhitrandrian.

To this day they hold constant intercourse with the coast by the valley

of the Maningory. But if they be Betsimisárakas, how came they to change

their name? They did so for a simple but sufficient reason, derived from

their new position. The word _hánaka_ is an old Malagasy word for

“lake:” _sihánaka_ denotes many lakes and pools of water. The colonists

appropriately gave this name to their new home; and for themselves they

became _Antsihánaka_, “Lakers,” “the Betsimisárakas of the Lakes.”

Here they remained for many generations, an isolated people; independent

indeed, but ignorant, superstitious, given to charms and magic and

witchcraft, and greatly addicted to drink. A hundred years ago, the

great ruler of Imerina, Impoin, the man with the ambitious mind and the

strong hand, cast his eyes on the territory. What he planned and partly

secured, in 1823, his son Radáma completed: and though the Sihánaka

resisted, he conquered the land and made it his own. The last stand of

the people was made on the island of Anosizánaka under the northern

hills. It was not taken without hard fighting. To get at the island,

Radáma placed his cannon and people on rafts. The rain fell in torrents:

the muskets and guns, were useless; and the first attack failed. Some of

the soldiers fled and, according to the prevailing custom, the leader in

the flight was burned. A second effort proved successful. Like other

tribes, notably the Bezanozano, the Sihánaka have paid a heavy price to

the conqueror. Until recent years, when they felt the power of the

gospel, the Hovas were hard taskmasters. And no one is more truly

conscious of the great wrongs they have done to various parts of the

country, or more truly anxious to repair the injustice now, than the

able Minister who is the head of the nation in the present day.

Christianity however is the best friend of the Sihánaka; and it is

working among them with power. It is moderating the rule and the demands

of their governors. It is uniting the two races together. It is

strengthening the order, the security, the peace in which the people

live. Everywhere the fortressed hills are deserted for the open plain.

Police are little needed. Property is secure. The great cattle-herds

roam over the grassy hills, almost without attendants.

The gospel was brought to them by their own countrymen; and it is almost

entirely by native agency and by the native churches that it has been

since sustained. Seven years ago some of the Christian officers and

soldiers of the garrison in Ambátondrazáka applied to their minister,

the Rev. R. G. Hartley, for a teacher. A young man, named Rábé, who was

teacher of their day-school, was selected by Mr. Hartley’s people for

the purpose. He was a slave, but they purchased his freedom; and for

three years he did the people in the province good service; greatly

assisted by the young Sihánaka, who is pastor at the present time. In

1869 they were visited by Mr. Pearse. In the same year the great

stimulus which sprang from the burning of the idols reached them. And

they have derived continual benefit from the growth and improvement of

the Hova churches in Imerina, whence officers and soldiers with their

families continually go and come.

Would we know what the gospel has already done for them, let us look at

the picture drawn of them by their teacher, Rábé, when he first arrived

among them. At that time, he says,—

“Only a person here and there could be found who washed their clothes;

for everyone’s dress was smeared with castor oil, and they thought it

would spoil their clothing to wash them, as they would be soon worn out;

so that the clothing of the people was offensive to the last degree. For

that reason the dark blue cotton was generally worn, as it was nearly

black to begin with. But now there is hardly anyone who does not wash

his clothes, and has not white dress. Not long ago, when it was evening,

the young men in the villages used to form into two parties, and had

violent boxing-matches all through the village, the women also often

joining in the fray. But now no one practises this rough sport. Not long

ago, rum was what the people chiefly delighted in; and if any strangers

who visited them were not made thoroughly drunk, the owner of the house

was looked upon as inhospitable, although he gave them the best of

everything to eat. One day I, with five others, happened to be staying

at a certain village, and the people of the house in which we stayed,

brought thirty bottles of rum and a small water-pot half full for us to

drink together with the family. And although we reproved them, it was

with difficulty we prevented them from drinking, until they saw we were

really in earnest. And this is but a sample of the love of the people

for drink. So that at night there was great disturbance everywhere from

drunken people. But now there is nothing of that kind, for if anyone is

seen drunk by his companions he is exceedingly ashamed; and those who

still like excess drink in secret, for everyone now knows the folly of

it. And what has brought about such a change but the spreading of the

Word of God?”

There are now thirty-one churches in the Sihánaka province; and in a few

years, judging from the villages we saw, the number will be increased.

Of the strength of their principle and the vitality of their piety we

saw abundant proofs. Left to themselves they keep holy the Sabbath; they

maintain public worship; they have chosen pastors for their instruction;

they pay teachers for educating their children. From small beginnings

they have grown numerous and strong. The grace of God which has helped

their brethren, which has helped converts in other lands, has

strengthened and upheld them. Their family life has grown purer, the

great vice of drinking has vastly diminished: the soiled clothes are

replaced by clean dress. Order, peace, fellowship and good will prevail

among them. And the root of all this regeneration and revival is the

simple Gospel of Christ.

They will gain greatly by the proposed residence among them of their

friend Mr. Pearse and a younger colleague. The Christian women too will

greatly benefit by the advice and example of one or two English ladies

in their midst. The work of a wise Englishman in these young

communities, is to shorten processes of growth, to remove difficulties,

to warn against errors, to expound the Scriptures more fully, to

organise efficient agencies, especially schools; to stimulate by his

example and his higher knowledge; and in other ways to bring the power,

the experience, and the resources of a higher Christian civilisation to

bear upon the elevation and improvement of these children in the faith.

The willingness of these converts, the earnestness with which they have

kept their faith, and their longing for more light and higher life,

indicate that our friends have before them a noble prospect of

usefulness.

Judging from our survey and the map resulting from it, the Sihánaka

province, within its bordering ranges, covers a space of about two

thousand square miles. It is a vast basin in the midst of these hills,

having a clear lake and a great reedy swamp in the centre. The levels,

redeemed for rice culture and pasturage, and the dry ridges above them,

form but a limited portion of the whole. The Alaotra lake lies nearer to

the eastern than the western shore: it is hammer-headed in shape, and

has a length of thirty-two miles, with a breadth of four or five. The

reed swamps, with their numerous arms cover a space of over six hundred

square miles.

The population of the province we estimated at forty thousand people. We

counted some sixty villages and small towns in the district, of which

only three have more than six hundred inhabitants.

The day following our pleasant visit to Márosalázana and its bright

scholars, we reached Ambatondrazáka once more. Most reluctantly we

quitted our kind friend the governor and his people to plunge once more

into the wilderness. But time was pressing; we explained the case to our

bearers, stimulated them by the offer of a day’s pay; and they bore us

vigorously over the rough hills. More than ever we admired the soft,

rich foliage of the forest; we climbed the lofty “Gate of rock,” and

rested for another quiet Sunday at Anjozórobe. Again we traversed the

basin of the Mánanára; crossed over the granite moors; had a pic-nic

tiffin in “Boulder Glen”; and slept in peace in the handsome church of

Ambohitrérena. The next day, July 7th, at noon, we reached the capital,

glad and grateful for the wonders we had seen.

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