RETURN, MARRIAGE, AND JOURNEY TO CONGO. 1885-1887
No woman could pass through such experiences as had befallen Miss Thomas
in Africa without incurring physical and mental strain which would render
a prolonged stay perilous to life. Her recall was wisely determined upon,
and in the middle of November she wrote to Mrs. Hartland of her return
as decreed and imminent. On January 12, 1886, Mrs. Hartland wrote to Mr.
Baynes requesting to be informed of the date of Miss Thomas’s arrival.
Mr. Baynes was absent in Liverpool, but immediately upon his return
replied that he had made inquiries of the secretary of the African Mail
Company, and learned that the _Ambriz_ had been telegraphed from Madeira,
“All well,” but would not be in Liverpool for another week. Mr. Baynes
also acknowledged the receipt of a letter from Mr. Lewis, enclosed by
Mrs. Hartland, conveying the sad news of the death of Mrs. Wright Hay
(formerly Miss Comber), following the birth of her child. It was the
first intimation which had reached the Mission House, and Mr. Baynes
says: “My colleague, Mr. Myers, communicated the sad intelligence to Mr.
Comber within an hour of the receipt of your letter.” He adds: “May the
Lord comfort and sustain Mr. Hay, and the sorrow-stricken family at home.”
Upon her return to England Miss Thomas commenced to keep a diary, as
thousands of other young women have done at certain interesting periods
of their lives. The note of distinction in her case is, that she
continued to do what she had resolved to do. So it comes to pass that I
have nearly a score of volumes of her journals about me as I write. The
diary commences with the following entry:—
“Sunday, January 24th.—Arrived at Liverpool. Came to London by 11.30
train. Got to Hartland’s about five o’clock. Stayed all night. Had
bilious attack. E. Jane [her sister, Mrs. Percival] and the children came
to see me. They all look well.”
The first entry is typical, and for a year or two the diary amounts to
no more than the barest indication of daily engagements. Sometimes the
record is a single word, as, for instance, “Indoors.” Indeed, there were
many days upon which the “awful cold” of the London winter made going
out impracticable for one who had just come from the tropics. In later
years the little pocket diary was succeeded by a bulkier volume, and the
account of the day’s proceedings was more extended.
It was at this time that I became acquainted with Miss Thomas, and the
reader will appreciate the touch of anxiety with which I turned to the
next Sunday’s record, expecting to find some hint of her impressions
of the new minister. For it was only two months earlier that I had
succeeded the Rev. Francis Tucker, whom she loved so well, in the
pastorate of Camden Road Church. Our friendship grew with the years, but
I am grateful to know that my friend thought kindly of me from the first.
“Sunday, January 31st.—Went to Camden in the morning. Heard Mr. Hawker.
Like him very much. Emma came in the afternoon, and Alice H. [Hartland]
came to supper.”
Mrs. Percival’s residence, in which Miss Thomas found her temporary
home, was but little distant from the church, and she attended many
meetings and paid and received many visits, in which former associations
were renewed and old friendships deepened. At an early date Miss Saker
called and remained until the next day. The journal credibly relates
that the writer and her guest “kept awake talking for long time.” In
March Miss Thomas received a proposal of marriage, by letter. Her answer,
declining it, was written on the morrow. During the spring and summer she
frequently visited at her uncle’s house in Harrow, and once or twice made
a lengthened stay. In April she went to Haverfordwest, to be the dear
and welcome guest of Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, the parents of the late Mrs.
Lewis; and while she was there Mr. Lewis arrived. The happiness of her
visit to Wales was marred by illness. Both guests suffered from serious
attacks of African fever, but were tenderly cared for by the friends of
the girl-bride, whose passing away had involved them all in one great
common sorrow. For Miss Thomas the visit lasted three weeks.
Thereafter the references to Mr. Lewis in the journal are more frequent.
For some time, and throughout the May Meetings, which the two friends
attended with keen interest, Mr. Lewis remains “Mr. Lewis.” But before
“the merrie month” is over the entries give a hint of new conditions,
as significant as the change of pronouns in the Acts of the Apostles.
On Sunday night Miss Thomas attends Camden Road Church accompanied by
“Mr. Lewis.” On Monday morning she meets “Tom” at the Mission House,
and thereafter “Mr. Lewis” is dropped in favour of “Tom.” If Mr. Lewis
were in London instead of in Kimpese, I should endeavour to persuade
him to aid me in increasing the interest of this page. As it is, I am
constrained to depend upon the diary, and turning over the pages I find
the following pertinent records:—
“Sunday, July 4th.—Went to chapel twice. Communion in the evening. Stayed
at Hartlands’. Told them about Tom and me.”
“Sunday, July 25th.—Went to the parish church [Harrow] in the morning.
Bishop of G—— preached. Very poor sermon. Katie and Dora came to tea. I
told them of my engagement.”
“Tuesday, August 10th.—Tom saw Mr. Baynes. So glad he approves.”
Early in the year Miss Thomas arranged for a short course of practical
study at the Zenana Medical Home (or College) in St. George’s, E., of
which Dr. Griffiths was principal. She went into residence in May,
sharing a room with Miss Saker, and on Tuesday, May 25th, reported
attending her first case. Her engagements at the Home permitted
considerable freedom of movement, and she continued to visit friends and
attend services at Camden Road, Spurgeon’s Tabernacle, and elsewhere.
Affectionate solicitude for her friend Mrs. Seymour occupied much of her
time and involved many journeys across London. Mr. Seymour’s health had
been broken for some years, and in the middle of May he died. His wife’s
case was rendered the more pathetic by the fact that she was shortly
expecting the birth of her third child. Miss Thomas was with her friend
when this event occurred, some six weeks later, and it is not surprising
that an early friendship, deepened by this passage through the Vale of
Tears, held to the end. Miss Thomas’s letters to Mrs. Seymour—who, later,
became Mrs. W. C. Parkinson—would alone have supplied ample material for
a biography.
The engagement to Mr. Lewis gave the greatest satisfaction to many of
her friends, and the late summer brought happy relaxations, including
a stay at Deal. The Autumn Meetings of the Baptist Missionary Society
were held in Bristol, and Miss Thomas and Mr. Lewis were required to be
present, that, with other outgoing missionaries, they might have part in
the valedictory service. For by this time it had been arranged that after
their marriage Mr. Lewis and his bride would proceed to the Congo. In a
letter written to Miss Lily Hartland from York, where she was paying a
visit to her cousin, Miss Thomas gives a lively account of her Bristol
experiences, and the story of her first day may be quoted:—
“We arrived at noon on Tuesday, went straight to Broadmead Chapel, left
our luggage in the cloak-room there, and thence proceeded to get some
dinner, meeting a good many Welsh friends on the way. As the afternoon
sermon was to be preached in Tyndale Chapel, we set out to find it.
Bristol is built on seven hills. One of these, Clifton, seems to be
the ‘swell’ part of the town, and we found that Tyndale Chapel (Mr.
Glover’s) is at the top of it. We got there long before the time of
service, sat down against the railings, and studied the map to discover
the whereabouts of our respective places of abode. Happily they were both
fairly near, but a long way from Broadmead, where our luggage was left.
While waiting outside, we met Mr. Phillips, who was very glad to see us,
and came in with us to the service. The sermon, by Mr. Oswald Dykes, was
very good; but I was rather too sleepy to appreciate it duly, for the
chapel was packed to excess; pouring rain came on in the middle, and it
became so dark that the gas had to be lighted. Mr. Ross sat in the same
pew with us, and on coming out introduced me to his wife, whom we met
several times after; she does seem nice.
“Outside, our problem was how to meet Mrs. Robinson. I heard afterwards
that Mr. Baynes was shouting for me from the platform; but he was too
late. However, we met Mr. Brown, who undertook to be my guide, while
Tom raced down to send up the luggage. We met Mrs. Robinson with Mrs.
Frank Smith just outside the house. The Robinsons are such nice people,
evidently rich, but so very kind and friendly.
“After tea we drove down to the Colston Hall. Rain was still pouring.
As Mr. Baynes wished me to sit on the platform, I had to go to the
Committee-room. Being the only lady, I felt rather odd, especially as we
filed on to the platform in Exeter Hall style. Colston Hall is an immense
place, and was crowded as tight as could be. You will read the speeches,
so that I need not report them. The meeting was most solemn, most of all
Dr. Maclaren’s address, which I shall never forget. I was so thankful
that, though I was tired, for the day had been a very long and exciting
one, I was quite well and had no headache.”
* * * * *
The valedictory meetings of the Baptist Missionary Society have long been
remarkable for their impressiveness. The meeting at Bristol remains among
the most remarkable. I was present, and have no doubt that its influence
would count as a constant inspiration in the lives of the departing
missionaries. The valedictory address, delivered by Dr. Maclaren, which
Mrs. Lewis affirmed that she would never forget, was a great utterance.
The speaker had reached, but had not passed, the zenith of his powers.
The occasion appealed to him, and commanded all the resources of his
genius and intensity. One sentence only I could quote from memory: “If
you want to drive a pointed piece of iron through a thick board, the
surest way to do it is to heat your skewer.” The pronunciation of the
word “skewer” was as extraordinary as the choice of it, and half achieved
the miracle of changing a mere vocable into a thing of iron, pointed and
red-hot.
I have read over again the printed report of the address, and have felt
over again the thrilling force imparted to its periods by “the sound of
a voice that is still.” The points were: “Have ever clear before you the
ultimate object of your work”; “Be enthusiasts”; “Cherish a boundless
hope in the possibilities of your work”; “Live in close communion with
your Lord.” The hearing of such an address in an emotional hour is
a biographical incident of first-rate importance, and I hold that I
shall be minding my own business in reproducing its opening and closing
passages.
“Dear Brethren and Sisters, you are here this evening probably never to
meet again till you give an account of your stewardship. A momentary
association in this hall will be followed by a wide separation to
strangely different conditions of work. As Rome’s eagles parted at the
city gates to march east, west, north, and south, pushing forward in
every quarter the boundaries of the Empire, you go forth to bear the dove
of peace farther than Rome’s eagles ever flew....
“And now, dear friends, the languages of many nations have different
forms of leave-taking. We would say to you with the Hebrew, ‘Peace be
unto you,’ the peace of conscious communion, the calm of a quiet heart,
the rest of faith, the tranquillity of submission, be ever yours. We
would say with the Greek, ‘Rejoice’ with the joy which may blossom amidst
sorrow, like the blue and delicate flowers which blossom on the very edge
of the glacier—the joy which Christ Himself has connected with keeping
His commandments, and abiding in His love, the joy of the Lord into which
faithful followers even here may enter. We would say with the Roman,
‘Be strong,’ strong with the strength of those who wait upon God, and,
therefore, mount up with wings as eagles in contemplation, who can run
without weariness in occasional spurts of severe effort, and can walk
without fainting along the monotonous dusty road of petty duties. We
would say in our own familiar English, only venturing to put it in its
enlarged and proper form, ‘God be with you!’ May He, whose presence makes
the solitary place glad as with a sudden burst of light, be always with
you. May He be with you for your wisdom and your success, for your shield
and exceeding great reward. We wish you peace, joy, strength. But our
highest wish is that which includes them and a whole universe besides:
Farewell, and God be with you.”
* * * * *
Mr. Lewis and Miss Thomas were married in Camden Road Baptist Church, on
Wednesday, December 1, immediately prior to the opening of the Annual
Congo Sale. Under normal circumstances the Sale, which is something of
a festival, would have added brightness to the wedding. But the sky was
overclouded for Sale and wedding. It had been arranged, most naturally
and happily, that the ceremony should be performed by the Rev. Francis
Tucker, who had been the bride’s minister from her childhood, and whom
she regarded with reverent and filial affection. But when the wedding-day
came his eloquent lips had been touched by the great silence, and two
days later his coffin was carried down the aisle of the church in which
he had ministered for twenty-seven years, on its way to the grave. So it
fell to my lot to conduct the marriage service. Of course if I had known
that twenty-four years later I should be writing the biography of the
bride, I should now be able to supply a reasonably interesting account
of an hour so momentous in the life of my friend. I could not know. I
have been told that she was married from the house of her sister, Mrs.
Percival, but all that I can recall unaided is, that she was “given away”
by the Rev. John Jenkyn Brown, of Birmingham, and that Mr. Lewis went
away in my overcoat. His case was worse than mine; for whereas in his
coat I had room and to spare, in mine he was in straitened circumstances.
When he was again capable of observing matters so prosaic, he was prompt
to repair the blunder. The consequences were not serious, but rather the
reverse, for the humorous reminiscence has many times provoked laughter.
Perhaps it was well that the event should have one touch of humour,
for the atmosphere was inevitably sombre. Conscious of my own poverty
of remembrance, I consulted a friend who would be likely to help me.
She looked up her diary and found the following: “Wedding; Congo Sale;
2.30. The most dismal wedding I was ever at.” I forbore further quest of
detail, and make haste to say that if the wedding was “dismal” the union
which it celebrated was one of rare and radiant happiness which remained
unclouded till its earthly close.
The first two months of 1887 were busy with meetings, journeys, including
a tour in South Wales, and the usual necessary preparations for a long
stay abroad. On Thursday, March 3rd, a farewell meeting was held in
Camden Road Church, and on the following Wednesday, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis
sailed from Liverpool for the Congo, their particular station being as
yet undetermined.
* * * * *
At Old Calabar they found to their great regret that they had just missed
meeting Mr. and Mrs. Grenfell, who had passed them in the ss. _Nubia_,
homeward bound. Victoria, and Bethel, Cameroons, were also visited.
Early in May, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis reached Underhill and learned that they
were to work in San Salvador. Mrs. Lewis was disappointed in her first
impressions of the Congo, the aspect of the country being oppressively
barren after the luxuriance of the Cameroons. She and her husband were
also saddened by news of more deaths. But they were eager for their work,
and on May 10th started inland for San Salvador. The remainder of this
chapter will be occupied with Mrs. Lewis’s diary of the journey.
“Tuesday, May 10, 1887.—We started from Underhill Station at 2.30.
Our men were sent on before to a town called Vunda, where they were
to pitch the tent for the night. The caravan consisted of thirty-five
carriers—eight for my hammock, six for the hammock used in turn by Mr.
Phillips and Mr. Lewis, and the rest for loads—Malevo, who was our
interpreter, Mpombolo, who was our cook, two personal boys, my Cameroon
girl Marian, and ourselves. Mr. Scrivener took us in a boat to Noki,
where we disembarked. I got into my hammock and the others followed on
foot. We soon reached the bottom of a steep hill, where Mr. Scrivener
said goodbye, and returned. It was dreadful work for the hammock-bearers
to get up this hill. Most of the time I was nearly perpendicular. They
stumbled once but did not let me down. The country here is a succession
of steep and barren hills.
“We arrived at Vunda about six o’clock, just as it was getting dark. Here
we met another caravan from San Salvador with letters from Messrs. Weeks
and Graham, reporting all well and welcoming us. The Underhill boys were
sent back, and we went on with those from San Salvador. After prayers,
we retired to bed at eight o’clock. The mosquitoes were very bad. Mr.
Phillips slept in a native house.
“Wednesday, 11th.—We got up at four-thirty and had breakfast in our tent
by candle light. The morning was very damp, but as I was wrapped up for
the journey in a waterproof sheet and had a waterproof rug for awning,
I did not get wet. It amuses the people very much to see Mr. Lewis lift
me into the hammock. The carriers object to stooping, so I am lifted in
and tucked up in rug and rainsheet. Soon after starting we encountered a
very steep hill, but as the path was wide, I was carried up comfortably
sideways. On our way we passed a market where the people all screamed
out on seeing me, ‘Mundele ankento’ (a white woman), and were delighted
when I pulled back the awning and looked out. We reached our next
camping-place, a little town with a big name, Kingonde a miezi, about 10
a.m. Here also I was an object of interest and wonder, as Mrs. Weeks was
the only white woman they had ever seen before, and she was very ill as
she passed through on her way home.
“Thursday, 12th.—We started early. The road to-day is much smoother,
and now and then we come upon pretty patches of tropical vegetation. We
have seen a great number of brilliant birds, red, with black rings about
their necks. The road being smoother, the carriers took me along at a
brisk run, and I suffered a severe shaking up. They make the most fearful
noises when running, to keep up their spirits. About 10.30 we came to a
large plateau where we were to camp for the day. There were few trees,
and it reminded me of Hampstead Heath, only it was flat. We managed to
find one tree which afforded a little shade, and sat under it until the
others came up. Mr. Phillips was suffering with a touch of fever, and had
his travelling bed set up until the tents were ready. We have Mr. Weeks’
tent which is a large one, with a small room behind in which Marian
sleeps. It was dreadfully hot all day, and we were glad to retire to our
tents. In some respects it is pleasanter to camp out than to stay in a
town. One is tired after a journey and does not desire to be stared at
for the remainder of the day.
“Friday, 13th.—Last night we were much disturbed by the carriers, who,
having no other shelter, got under the fly of our tent, and spent the
greater part of the night in telling Congo tales. After very little
sleep, we rose and had breakfast by moonlight. Mr. Phillips, still
feeling poorly, took the hammock most of the way. We crossed one or two
small streams and passed through some splendid scenery. A tree covered
with bright scarlet blossoms, and some magnificent boulders, balanced one
on another, specially attracted my attention.
“About 9 a.m. we came to a place where some women appeared with ‘chop,’
ready cooked, for sale. Although we wanted very much to get on the men
insisted on buying; so we got out of our hammocks and sat on a rock while
they took their refreshment. After making another start we reached Lombo
town. There the hammock men made a stand, determined to wait for Mr.
Lewis. At this place a kind of play is performed by which it is hoped
to frighten strangers. Men called ‘Nkimba,’ smeared all over with white
stuff, and wearing petticoats of grass, rush out, make whirring noises,
and screech horribly. However, seeing two white men, they did not come
very near to us.”
“About 11 a.m. we halted at Kiunga, a small, wretched place where the
people were exceedingly troublesome. It was some time before the tent
men arrived, and we had to sit under the eaves of a native house and
take our ‘chop.’ Having a severe headache, Mr. Phillips retired into
the native house in which he was to sleep, and lay down to rest. Mr.
Lewis fell asleep in his chair. In the meantime the chief, who was
absent when we arrived, returned. Seeing us he ran up, shook hands with
me, and having shaken up Mr. Lewis went into the house, and in spite
of the boys’ protest insisted upon waking Mr. Phillips. After this he
brought us some palm wine. It was refreshing, but I do not care for it.
Later, having fallen asleep, I was rudely awakened by some one shaking
me, and shrieking something in Portuguese. It was another man who had
just come home and was decidedly the worse for drink. Of course, I had
to smile and shake hands with him. Mr. Lewis had retired to our tent.
I followed him, but both he and Mr. Phillips had to submit to the same
process. We were all very tired, and it was very hot, but there was no
rest for us that afternoon. We were just beginning to enjoy a little
quiet, when a number of men appeared at the tent door, gesticulating and
talking loudly, several of them having obviously had too much to drink.
They spoke Portuguese, and upon sending for Lembwa we found they were
insisting that we should give them gin. It was long before we could be
rid of them. At tea-time they returned clamouring for sugar. As we were
short of that article, we put them off by allowing them to have a drink
of tea all round, which not being sweet they did not like. We were glad
when the time came for bed, though even there we had little rest, for the
mosquitoes were dreadful in spite of curtains.
“Saturday, 14th.—We started early, as usual, and left Kiunga without
regret. Hence to San Salvador the track runs mostly through long grass.
It is from twelve to twenty feet high, and so thick and strong that the
carriers had hard work to pull the hammock through. In the early mornings
the dews were so heavy that the water was running off the hammock-pole,
and Mr. Lewis and Mr. Phillips were wet to the skin. We reached Kongo
dia Ntinu about 10.30. I arrived some time before the others, alighted
from the hammock, and sat on the cushions in the shade of a house. Here
the people did not venture near me at first, but sat at a respectful
distance, staring with all their might. When our ‘chop’ box arrived we
found, on opening it, that the bottle containing butter had been broken,
and that consequently everything was bathed in oil. We managed to save a
little, but must needs take everything out, as milk, tea-leaves, butter,
and salt were well mixed together. A man here brought a queer little
animal for sale. It was quite tame and the boys declared it would make
good ‘chop.’ After some discussion, we decided that it was an ant-eater.
Mr. Phillips bought it as a pet, but since our arrival at San Salvador
it has disappeared. Kongo dia Ntinu is a clean town, and a nice native
house was placed at our service, which we found much cooler than the tent
in the afternoon. While walking in the town we came upon some splendid
lime trees growing wild and laden with fruit; also some guava trees. We
refreshed ourselves from the latter, and gathered a lot of limes to take
with us. I should have mentioned that our new pet received the honoured
name of ‘Jeremiah.’
“Sunday, 15th.—It was not considered advisable to make a halt on Sunday,
so we started as usual. The height of the grass made it impossible for
my carriers to turn, so I was carried up hills with head where my feet
ought to be, a posture which was not productive of pleasant sensations.
At the foot of one hill I had to alight to cross a small stream, and as
I happened to be ahead of the others I did not relish the prospect of
getting in again on the slope of such a steep hill, so I ventured to walk
up with the assistance of Lembwa’s climbing-stick. But my husband and Mr.
Phillips shook their heads so gravely over my imprudence that I did not
dare to repeat the exploit.
“To-day we crossed a river called the Lusu, which is bridged by a few
branches of trees, twisted and tied together. It was rather awkward, but
we took off our boots and got over safely. On this side we were detained
for some time by a long palaver about paying toll for the use of the
bridge. When this was settled the chief ‘dashed’ us a goat, for which we
returned about twice its value in cloth. We then resumed our journey.
At most of the towns they ‘dashed’ us fowls, and sometimes one of the
women would bring me something special. Just before arriving at Mongo
Kongo, where we camped to-day, we had to cross a small stream, in doing
which Mr. Lewis sat down in the middle, and was carried into camp in a
sopping condition, as his boots were off and shared the immersion. He
had to sit, minus some of his garments, wrapped up in a rug in a native
house till the man arrived with his bag. We passed through some lovely
bits of forest to-day, but the greater part is not what we understand by
‘tropical.’
“At Mongo Kongo we met a man from San Salvador, bearing a letter from Mr.
Graham, begging Mr. Phillips to come on quickly as Mr. Weeks was very
ill. So about 3 p.m. he started off taking the hammock, his personal
boys, and one or two men with bed and ‘chop’ loads; also ‘Jeremiah,’
leaving us to follow with Lembwa. Shortly after his departure a number
of people came and knelt down before our tent desiring to know why rain
had not come. It was difficult to make them understand that we were not
responsible, and as rain came plentifully the next night I fear we had
the credit of the boon.
“Monday, 16th.—On the way to-day we met some women coming to a small
market who stopped the hammock bearers and insisted on looking at me.
So I got down and submitted to inspection. They all crowded around me,
shaking hands in turn, and two of them presented me with a few pieces
of sugar-cane.... It was rather late when we reached Nkiendi our next
halting-place, and shortly after the tent was up a storm came on which
lasted about an hour.
“Tuesday, 17th.—After a wild night with mosquitoes, in the early morning
the storm returned with increased violence and continued until six
o’clock, so that we could not start till late. We soon reached the Lunda
River, where we were long delayed. The river is crossed by a curious
suspension bridge, which the natives have constructed of twisted and
plaited branches of trees. It is hung from two trees which are slightly
bent, and the getting up is a somewhat awkward proceeding, as is also
the getting down. We had to climb and walk very carefully. The Loangos
declined to take their loads across. After a lot of palavering, the loads
were undone and the Congo men carried them over. It was getting late when
the crossing was completed, but fortunately the sun was not hot, and we
were able to go on in comfort. We passed several small rivers, and one
larger one, the Lele, which was much swollen after the rain. Here we had
trouble again with the carriers. They declared they could not take me
over in the hammock, and had no idea of carrying without it, except in
their own way of carrying gentlemen. So we were in a fix, as the water
was too deep to permit me to attempt wading. Mr. Lewis was just going to
carry me himself, when two of them at last consented to return with the
hammock and take me over. We were very glad of this; for the river-beds
are full of big stones, and we might both have had a dip together. At
one place we noticed a very curious and picturesque formation of rock
which assumed the appearance of a door cut in the hill. We stopped at a
town called Kimvangi, and here the chief gave us a little goat, which
was killed in the evening. After a short rest, we went on for about
three-quarters of an hour to Lubamba, where we stayed the night.
“Wednesday, 18th.—We rose very early to-day and started at 6 a.m. sharp.
The hills in this region are steep and frequent, and we were continually
going up and down. In one place we went down into a very deep ravine. The
descent was so steep that, after making several attempts, the carriers
found themselves unable to take me down in the hammock; so I had to get
out and walk, for which I was not sorry. The way was very slippery and
foothold difficult to keep, but with the aid of Lembwa and his stick I
got safely to the bottom. After comfortably crossing several small rivers
we reached Mbanza Ngozela before 11 o’clock. Here we rested, and after
taking some refreshment, pushed on again, as it was a dull day and we
were anxious to reach San Salvador. The road was not at all monotonous
now, ascending a place as awkward as the roof of a house, then forming
a narrow path along the edge of a precipice which made me quite giddy.
There are some magnificent rocks hereabout. Leaving this region of rocks,
we traverse a wide valley and ascend a small hill to San Salvador, which
lies on high ground, where baobab-trees grow in abundance. As we neared
Kongo (San Salvador) many women came from their farms to speak to me.
We arrived at the Mission House about 1 p.m. The boys, arrayed in clean
shirts, came running out to meet us, followed by Messrs. Phillips and
Graham, who gave us a hearty welcome, as also did Mr. Weeks who was
getting better.”