night in the forest, wet through, and in momentary fear of being crushed beneath a falling tree; how he passed some feverish days in the cabin of a palm-oil trader, whose drunken captain persuaded him that all the crew were drunk, and himself alone sober and trust-worthy; while the mate pleasantly cautioned him, "Sir, Mr. Reade, if the captain gives you medicine, you ask him to drink a little himself first." The West African tragedy enacted on board this Liverpool bark (with real daggers and genuine poison) is a sombre story, which we shall not spoil by re-telling here.

asked me if I was pleased with the arrangements of the house, she smiled and went out.

"We spent hours every day in each other's company. It is impossible to imagine a more delicious study than this pretty savage afforded me. I found her as chaste, as coquettish, and as full of innocent mischief as a girl of sixteen would have been in England. In a little while I found myself becoming fond of her.

"At daybreak every morning she presented me with a cup of tea, which Oshupu had taught her to make, and with cakes made of groundnuts and plantains pounded together. When I came back from the forest, worn out and dispirited, Anunga was there to receive me, and to bathe my wearied feet. She would bring me my dinner, which she had cooked with her own hands, like the daughters of the ancient Patriarchs. She would stand by me all the while; for she would let no one wait on me but her; and, by devouring me with her looks, would anticipate all my wants.

"When I had finished my dinner, we would sit side by side, and I would look at my face in her eyes-the only mirror which I possessed. One day Ananga reproached me with being artificial. What made me wear so many clothes? she asked, with inexpressible scorn. I replied

He made a tour among the Fans, finding the women more charming than the men, and himself an object of so great curiosity that the enterprising Mpongwe fellow who piloted him might have made a fortune by exhibiting him for a small remuneration. A cannibal is not necessarily a ferocious creature, he says, but owns that, while with them, he never suffered those near him to get very hungry. A veteran Fan assured him, with a smile at the question, that "they all ate men," and volunteered the information that man was good—“like monkey, | all fat." This gentleman confined himself to a diet of prisoners of war. Some people, he said, ate witches, but for his part he did not think them wholesome. When our traveler had cross-that it was one of the foolish fashions of my examined the Fan for some time he, in turn, took country. And was it a fashion of my country. up the question and asked Mr. Reade why the she asked, to wear the hair of a wild beast on white men took so much trouble to send for my head, and to paint my face white? On my people to eat. "Were the black men nicer than replying that Njambi had thought fit to create white men to eat?" Then this white man saw me with these deformities, she uttered a cry of for the first time that he, too, was thought a derision, and, taking hold of my hair, pulled it cannibal. "My answer," he says, was dic- severely. When it did not come out, her eyes tated by a motive of policy. I said that the dilated, and she looked at me in stupefaction. flesh of the white man was a deadly poison; Then, wetting her finger, she rubbed my cheek and so not being able to eat one another we with it, and fled in terror to my interpreters. were obliged to send to this country." They laughed at her uproariously, and she came back in a shamefaced manner, and sat beside me without speaking. One day I put my hands in my pockets. The sudden disappearance of two important members filled her with dismay; but, when I explained the phenomenon, she went into convulsions of delight. Nothing would now content her but diving her hands all day long into these wonderful holes,' as she called them; and she used even to hold soirées, to which her numerous sisters were invited. I was made to put my hands in my pockets at least fifty times an evening; and my hands themselves were passed from one to the other, and examined by these young philosophers, as if they were newlydiscovered fossils."

He assisted at a slaughter of elephants, which had been penned up, and were killed with spears and guns; and then sailed for the Fernand Vaz, where he visited Ngumbi, the capital and residence of Mr. Du Chaillu's famous friend Quengueza, whose daughter, Ananga, a pretty savage if we may believe Mr. Reade, waited upon him and made love to him. Here for a short while he led a life as free, charming, and novel as Melville's in Typee.

"As I was seated in my house," says Mr. Reade, "the door opened, and a beautiful girl entered, accompanied by Oshupu. She was tall and finely moulded, her hands and feet exquisitely small, her complexion of that deep warm bronze color, which is as different from the animal blackness of the Coast negroes as it is from the sickly yellow of the Hindoos. Her eyes were large, and filled with a soft and melancholy expression. She came gracefully toward me, and, holding out her hand, murmured in a soft voice, Mbolo. This young lady was an emblem of hospitality. She told me, through Oshupn, that the king, her father, had ordered her to attend upon me in person (for that is the highest honor that can be paid to a guest); and, having

Was ever a young gentleman about town so pleasantly situated before? The King of the Rembo showed our traveler the fashions of the country; he attended at a grotesque exhibition called a gorilla-dance of which he gives a picture. Surely the charmer sitting at his side is not the pretty Ananga? He hunted, also; and one day came upon the tracks of a gorilla, and heard the monstrous beast passing through the forest, but he was not favored with a shot at it, or at any of its kind. When he attempted to

"Why do you love me better than black men, sense, what Mr. Douglas said Vermont was, a Ananga ?" " good place to go away from.

She hesitated to answer. "At last she said faintly that she loved me better than them, she could not tell why. But I made her fond of me; perhaps it was some fetich which I had given her. She was only a poor black girl; how was she to know all the arts of a great white man?

"Ah, thought I, not without a little self-complacency, love is indeed a fetich which no philosopher can define, and which may be concealed in a look, in a smile, in a word; which

"Ananga's musical laugh interrupted my meditations. She was chattering something to Mafuk with vast noise and volubility. Now savages can not speak without a pantomime of eyes and hands, which often renders language superfluous. Ananga was touching her beads and cloth, glancing at me, and laughing immoderately.

"What is she saying, Mafuk?' said I.

Mr. Reade determined on a visit to the interior of Angola. He procured for guide a mysterious Swiss castaway-a clever fellow, master of a dozen languages, a good cook, and a cutthroat; for the rest, intelligent and industrious. The style of traveling in Angola is represented in the adjoining illustration. The hammockbearers went off at a shuffling trot; the leader had a small stick in his hand, with which he beat time like a band-master, and howled:

Shove him on!

But is he a good man?

No, I think he is a stingy fellow.
Shove him on!

Let him drop in the road, then.
No, he has a big stick;

Shove him on!

Oh matta-bicho! matta-bicho!
Who will give me matta-bicho?

Matta-bicho is a phrase meaning kill-worm. These people suppose that their entrails are tormented by a small worm, which it is necessary to kill with raw brandy. The mosquitoes of Angola are of a peculiarly malevolent species, says Mr. Reade. We remember that Dr. Livingstone made the same remark. Why, is a puzzle to our author and beyond his comprehension. Perhaps they get less to eat or drink. He re

"My grave tone warned Ananga. She said something in a low, quick tone to Mafuk; but as she put her fingers on her lips at the same time, I easily guessed the meaning of her words. "She is asking you not to tell me, Mafuk; but I am your master: do what I order you.' "Mafuk, alarmed by my apparent knowledge of Mpongwe, and by my imperious tone, con-marks also that the alligators are more savage. fessed what Ananga had just said, viz., that she thought a white face very ugly; that having her face wetted with a man's lips was very improper, and not nice at all; and, finally, that she only liked me because I had a fine canoe and servants, and because I had given her plenty of beads and some fine satin-stripe cloth.

"Upon this," adds Mr. Reade, "I went into the house of the slaves, and began to take down some words of the Mchâgâ dialect."

It was not without ingenious shifts, nor without danger, that he at last escaped from Ngumbi. It was Mr. Reade's fortune to go to St. Paul de Loanda in an empty slaver; he landed after a tedious passage of fifty-six days, which would have been made by a steamer in four days. He had no friends at St. Paul, no letters of introduction, and three and sixpence in his pocket. He went ashore hoping to find letters at the Consul's office, but was told that they had just been sent back to Fernando Po. Luckily the Consul, Mr. Gabriel, was a gentleman, and lent him a hundred pounds, furnished with which our man about town projected an excursion into the interior.

St. Paul de Loanda is not a charming place. The streets are ankle-deep with sand, the public buildings are all decaying, or in statu quo; oxen are stalled in the college of the Jesuits. The town is garrisoned with convicts, who are kept from mutiny by a low diet; if they nevertheless commit crimes, they are sent into the interior, where they catch fever and die. The Portuguese have fallen into the native fashion and keep seraglios; society is not of the best in St. Paul. In short, it is, though in a different

Perhaps in that torrid and unbearable clime all animal nature becomes ill-tempered and vindictive.

The traveler is well cared for in Angola. At frequent intervals are found caravanserais-unfurnished hotels without a table d'hôte-where a policeman-think of a policeman in Africa!makes the sojourners comfortable, and furnishes fire and water. The story of Joachim, the interpreter and steward, forms the most interesting episode in the journey to Ambaka; but we must leave this gentlemanly cut-throat to the readers of Mr. Reade's book. Suffice it to say that he had wit, elegance, a virtuous expression of countenance, and a fine tenor voice; that he understood excellently the mystery of cooking an omelette; and confessed to having murdered a rival in Switzerland.

In a country like Angola, if the annual rains set in a week later than the usual time, it be comes a serious matter to the animal inhabitants. Thus Mr. Reade found birds which had evidently perished from drought, and bees attacked their calabashes of water. On the tenth day they reached the goal of their journey, Ambaka, and put up at the house of one Senhor Mendez, a lawyer, rich, living in a shed, with an invalid wife bestowed in an outhouse. Senhor Mendez was an educated man, took an interest in European politics, and gravely inquired if the Russian war was yet over, and whether Lord Palmerston were yet alive. They sell rawhide shoes at a shilling the pair in Ambaka, serve Champagne in liqueur glasses, and have an ugly habit of secret poisoning. They drink stale, musty tea, preferring it to excellent na