2. That the evils caused by the squadron have been much exaggerated; and that, were the squadron to be withdrawn, there would be no certain alleviation of negro suffering.

3. That the squadron stationed on the Coast has little influence upon the activity of the slave-trade.

4. That the severe laws against slavers are calculated to drive them to real crime, and are impotent in the cause of slave-trade suppression.

5. That missions to African kings are utterly useless.

6. That, were the Spanish authorities in Cuba to take the same honest measures as those in Brazil to prevent the importation of negroes, the slave-trade would be at an end.

7. That the export of slaves from Africa can only be prevent ed by the Coast being walled with civilization. That the trade is now confined almost entirely to Congo, and that English settle. ments in that country would drive it entirely from the Western Coast.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE METROPOLIS OF AFRICA.

San Paolo de Loanda: its Description.-Pecuniary Embarrassment.-Ride in a Palanquin.-Welcomed by Mr. Gabriel.-Portuguese Society.-A Reminiscence.

WHEN next we sighted land, our intelligent navigators found that we were a matter of forty miles south of Loanda. We had to coast back again, and on the evening of the 5th of September lay outside the harbor of the metropolis of Africa.

This harbor is formed by a low, flat sandy island called Loanda, from a native word meaning bald. According to Pigafetta, Merolla, and other ancient authorities, this island was in their days more than double its present size. Two hundred years ago, a fort, called "Our Lady of the Rose," stood upon the point of this island, which is now only marked by a heap of stones a mile and a half from the shore.

This island was formerly the cowrie-mine of Congo, to whose king it belonged. These shells were the currency of Congo, the females being preferred; and there is a tradition that the early discoverers, observing that the royal slaves always sailed in one direction for them, had the curiosity to sail after them, and so discovered the finest harbor on the West Coast of Africa. This harbor, however, is now becoming so choked with sand, that, unless it be soon dredged, it will cease to be a harbor at all.

A black pilot came on board at daybreak the next morning, and, running us close inshore on account of some dangerous shoals at the mouth of the harbor, brought us to a safe anchorage among about a dozen craft of the same nation.

The bustle of the harbor, the appearance of the city, and the number of white faces around us in boat and vessel, made it for me a scene of excitement and novelty.

Having seen only our own wretched colonial villages on the Coast, I looked upon this great city as a young man brought up in a secluded rural district looks down upon the grand chaos of

houses as he skims over them on his way to Shoreditch or Euston Square.

First built by the Portuguese, San Paolo was taken from them by the Dutch, and taken back again one Lady's Day, whence it was called San Paolo da Assumpção de Loanda.

As far as things African can resemble things European, Loanda resembles Lisbon; but it is not a flattering likeness. There are some fine churches and public buildings, which, like prepared dowagers, are seen to most advantage from a distance. Their appearance is decidedly imposing. The native huts, which form the suburbs of the city, afford a good contrast with their dark thatch against the glaring whitewashed buildings of the Portuguese, but in themselves are too uniform to be picturesque.

San Paolo, now fading into ruins, was two hundred years ago a city which deserved the admiration of the world. Father Cavazzi, who wrote in 1667, says that it was surrounded by temples and monasteries instead of bastions, and that it possessed a cathedral, a convent, a hospital, and a college of the Company of Jesus.

It was one of the most cherished colonies of that Order, and when the Jesuits fell, their palaces of religion also crumbled away. The discovery of the Brazils injured this colony by turning all enterprise to the New World. Angola was made a slave emporium, and for a time prospered; but since the laws of abolition have come into force, Angola has been dying away into poverty, and is now on the brink of utter ruin.

After we had been "visited," three young gentlemen connected with the firm to whom the ship belonged came aboard and ate a breakfast, which, supplied from our small stores, they did not appear to enjoy. The appearance of these youths did not give me a favorable impression of the climate. Father Carli's description of the colonists, "that their voices were broken, and that they looked as if they had been dug out of their graves," was not altogether inapplicable to these. Have you ever seen the genuine face of a woman who has spoiled her complexion with mineral paints? It is probable that you have not, for such faces seldom come to view unclothed. But if you have, imagine it also in a high state of yellow jaundice. Then you behold the faces of these young men.

three

The captain asked me if I had any friends in Loanda. I replied that I knew nobody, but that I was going to call on the English consul. He said that if no one offered me bed and board, he

hoped that I would return and stay with him on board, when he would be able to give me better dinners than he had done during our voyage. Now this was after we had spent fifty-six long days in one another's company, and had every right to be mutually ennuyés. But he saw that I ran a good chance of being houseless and homeless. He knew that my money was all gone. And he made me this offer with a delicacy and a thoughtfulness which would have done honor to a woman. Even slavers, therefore, must have some sparks of humanity.

Now attempt to understand the position I was placed in. I had passed two detestable and dreary months on board this schooner, and at length I had finished a voyage which in a steamer would have occupied me four days. I was in the unlimited possession of three and sixpence. I had no letters to the consul. There were no English houses of business in Loanda. I had the shadow of a hope that I might find a letter containing money, the proceeds of some goods which I had ordered from England, and which the missionaries of the Gaboon had agreed to send to me. At all events, there might be a letter from Captain Burton, to whom I had written from San Thomé, and which would serve me in some measure as a letter of credit. Personal security I felt convinced would do little for me. Having taken an unbiased look at myself in a glass, I felt inclined to mistake myself for a costermonger "who had seen better days."

To be obliged to return to Fernando Po was not a cheerful prospect, especially as I should only be entitled to a deck passage as a distressed British subject. However, Dr. Livingstone's account of Mr. Gabriel's kindness, and the manner in which the Portuguese all spoke of him, gave me hopes of a better fate, and I inquired, with great anxiety, whether that gentleman was still at Loanda,

A Senhor Isaac, whom I met on the custom-house quay, told me that he was at home, and called a palanquin for me, saying that I could not walk there in the sun. I refused, partly because I disdained that luminary, and partly because one desires to be economical when one has only three and sixpence in one's pocket. However, the senhor insisted, the machilla was brought up by two stalwart negroes, and I was requested to get in. The machilla, or African palanquin, is a carpeted board hanging from a pole, with a pillow for the back, and curtains at the sides. On to this board I crawled clumsily enough, amid a fire of well-bred

smiles and of Portuguese compliments. The men started off at a jog-trot, singing, and I, oscillating in the air, concentrated mind. and body on the preservation of equilibrium. After a ten minutes' ride I was set down at the door of a very handsome house, which they told me was that of the Senhor Gabriel. I got out with a sense of relief, gave them a shilling (which, being double their fare, they were discontented with and abused me), and mounted a stone staircase which led me to a large terrace. There a negro servant met me, informed me that Senhor Gabriel was out, but said that if I wished I could see the secretary. I did wish to see the secretary, and was introduced into a room furnished like an English drawing-room. The secretary came in, said that Mr. Gabriel was not at home, and asked me if it was any thing that he could do for me. I said that it was nothing very particular (!). I only wished to know if there were any letters for me. When I told him my name, I received the agreeable news that some letters had arrived for me, and that they had been sent back to Fernando Po, the secretary having fancied that he had seen my return announced in one of the papers.

Mr. Hewett, however, made me ample amends for this mistake by inviting me into his bedroom, where ivory-handled brushes and all the resplendent paraphernalia of a young man's toilet announced to me that I was once more among Englishmen who were not traders. I enjoyed my first night between the sheetsthe first time during four months (except two nights at Baraka) -very well; but my grand sensation was on that morning when I washed in spring-water with perfumed soap.

Mr. Gabriel came in after a little while, and gave me a hearty welcome. In a few hours I was perfectly at home. Extremes meet; and it is curious that Dr. Livingstone had also come to Mr. Gabriel's house in a state of extreme indigence. Mr. Gabriel extended the same hospitality to the pigmy as to the giant; and, when I stated my difficulties, relieved me in the handsomest manner. In cashing my bill for £100 (the identical sum which Livingstone also required), he of course did so at a considerable risk.

I remained ten days with him, which I spent partly in studying the Bunda dialect, but chiefly in genial relaxation. In an ordinary way I used to go to a café, where the "men about town" (pardon this desecration of the term) resorted to play billiards, and to drink political toasts in bottled beer. And occasionally there