And there are little
miseries for African collectors. 'Wait-a-bit' thorns tear clothes and
skin. Tree-snakes turn the Kru-boys not pale but the colour of boiled
liver; their 'bowels fail them,' as the natives say. Each tree has its
ant, big or small, black or red; and all sting more or less. We see their
armies marching up the trunks, and the brush of a bough brings down a
little shower. Monstrous mangrove-flies and small brown-coloured 'huri,'
most spiteful biters, and wasps here and there, assail the canoe; and we
are happy if we escape a swarm of the wild bees: their curious,
treacle-like honey is enjoyed by the people.
We landed in due time at 'Prinsi,' whose civilised chief had laid out a
clean path, lined with umbrella-figs backed by a bush of self-sown guavas.
A good upper-storied house was found for us, with standing bedsteads,
sofa, table, and chairs. It belonged to one of the _penins_, or elders.
The chapel, with its three front and five lateral windows, is the best we
have yet seen. The schoolmaster, Mr. Sego, lives in a house hard by; and
the adjacent school, a wattled cottage, echoes to the voices of some
thirty to forty scholars. The town looks prosperous.
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