Punch, or the London Charivari Volume 98, January 4, 1890

E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, V. L. Simpson, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
LONDON: PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE, 85, FLEET STREET, AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 1890.
It was a Midsummer Night, and Mr. Punch in his sanctum dreamed a Dream! To adapt the Laureate's lay:—
He read, before his eyelids dropt their shade, The Lusiads of Camoens, long ago Sung by the Lusitanian bard, who made Great Gama's glories glow.
It was the wondrous tale of Stanley which had turned the Sage's attention to the pages of the great Epic of Commerce.
He had read:—
Afric behold! alas, what altered view! Her lands uncultured, and her sons untrue; Ungraced with all that sweetens human life, Savage and fierce, they roam in brutal strife; Eager they grasp the gifts which culture yields, Yet naked roam their own neglected fields.
And though even Africa has considerably changed since the year of grace 1497, when daring Gama went incessant labouring round the stormy Cape, Mr. Punch thought of that great gloom-shrouded Equatorial Forest and its secular savage dwarf-denizens, and mused how much there was yet for our modern Gamas to do in the Dark Continent.
Mr. Punch found himself in the lovely Isle of Venus, the delicious floral Paradise which the Queen of Love, the guardian goddess of the Lusian race, created amid the bosom of the watery waste, as a place of glad repast and sweet repose, for the tired home-returning Gama and his companions.
Of 'glad repast,' said a familiar voice, there is plenty and to spare; but for the 'sweet repose,' 'tis not to be found in this 'Isle of Banqueting.'
Mr. Stanley, I presume? said the Sage.
You cannot presume, rejoined H. M. neatly. But some of these gregarious dinner-givers do , and sometimes,—yes, sometimes I'm afraid I let them see that I'm aware of it.