The oxen are fine large animals, and very tame; they are of the buffalo kind.
May 23. To-day the bad roads began. I did not feel afraid of them, for, in many of my journeyings—for instance, in Iceland, when I ascended the Hecla; also in Kurdistan, in Sumatra, and other countries—I have seen far worse; but my companions seemed horrified at the sight. They were certainly far from good, I must allow. The land is here more than wave-like in form: it consists of a succession of lofty hills sufficiently steep, and so closely packed together that barely a few hundred yards of level land are left between. Instead of winding along by the foot of these hills, the roads go straight up and down each of them. The soil, too, a rich loam, becomes as smooth and slippery as ice, from the rain, and there are, moreover, innumerable holes made by the cattle, thousands of oxen being driven this way from the interior.
Our bearers won my unfeigned admiration; indeed, surprising strength and skill are required to carry heavy loads along such roads. The bearers, whose duty it was to transport my little meagre figure, were the most lucky. I felt almost inclined to be angry with them, for they trotted with me, up hill and down dale, as if I had been no weight at all, and that was not quite the case. And when the ground happened to be somewhat level, they almost ran, although I tried in vain to induce them, by all kinds of deprecating signs, to moderate their ardor; for the long, quick strides they made were as disagreeable as the trot of a heavy horse. The hills were covered with rich grass; some also were clothed with plants. Among the latter there was much bamboo, with delicate clusters of leaves of a light green color, and of a luxuriant freshness I had never seen elsewhere. Like shade alternating with light in a picture, the bright bamboo stood near the Kafia palm, with its feathery dark leaves fifteen feet long. This palm is a very valuable tree to the natives, who plait their rabanetas with the fibres of its leaves—those coarse mats which I have mentioned in my account of Tamatavé.
Of the water-palm I saw some splendid specimens. This tree flourishes here, in the interior of the country, much better than on the sea-coast. I remember to have read in some works of travels that this palm only occurs in situations where water is scarce, and that it is called water-palm, and also traveler’s palm, because a small quantity of water collects between each leaf and the stem, to the great delectation of the thirst-tormented wayfarer. The natives here assert, on the contrary, that this palm only flourishes in a damp soil, and that water is always to be found in its neighborhood. Unluckily, I had no opportunity of investigating the subject, so as to judge of the truth of these reports; but I hope the time will come when botanists will roam at pleasure through this great island, and settle, not only this, but many other doubtful questions in geography and natural history.
The sago-palm is another variety that flourishes greatly in Madagascar. Strangely enough, the natives dislike its pith, although they are in general any thing but squeamish in their diet, for they devour not only herbs and roots, but insects and worms likewise.
The time passed very quickly to-day, for from every hill and mountain a fresh view opened before us more beautiful than the last. But the population became thinner and thinner; in the whole day’s journey we only passed by a few very insignificant villages.
This night we stopped at a village called Ambatoarana. The arrival of Mr. Lambert had been every where announced, and as it was known that he stood high in favor with the queen, the inhabitants of the village received him with the greatest demonstrations of respect, and vied with each other to propitiate the influential man. Here, too, the judge came at once to call upon us, and in the name of the community presented to Mr. Lambert a couple of oxen, besides a great quantity of rice and poultry. Mr. Lambert accepted these presents, but gave others of far greater value in return.
CHAPTER XI.
Celebration of the National Feast.—Song and Dance.—Beforona.—The elevated Plateau of Ankay.—The Territory of Emir.—Solemn Reception.—Ambatomango.—The Sikidy.—The Triumphal Procession.—Arrival in Tananariva.
May 24th. It had not rained for four-and-twenty hours, and, consequently, we found the roads in somewhat better condition than yesterday. The hills we encountered were also less high and steep.