This region must be admirably adapted for the cultivation of coffee; for it is well known that the coffee-tree grows best on the sides of steep hills. The land here is said, moreover, to be well adapted for pasture, especially for sheep. In future times flourishing plantations will perhaps arise here, adding life and variety to the glorious landscape. To-day, alas! all around is an unpeopled desert; hardly a miserable hut to be seen here and there half hidden in the verdant screen.
We slept in a village called Beforona.
May 26. Our journey to-day has been a repetition of yesterday’s march, with the single additional incident that we met a drove of oxen in a steep, hollow way. It was fearful to see how the creatures clambered about. Almost at every step they slipped, and I expected every moment they would come tumbling down upon us. With difficulty we found a place where we could stand, pressing against the bank till they had gone by.
Rather late in the afternoon we arrived at our station for the night—a very little village with a very long name—Alamajootra.
May 27. The hills to-day were less lofty and steep, the gorges and valleys somewhat broader, and the roads better. A few miles from our station for the night, on the only high hill we had to cross on this day’s march, the wooded region suddenly came to an end, and a charming landscape lay before us. In the foreground, extending in wavy lines, extending north and south, rose a chain of hills, which we could overlook from our high post of observation; and behind these lay the beautiful elevated plateau Ankay, at least fifteen miles broad (and of much greater length still) from north to south. Toward the east, in the background, two low ranges of mountains rose up against the horizon.
Our station for the night was a village called Maramaya.
May 28. We came to the elevated plateau Ankay, on which we found tolerable roads, so that our journey now proceeded rapidly. On the other hand, we lost a great deal of time in crossing the River Mangor. There was nothing to be had in the way of boats but a few hollowed trunks of trees, each of which would scarcely hold three or four people; thus several hours were consumed in ferrying over our numerous train and multifarious baggage. The rivers which I have as yet seen in Madagascar, including the Mangor, are very broad at certain spots, but they have no depth; the largest of them would not be navigable for a craft of fifty tons. They are very well filled, but, unfortunately, there are many more caymans in these rivers than fishes.
We crossed the low mountain ridge of Efody, and then the way wound onward through pleasant little valleys to the village of Ambodinangano, where we passed the night.
Near many villages I had noticed great upright stones, always placed at some miles’ distance from the village. Some of these, I was told, were funeral monuments; the rest were to mark the spots where the weekly markets are held. It would really seem as if the inhabitants of Madagascar were determined to do every thing differently from other nations, and so, instead of having their markets in the villages, they hold them in lonely desert places miles away from every human dwelling.
May 29. To-day my traveling companions were fully justified in complaining of the roads, which were so bad that, in spite of my enlarged experience in this particular, I was compelled to acknowledge that I had seldom seen any thing to equal them. But the chief problem was how to cross the second little mountain chain of Efody, the sides of which are exceedingly steep. Even my bearers seemed to-day to feel that my frame was decidedly composed of mundane materials, and not of air. Right wearily did they drag me up over the steep heights, resting for a few moments, from time to time, to take breath and gather new strength.