Half-an-hour brought us to the end of the promontory, which was like an enormous dyke or sea-wall, one face having a steep slope, and the other a long gentle rise. It was a pleasant and smooth level road along the top of this great natural embankment to the north-west. From it we had a delightful view, for the great flat surface of the plain looked like an immense green lake, from which the distant eastern line of hills seemed to rise like shores out of a green expanse of water. The high mountains beyond these were lit up by afternoon sunlight, and the western side or a still larger and higher promontory to the east of us, broken up by lateral buttresses, produced charming effects of light and shadow, and variety of colour. At the head of the bay formed by these two long points we could see the high rounded hill which rises above Ampàrafàravòla, and after a time the little town itself began to show above the plain.
At a little before five o’clock we came to a hollow at the end of the promontory, with a long piece of water dividing it from a steep abrupt hill, on which the large village of Ambòhipèno is situated. This place had a clay wall surrounding it, and contained about ninety houses. The “road” to it is the water just mentioned, about four feet wide, where the papyrus had been cut away; this being past, the path was up a steep clay slope. As we got near the village, we could see a number of people assembled to meet us, and on arriving at the top had a most pleasing reception. As we cleared the water and began to ascend, the singers struck up a hymn; they were all seated on one side of the road, the school-children on the other, while a little farther on were a crowd of people headed by the elderly men of the place. One of these, the judge of the district, a pleasant old man, then received us with the usual speeches, to which I had of course to reply. After a few minutes’ delay, and promising to come and preach to them on the following afternoon, we pushed on, for it was near sunset, and we had still three or four miles to traverse before reaching our destination.
A HOSPITABLE RECEPTION
It was about an hour after sundown before we reached Ampàrafàravòla, but a bright moon near the full prevented any difficulty in travelling. The town itself was almost entirely Hova, and consisted of about ninety houses in a square stockade of palisading, a double line of which ran all around it; but there were as many more Sihànaka houses within half-a-mile of the ròva, and two or three small villages at no great distance. On the west side of the town was a large, well-built, clay chapel, not then finished. Our first look at it, without any doors or windows, made us doubtful whether we could use it as a lodging, especially as the evening breeze blew sharply through the numerous openings; however, as we found there were temporary doors and shutters of zozòro, which filled them up to some extent, we decided that we had better stay in it. A few minutes after our arrival, the lieutenant-governor of the district and his attendants came out of the ròva to meet us; and then, of course, came loyal inquiries and polite speeches and, after a little time, beef, rice and poultry, etc. We were glad at last to get some tea, but we found the chapel very windy and letting in far too many mosquitoes to be pleasant, so we pitched the tent at the far end of the building as a sleeping apartment, and by dexterous management Mr Pillans and I stole a march on our bloodthirsty little tormentors, and managed to get a good night’s rest; while the doctor secured the same under the protection of his mosquito net.
On Sunday morning the people assembled early (rather too early for us) outside the chapel; and as soon as we had breakfasted, stowed away our packages, beds, etc., at the farther end, and covered them over with our tent to make things tidy, we let the people in. Mr Pillans’ gorgeous rug again did duty as covering for the rough little table which served as a reading-desk, while the doctor’s photographic chemical box made it a convenient height. The chapel was soon well filled with people, about four hundred and fifty in number; they came in following the governor and his officers, who took their seats first. Then came the commander’s wife, a very stout, pleasant-looking lady, who, with two or three others, were dressed in European style, as also were the chief men of the congregation. The ladies, however, did not patronise chairs, but had cushions laid on the floor. About half the congregation seemed to be Sihànaka, the rest were Hovas. As soon as service was over, the singers begged that I would teach them a new tune; so, as at other places, the large paper copy of one, which was then new and very popular at the capital, was brought out, and we practised it until we had to ask them to let our lunch be got ready. They then removed into the schoolhouse and sang away until it was almost time for the afternoon service; and then again in the evening until late at night. They also learned another new tune and hymn; and not only on Sunday night, but early next morning, they were still at these two tunes, and the last thing heard as we left the place was, “There is a happy land,” etc., over and over again.
ANNOYING AND PAINFUL GRASS
In the afternoon Mr Pillans and I set off to preach to the people at Ambòhipèno, who had received us so pleasantly on the preceding evening. We wanted to give our own men a perfect rest, and so got some Sihànaka bearers. They jolted us not a little; carrying logs of timber was much more in their line than carrying English missionaries. However, we got there quickly and found the little chapel filled with people waiting for us. On our way to and fro we noticed a peculiar appearance in the grass, as if small handfuls of it were tied together in a bundle, while still growing. On examining a tuft of this, we found the unusual appearance was caused by a small mass of fibres growing around, and the long awns intertwining, involving the neighbouring grasses in their clasp; the end of each is armed with a sharp and barbed point, fine and strong enough to pierce the skin. This grass (Andropogon contortus) the natives call Léfon-dàmbo (“wild-hog’s spear”). In walking among this grass the awns cling to one’s trousers by hundreds, and gradually make their way through to the skin, causing a pricking like so many pins. Almost as annoying, although not so painful, is a plant called Anantsinàhy, which is found all over the central province, and of which the small dry seeds, called Tsipòlotra, are furnished with fine prickles, which make the seeds stick to your clothes by scores, as you pass through any piece of waste ground.
A DINNER WITH THE GOVERNOR
On getting back to Ampàrafàravòla, we found that the Governor wished us to dine with him and his officers in a small house which then served as the làpa. In the courtyard was a little shed, much out of repair, in which was a small cannon mounted on a very large carriage, one of those made by M. Laborde for the old queen. At some of the places we subsequently visited, after the usual loyal inquiries for the queen, great officers, and for the governor and lieutenant-governor of the Sihànaka, inquiry was also made as to the welfare of this little two-pounder gun! We might have replied, but did not, that a cleaning now and then, and a little more thatch on the roof of its shed, would probably tend to prolong its existence and conduce to its general well-being. Our dinner was served in thoroughly native style, being cooked in the same place where we ate it, and with about a score of people helping to serve us guests, three in number. They gave us rice and some excellently cooked beef and turkey, and milk to drink. The chief cook would not allow us to make any permanent impression on the heaped-up piles of rice on our plates, for every few minutes they were replenished by fresh supplies of rice and gravy, so we were obliged at last to relinquish the unequal contest. Before dinner they came to ask us if the band should play during the entertainment (as is customary when the great people in Imèrina give feasts); but as I felt doubtful as to the character of the tunes that the bandmaster might have available for the occasion, I said that, being Sunday, it might be well to omit the compliment; but I very readily agreed to their suggestion that the singers should sing a hymn tune instead, which they did outside the house. After doing justice to the fare, we returned to our chapel lodgings, greatly pleased with much we had seen during the day.