The Sihanaka province, to which our steps were next directed, has hitherto borne an evil reputation as a hotbed of fever. But there were strong reasons which made it imperative for us to see the place and its people. Good work had been done there. The people needed a visit. Only one of the missionaries knew anything about them, the Rev. J. Pearse, now in England, and he had offered, with singular devotion and self-denial, to give up all the comfort of his settled ministry in Antanánarivo, and help “the sheep in the wilderness,” far distant from their brethren. For the satisfaction of his colleagues, for the satisfaction of the Directors, it was necessary that we should see his chosen field and give our judgment respecting it. At the last moment, we received a kind message from the Prime Minister, informing us that small-pox had broken out in the Sihánaka district; and though he left us at perfect liberty to proceed thither, he desired at least to warn us that we might be on our guard. We thanked him for his kindly caution, and assured him and the Queen that, though we felt obliged to pay the visit, we would watch with care over our men, and do our best to bring them back in safety. Under God’s blessing we escaped all harm; and our fifty-four bearers and servants returned with us to the Capital strong and well.
We were to be absent three weeks. We carried with us one of the large tents; our portable beds, canteen, camera, surveying instruments, clothing and stores, with a good supply of Malagasy books: and our Camp formed a very compact and manageable body of men. The Rev. J. Sibree was our companion; and by his thorough knowledge of Malagasy and the readiness of his help, rendered us great service. Mr. Sibree is a practised surveyor; and in consequence we were able to secure on this journey a double set of observations for the mapping of the new country. On Wednesday, June 17th, we left the Capital for Ambohimanga, Mr. Sibree’s station, twelve miles across the plain, which we reached by five o’clock. The Queen and Court were still there, enjoying the quiet of this royal city: and before an hour had passed, one of the officers came down, to express on the part of all their good wishes for a safe and prosperous journey, and with kindly thoughtfulness to add a few comforts to our stores. Our men too found themselves among relatives and friends; and were so lost in rice and beef and general hospitality, that it was with difficulty we recovered them the following morning, in anything like proper time.
The first portion of our journey on Thursday led us into a fine cluster of villages and churches on the edge of the great northern moor, and three hours distant from Ambohimanga: and here our men rested for their morning meal. Resuming our road we soon left all population behind. The moor was high, bare and cold. It was not a level; but was scored into lines of low hills, the forms of which were full of beauty. We crossed the Zabo, the fountains of which we had seen among the round hills of Ambátovóry and Angavokely, many miles to the south-east: it has a strong, full stream of water and is one of the four chief tributaries which form the Betsiboka river. All day on these high lands the south-east wind blew hard and cold, and our poor bearers suffered greatly. At five o’clock we reached Ambatomainty, a village of twelve houses, but without house or chapel in which we could rest. Our tent was soon set up; and bravely stood the wild wind which blew all night. And when we were fairly enclosed, and the tea-table was duly arranged (on three overland trunks) we felt snug and comfortable.
On Friday morning a thick fog lay on the hills and we could scarcely see our road. When it lifted we saw on the east of the Ambatomainty ridge a long, unbroken valley coming from the moors on the south-east and going away north-west, full of rice, and drained by the Tsárasáhatra, which, like the Zabo, has its springs in the buttresses of Angavokely. At this point both rivers are small. Near by are two small villages, Mangatany with one of our churches; and Andrainarivo, with a Roman Catholic chapel. Then came three beautiful patches of wood; “Boulder Glen;” and a small stream with two cascades. High hills, covered with wood showed themselves to the east. After a journey of fifteen miles over a country thoroughly bare and unpeopled, we mounted a lofty hill, Ambóhitsitâkatra, which gave us a fine prospect on every side. We fixed its position, with ease, by bearings from seven of the principal hills of Imerina: and made it the starting point of new positions to the north and west. On the west we had the deep valleys of Anátivólo: and the high hill of Vohiléna. On the south-east was the lofty cone of Ambóhitrakóholáhy, above the Beforona Wall: and to the east lay a great gneiss ridge covered with forest, which forms the western boundary of Ankay.
One interesting feature of our position was this. The gneiss hill on which we stood is on the watershed of the island: it forms part of the edge of the great granite moors, which go south to Angavokely: and beneath us on the east, was a broad basin, scored in all directions, a portion of that vast sedimentary clay region, which forms Ankay. It looked like network. This basin is drained by the river Mananára; it is enclosed between gneiss ridges: is full of rice fields and has a large cluster of villages. Early in the afternoon we reached the village of Anjozorobé; and took up our quarters in its neat chapel.
The place was wholly unknown to us. We had only its name in Grandidier’s map and on our list of native church stations. It proved a spot full of interest. The pastor of the church was a devoted, active worker; the school children were full of life and intelligence; and the congregation and its neighbours were striving to make progress in the knowledge and practice of their new faith. They gave us a warm welcome: and as they had not seen an Englishman’s face for five years, and entreated us to spend the Sabbath with them, we had no difficulty in so doing.
Saturday was a busy day. Mr. Sibree examined the school children. We visited together a high hill to the northward to take bearings: photographed the village and the ravine of the river; and attended to a large number of patients. The village is built on a high clay hill: it contains seventy houses with a population of less than four hundred souls; and the usual complement of fowls and pigs. The prospect from the chapel was very fine. To the north were high wooded hills. Beneath us to the west was the basin of the river, which wound through it with the most graceful bends: and the edges of the basin, and its numerous cuttings were curved with such beautiful lines, as made it certain that the place had been formed by running water, and was at one time a portion of a great lake. The river Mananára is here a hundred and fourteen feet wide, from two to five feet deep, and runs with a strong and rapid stream. It is crossed by a fixed bridge in two spans: each span being composed of three balks of timber of a scantling of eighteen inches by sixteen. We had seen the fountains of this fine river near Ambatomena: where they water one of the largest rice fields in all Imerina and feed some five thousand human beings. We found with interest that the population of this basin are closely connected with the people of Ambatomena and its neighbourhood.
We spent a delightful Sunday with them. At the outset came some twenty patients, suffering chiefly from chills and fever. The congregation was large for the place, and additions from distant villages kept coming in till near the close of the service: when the place was thoroughly filled with over three hundred people. Our “native chaplain,” who had helped us so much on the Itasy journey, preached the first sermon: then Mr. Sibree took for his text “God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son.” Very earnest and intelligent listeners did the people prove. One could not look upon their devout demeanour, their clean dress, the self-respect manifest in the faces of both men and women, and hear the correct answers given by them to their instructor, without feeling what a powerful influence the gospel exercises, in elevating, controlling and sanctifying all life. For five years pastor and people have been left to themselves, to the teaching of the Spirit, the teaching of His Word: and this was the result. In the afternoon we all went over to Ambohiveloma a flourishing village two miles to the westward: and found another good congregation, with a number of intelligent and devout young men. Away to the south is the village of Antoby, where lives a good old blacksmith, who has been the means of drawing a large number of people to the Saviour. Both in the morning and afternoon Mr. Sibree and our chaplain taught the congregations two new hymns and tunes, which have just come out in the Capital and with which they were greatly delighted.
On Monday, June 22d, we resumed our journey early: and towards midday approached the great inner belt of forest, which occupies so conspicuous a position in the geography of the country. It forms the western boundary of Ankay; appears in wonderful loveliness at Angavo; and continues in unbroken grandeur, west of the Tanála, and as far south as Ambóndrombé. It is not forest alone; it is a great gneiss wall, running down the entire length of the country, the edge of the upper plateau of the island: and the forest clothes and beautifies it. Near its inner side we crossed the branches of the small river Manánta, another feeder of the Betsiboka, running north-west. We crossed the ridge by a noble pass, Ambárabáram-vato, the “gate of rock.” A climb of five hundred feet from the clay plain brought us to the summit, a narrow ledge, about three yards wide: from whence we had an extensive view over the Ankay plain, as well as over the basin we had just quitted and its continuation to the west. We found that the hill on which we stood had a second summit a short distance away, called Ambohimila. We took important observations, to fix the hill: and through all our trip, its two lofty peaks proved a conspicuous landmark to which other points might be referred. We descended by a natural staircase of huge granite blocks: then reached the clay, which was very wet and slippery; crossed a low clay ridge, covered with forest, through which our palankins with difficulty found a way; and at last came into a fine long valley, bordered with noble hills, whereon the forest seemed thicker, richer and more lovely than ever. The total descent from the crest of the hill was 1280 feet. It will be remembered that at Angavo (a point on the same wall further south), our ascent was 1206 feet. On the outer side of the wall we observed hundreds of rounded buttresses, with deep inlets between.
Though we had reached a comparative level and had rice fields around us, we looked in vain for a village, where our men might get their first meal. And it was two o’clock before we halted at a little cluster of twelve houses, significantly named Mandánavátsy, “get your tiffin.” To travellers coming from the Sihánaka territory, in the direction opposite to our own, it conveys the excellent advice, “Make a good meal before you go farther; you will find nothing to eat for hours.” We took the advice on the way back. Having rested for two hours, we continued our journey; and winding round and through richly wooded hills, we came at sunset, to a clump of seven houses, called Ambatolampy, with a few others scattered about. In one or two huts, now deserted, there had been cases of small-pox, but the men carefully avoided them. Where they all found accommodation, I was afraid to enquire. I only know that our three servants slept somehow within the photograph tent, four feet square. We had the eleven feet for ourselves; and had it not been for the mosquitoes might have slept comfortably.