Caviare sans Ice.
Asparagus Soup.
Oti Fish.
Ragoût à la Mangu en escallop.
Saddle of Pork à la Konkombwa.
Peaches à la tin.
Frothed White of Eggs, Cream, Sauce Vanilla.
Cheese sticks.
Coffee. Liqueurs.
Wines.
Madeira. Claret. Champagne.
On the dinner-table was a miniature Christmas tree, which had been sent all the way from Germany by Captain von Hirschfeld's mother, and after we had finished eating we gathered round it and toasted absent friends in champagne. I had not looked forward at all to this particular Christmas. In fact, I had rather dreaded it, fearing that it would bring with it more of regret than of pleasure, but as a matter of fact I thoroughly enjoyed it. For one thing, I found it hard to realise, owing to the climate and surroundings, that it was really Christmas; for another, everybody was so kind and hospitable that one could not help feeling merry and jolly. On New Year's Eve we had another little party, and on the stroke of midnight we set fire to about three thousand feet of old celluloid films. The inflammable stuff blazed up fiercely of course, directly a match was applied to it, and made a splendid bonfire.
I have alluded already to the big plantations round about Mangu. Most of these are thriving, but as regards some of them, considerable damage has been done by a species of beetle with huge saw-like forceps. It was pitiful to ride along the plantation roads, and see hundreds and hundreds of fine trees all dead or dying, killed by these insect pests. Every effort has been made, Captain von Hirschfeld told me, to extirpate them, but in vain. In the plantations are many small antelope and immense flocks of guinea-fowl and francolin, the latter a bird resembling a partridge. The best sport of all, however, was afforded by a bird called out there a koran. It is a most comical-looking creature, not unlike a miniature ostrich, but, unlike the ostrich, it is a good flier. Schomburgk was quite an expert in shooting them; right and left—bang! bang! They were excellent for the pot, yielding two distinct kinds of meat, white and brown, arranged in layers like a cream and chocolate sponge-cake. They were so plump and fat that I used to cook them in their own grease, and we all agreed that they were better done that way, being delicious eaten hot, and even better cold. There were also quail in great numbers all round the station, which I used to roast, and serve on toast in the approved fashion. We also had antelope, as many as we cared to shoot. Their meat, which had a pleasant gamey flavour, made a nice change. The only drawback was that we had to eat it too fresh, as of course everything goes bad if kept overnight in this climate.
By permission of
Maj. H. Schomburgk, F.R.G.S.
Canoeing on the Oti River
This photograph was taken near Mangu. The portraits are those of Miss Gehrts, Major Schomburgk, and Captain von Hirschfeld, District Commissioner. The canoe is a heavy dug-out one, of exceedingly primitive construction.
The Oti River furnished us with fish in abundance. We rode down to it nearly every day, and once we went for a cruise in it on a big dugout native canoe. We started at seven in the morning, and got back at eleven. We were not able to go far, as the water was nearly at its lowest, but still it was very pleasant, and the scenery was very beautiful. Towards the end, however, the sun's rays, reflected back by the almost stagnant water, made things very oppressive. What it must be like in the summer I can only faintly imagine. From a sand-bank where he had stalked it, Hodgson shot a very fine paauw—a kind of bustard—with his rifle at about sixty yards, the bullet passing clean through its neck. It was, of course, a fluky shot, but Hodgson was awfully proud of it, nevertheless.