DINNER WITH THE DWARFS.
As the time of our departure from Niembouai had arrived, I said to the Dwarfs that I must bid them good-by, for I was going away toward where the sun rises. "Now you see," said I, "you have always been afraid of me. Tell me, have I done harm to any one of you?" "No, no," they exclaimed; "no, no," said my friend Misounda. So I shook hands with them, and they said to me in parting, "You will see more little Dwarfs in the countries where you are going. Be kind to them, as you have been to us."
As I walked on through the jungle, my mind kept dwelling on the strange Obongos. "If you want one of them to take away with you," said my Ashango guide, "we will capture one for you, if you will give us beads and copper rings." "No, no," said I, "the Spirit does not want to capture people; he wants only to see people."
Now I must tell you what I think of these Obongos. I think that they are the very same people of whom Herodotus and Homer had heard; that they are closely allied to the Bushmen of South Africa, for the hair on their heads grows in the same way; only they are darker in color, and in that respect seem to be a shade between the negro and the Bushman. They are also a little shorter in stature than the Bushmen, and I have a strong belief that in times past they belonged probably to the same nation.
And now we must take leave of the Dwarfs, for I am to talk to you of the great negro tribes in whose country the little creatures live. If I should learn any thing more about the Dwarfs as I go forward, I will surely relate it to you.
