Wild life under the equator

by Paul B. Du Chaillu

Over my bed was a covering of leaves to protect me from the rains.

At last I was too feeble to rise and quench my thirst in the little stream near where my camp was made, or to go there and bathe my burning head. So the kind women got water and bathed my head. I could not eat, for I had nothing. At times I thought that if I could only have a little piece of dry bread, how much I should relish it! I could bear the plantains and the wild berries and fruits no longer. There were days when I felt so lonely, so wretched, so poor, so helpless, that the tears rolled down my cheeks. The days of my boyhood came back before me, for they had been happy days. Then, instead of a piece of wood, I had a soft pillow to lay my head upon; then there were gentle hands that caressed me when I was sick. Where was that cosy little bed now? What a contrast! I thought of the friends of my youth—of little Lucy, of Julia, and Laura, and Jessie. What had become of beautiful little Lottie, with her fair hair, and of charming little Maggie, with her dark hair? What friends we had once been! Lottie had been like a sister to me. I wondered if they thought sometimes of me, or if some of them might have gone to heaven. What had become of them? I knew that, if they were by, they would take care of “little Paul,” as they used to call me.

I remembered the ladies that were so kind to me when I had no mother to care for me; I knew that if I had any thing good and amiable in my nature they had taught it to me.

REMEMBRANCES.

Where were all my playmates? How we would have laughed if any one had said that little Du Chaillu would one day go into unknown countries, where no white man had been before, and there spend the best days of his life, and be, as his fathers of old were, a chevalier errant.

I remembered my two tiny little black ponies which my father had given me, and how kind he had been to me, and I also remembered my good nurse Rosee. My heart was sore and heavy, and I could not help thinking of the happy days gone by; for I was but three-and-twenty, with the world still bright before me, when I was thus sick and lonely.

The stars peered through the dark foliage of the forest trees. How beautiful and bright they looked, reminding me of the heavens whither our spirits go! I thought of my mother, and where she might be, and wondered if she could see me as I lay alone in that dark forest under the big tree. I remember how I said, Oh, my mother, my heart is sore and weary, I want to come to thee!

Such were often my thoughts when lying so ill under the big tree. I knew not if I should see the morrow. So I prayed God to care for me.

One day, after feeling so sad, I went to sleep; when I awoke my Bakalai men had returned from the hunt and were watching over me, and I felt relieved. God had taken care of me. Days went by, and I regained slowly my strength; my men went out hunting and brought me game, the women of the country went out fishing and brought me fish, the people brought me food. None of them wanted their Ntangani to die. They were all kind to me in that far country where they might have killed and plundered me.

I shall always remember Quengueza. I do love old Quengueza; nor shall I ever forget old Anguilai, the Bakalai chief who, when I was so ill, gave the only goat he had for me to eat, to make me strong, he said. It was the goat that he had laid by for a wife.