This was not all. While threading these numerous rivers in their little steamboats, the explorers found many new peoples who had been buried from the world's view in the dark Congo forests or on the vast inland plains. You have read of the ancient troglodytes and of the prehistoric lake-dwellers of Europe. Proofs of their existence are found among the earliest evidences of human life; but the Congo basin to-day has two large centres of lake-dwellers. Many thousands of people live in huts reared high on piles out of reach of floods; and a few lakes are dotted with these habitations, thus placed beyond the easy reach of enemies.
The explorers discovered the widespread haunts of the Batwa dwarfs—the keen little hunters who had been seen when Stanley wrote his book, The Congo. Their researches proved that the Congo basin is the greatest hotbed of cannibalism the world ever saw. These and many other discoveries kept geographers on the alert. Thus the Congo basin has contributed a chapter to geographical and anthropological discovery that has scarcely been surpassed in importance or romantic interest.
[THE BROKEN CHARGE.]
BY JAMES BUCKHAM.
Would you hear of the bravest, coolest deed
Ever inspired by a nation's need?
Thomas McBurney—a Kansas-bred Scot—
Lay in his rifle-pit, waiting a shot.
Over him whistled the enemy's balls;
Ping! and they struck in the rampart walls.
Suddenly out of the woods there broke
A line of cavalry gray as smoke.
A troop—a regiment—a brigade.
Oh! what a rush and a roar they made!
A wild, swift charge on the frail redoubt,
Carbines ready and sabres out.
Hither and thither, like frightened hares,
Fled the sharpshooters out of their lairs.
All save Thomas McBurney; he
Thought not first what his fate might be.
Uppermost thought in his hero soul,
To save the fort, and the field control.
On they thundered, the cavalcade.
McBurney waited; his plan was made.
Fifty yards from his cairn of rocks—
Up he popped, like a Jack-in-the-box!
Bang! and the leader's horse went down,
Neck outstretched in the wire-grass brown.
Over him tumbled a dozen more,
And the Colonel—his heart and his head were sore.
"Halt!" he cried, and the broken line
Stopped, strung out like a trailing vine.
Lo! in the valley's dim expanse
Tossing flags and bayonets' glance.
Re-enforcements! At double-quick
They cross the meadows and ford the creek—
Boys in blue, with their banners bright,
Just in season to turn the fight.
Thomas McBurney, as cool as you please,
Settled down on his dust-grimed knees.
To pray? Yes, thankfully—and to run
A well-greased cartridge into his gun!
[THE VANISHED ISLAND.]
"Let her go off a little, Ralph; you'll come out better in the end if you don't jam your boat too close to the wind. Keep your sail full, even if you don't point quite so high, and you'll go faster through the water, and get quicker to the place you're bound to."
So spoke Grandfather Sterling one summer afternoon to his grandson as the old Captain's cat-boat Mabel was being tacked across the bay, after a day spent in picnicking on one of a number of the little islands that were to be found within a few miles of the Captain's down-east home.