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TWELVE MONTHS IN MADAGASCAR.

ANTANANARIVO.—MEMORIAL CHURCH AND ROCKS AT ÁMPAMARÍNANA.

TWELVE MONTHS

IN

MADAGASCAR.

BY

JOSEPH MULLENS, D.D.,

FOREIGN SECRETARY OF THE LONDON MISSIONARY SOCIETY.

NEW YORK:

ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS,

535 BROADWAY.

1875.

PREFACE.

In adding another to the list of works written about Madagascar I have been anxious to confine its contents to what was special to our visit. During that visit my colleague and I enjoyed unusual opportunities of observing various matters relating to the country and the people in the principal portions of the island. Being deputed to visit the Government and the Churches, by those who had befriended them for more than fifty years, we were cordially welcomed everywhere, and were permitted to see and examine all we wished. The portion of the country which we visited was very extensive. We saw in all their length and breadth the two Central Provinces of the island, Imérina and the Betsileo: we visited the Sihánaka Province, and left the island by the north-west route and the Port of Mojangá. Everywhere we came into closest contact with the native Churches: to an extent that no Englishman, missionary or traveller, had ever done before.

We saw the religious life of the people on the large scale; not merely in its details in a single locality: but as it shows itself in all parts, the most advanced and the most ignorant. We can say much on the things we saw in various localities. We can also testify that the great religious revolution, which is said to have taken place in Madagascar, is a REAL THING: that it has affected and improved the nation most powerfully at its heart, in the Capital and Imerina: and that its effects are also real and truly beneficial far away in the interior, and even at extreme points on the coast.

We shared in most important consultations of the missionaries, respecting the actual position of things, and the form and extent to which Christian work should be carried on in the future. We were in constant communication with the members of the Norwegian, the Friends’, and the Medical Missions. We held most pleasant intercourse with the Authorities, and were present at several important public gatherings. We were honoured with a formal reception by the Queen and a formal farewell.

Being aware of great defects in our geographical knowledge of the interior of Madagascar, we prepared ourselves before leaving England to gather new information. In all our journeys we took observations: and we have prepared a new Map of the Country which we traversed. Among the special results of this geographical exploration, we may note, the discovery of a wide-spread volcanic region, including a hundred extinct craters; the delineation of Lake Itasy; the survey of the Sihánaka Province, with its fine Lake Aláotra; the survey of the Betsileo Province and of the District of Betáfo; and that of the route to Mojangá.

We have also gathered important information relative to the extent of the population. These questions were in many respects new to ourselves; we learned much respecting them: and that information we now lay before the many friends of the Mission.

Though deriving great help from the observations and views of my colleague, I alone am responsible for the statements contained in this little volume.

I will only add that in the pronunciation of the many Malagasy names which it contains, if the reader will kindly have regard to the accented syllables and pronounce the first three vowels a, e and i as the Italians do, and the vowel o as they pronounce their u, he will not go far wrong.

J. M.

Canonbury, March 29, 1875.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

WHY AND HOW WE WENT TO MADAGASCAR.

CHAPTER II.

FIRST EXPERIENCES OF MADAGASCAR AND ITS PEOPLE.

CHAPTER III.

VISIT TO THE BETSILEO PROVINCE.

CHAPTER IV.

RETURN TO THE CAPITAL.

CHAPTER V.

HOW IT STRIKES A STRANGER.

CHAPTER VI.

THE LAND AND THE PEOPLE OF MADAGASCAR.

CHAPTER VII.

LAKE ITASY AND THE VOLCANIC REGION.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE SIHANAKA PROVINCE AND PEOPLE.

CHAPTER IX.

OUR JOURNEY TO MOJANGÁ.

CHAPTER X.

OUR RETURN HOME.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

CHAPTER I.

WHY AND HOW WE WENT TO MADAGASCAR.

Religious Revolution in Madagascar—The Idols burned—Increased Help sent from England to the Mission—A Deputation appointed to visit the Island—Our Journey thither—Marseilles—Naples—Fellow-passengers—The Suez Canal—Aden—The Indian Ocean—Mauritius—The Bullockers—Passage across—Tamatave; the Town, Port, and Market—English and Native Friends—Sunday—The Native Churches and their Worship—Help they need—Importation of Rum into Madagascar and its evils—The Trade of Madagascar.

TWELVE MONTHS IN MADAGASCAR.

CHAPTER I.
WHY AND HOW WE WENT TO MADAGASCAR.

On the 8th of September 1869, a religious revolution took place in Madagascar. The priests and diviners of the idol Kelimaláza came to the Queen, and urged that, like her predecessors, she should again take the idol into her palace, and place her whole kingdom under its protection. The Queen had, from the commencement of her reign, eighteen months before, taken her stand as a Christian; and in the previous February, in the presence of her people, had been baptized as a Christian. Her husband, the Prime Minister, and an influential body of nobles and officers, had adopted the same faith: and Christianity was making great strides among her subjects generally. The keepers of the three national idols had in consequence been deposed from their position as keepers of the ruler’s conscience, as directors of lucky and unlucky days, and as instigators of the persecutions, from which the land had suffered great harm. They had also been deprived of their special privileges. They were no longer Andríans, entitled to the scarlet umbrella, exempt from the jurisdiction of the ordinary Courts, and having the power of life and death over their own clan; they were simply Hovas, and were bound to render to their sovereign that feudal service, to which all other members of the tribe were subject. All this was trying enough. Men, who have long enjoyed exclusive privileges at others’ expense, are usually dissatisfied when their vested interests are set aside without compensation. And when, in the month of June, the Queen laid the foundation of her Chapel Royal, and summoned these priestly families to do their share in building it, they made a last desperate attempt to recover their former position. They came to the Queen and urged her to place the land under the idols once more.

The occasion was felt to be an important one. There was a hurried consultation. A large number of officers was summoned; and a discussion commenced among them as to how the difficulty should be met. A happy suggestion offered by one of them, that the idols should be burned, was heartily approved by all. Due authority was given by the Queen, and several officers were at once dispatched on horseback to the village where the chief idol was kept. Arrived at the idol-house, the leader went in and brought the idol out, “Whose idol is this?” he asked of the bystanders. “It belongs to the Queen,” was their reply. “If this idol be mine,” saith Ránaválo-manjáka, “I need it not: let it be burned.” And burned it was, with all its trappings, to their consternation and grief. The other royal idols shared the same fate.

The event produced a profound sensation throughout the country. By the theory and the practice of Malagasy public life, the Queen had a perfect right to decide as she had done. But her subjects were not behind their sovereign. Public opinion had been rapidly ripening on the subject, and there was no hesitation as to the course that should be followed. The next day, all over Imérina, the private idols of villages and families were also brought forth: bundles of clothes and charms, round which the superstitious fears of many generations had clustered, were committed to the flames; and soon a little heap of ashes was all that remained of the outward symbols of a faith that had been held by the Malagasy races since their first fathers landed on the island. The revolt from the system was complete. From all quarters came the inquiry, “Whom does the Queen worship? How is that worship conducted? What are we to do?” From all quarters was heard the request, “Send us teachers: send us books.” Chapels were hastily erected all over the province, even in remote villages. And the resources of the native Churches, of the English Mission, and of the Mission Press, were taxed to the utmost to supply the nation’s wants.

Profound as was the sensation produced by the burning of the idols abroad, it was not less deeply felt at home. The greatness of the event was discerned: its spiritual significance was instantly appreciated. No such event had occurred in the history of Christendom before: no such multitude of willing men and women had ever knocked for admission at the Church’s door in a single year. It was the fruit of the long and painful persecution of twenty-eight years. It was the fruit of the faithfulness of the martyrs, dead and living, upon whose sufferings and fidelity all Christendom had looked with sympathy. It was the answer to the thousands of prayers which those sufferings had called forth.

The case was thoroughly appreciated. A few enthusiasts might talk of Madagascar as christianized, and think it needed Christian help no longer. But the Committees of Missionary Societies, the men who have been dealing with the practical life of heathen nations for many years, and have been studying the many problems involved in their redemption, were not likely to make that mistake. A new born child is not the educated, thoughtful, self-denying man, he some day may be. With his birth and growth the trials and responsibilities of parents begin. Many a missionary has found that his work in instructing the heathen was as nothing, compared with the labour, anxiety and trial, which fell to his lot, when he began to gather converts around him, and by God’s help endeavoured to train them to holiness and trust, while “the world, the flesh, and the devil” were drawing them back again to evil. With the thankfulness and congratulations which this great change inspired in the friends of the Imerina Mission, it was felt that new duties of a most serious kind devolved upon them; and the Directors of the London Missionary Society, who had maintained that mission and had aided the Malagasy Churches for more than fifty years, determined without delay to enlarge the mission by all the agencies which the crisis called for. Large sums of money were contributed almost unasked; and within the five years that have since elapsed twenty English missionaries have been added to the staff previously labouring in the island. It was resolved to commence new stations, and to enlarge and strengthen the Theological and Normal Schools; to increase and stimulate general education; and to make the Press more efficient. Other Christian missions, working in cordial co-operation with the London Missionary Society, were enlarged at the same time.

Nothing could be more desirable than that these increased agencies should be carefully applied so as to produce the largest amount of good. Especially was it felt to be important that every English missionary, expected to be a fountain of wisdom and of spiritual power to the simple people around him, should be located in a position that would call forth all his strength, and give to his abilities and influence the widest scope. As time went on it seemed increasingly difficult to secure these important ends. Much as we heard from abroad, and much as we wrote to Madagascar from London, it grew more plain that no amount of correspondence would suffice to convey to us and to them all the information as to details which it was desirable for each side to know; especially when that correspondence was frequently interrupted and delayed by its transit through one of the most inefficient mail-services known to the civilised world, the service between Bourbon and Madagascar. The conviction grew that nothing would suffice for the accomplishment of our purpose, nothing would supply all missing links and make co-operation complete, but that two or three Directors of the Society should proceed to the island, and that the missionaries and these Directors, as “friends in council,” should together shape the new scheme, which the enlarged mission imperatively required. It was felt to be an additional advantage that, by visiting the island, the members of such a deputation would have an opportunity of meeting the native pastors and native churches, and of assuring them both of the warm affection in which they were still held by their old friends, and of the gladness with which they would still be aided in their new and pressing wants. The Rev. John Pillans of Camberwell, a Director of the Society, and myself were honoured with the appointment; and after several impressive services, in which we were affectionately commended to the divine protection, and the divine blessing was sought on our expedition, we set out on our journey. Mrs. Pillans also accompanied us.

A pleasant day between Paris and Lyons, followed by a hot and weary night, brought us to Marseilles, our port of embarkation. Marseilles is now a great city, with six hundred thousand inhabitants; and its new streets, in solidity, breadth, and grandeur, compare favourably with those of Paris. The trade passing through the city is enormous. Its new quay and harbour are crowded with steamers, which connect it by commercial ties with all the ports of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea, and which in recent years have extended their lines to India, China, and Japan; while, conspicuous to all eyes, on its rocky hill, stands the church of Notre Dame de la Garde, the shrine at which the sailors of Marseilles have registered their vows and paid their thanks, from the day when, two thousand five hundred years ago, the Greek colonists of Phocæa founded the city of Massilia, and erected their first temple. Perhaps no shrine in Europe can boast of such a long and unbroken line of worshippers.

Our steamer was the Amazone, of the fleet of the Messageries Maritimes, a noble vessel of 2000 tons, bound for Shanghai and carrying the Eastern mails. We found her accommodations excellent; large cabins, a good table, attentive servants, an obliging captain, efficient officers, and a most muscular crew. What a mixture of nations we found among our fellow-passengers! There were Spaniards, French, Portuguese, English, Italians, and Japanese. Our Japanese companions were members of the Commission which had been visiting the Vienna Exhibition.

We started from the jetty punctually at ten, on the morning of the 6th of July. With a smooth sea and clear sky we passed rapidly through the Straits of Bonifacio, and were unexpectedly gratified by a brief visit to the city and bay of Naples. What painter can do full justice to the delicate hues of sea and sky at that fair spot? The harbour of Hong Kong and the bay of New York are, in their finest aspects and under the purest skies, truly beautiful; but there is a perfection of loveliness in the sheen of the air, the play of the colours, and the transparent clearness of the Bay of Naples that nothing can surpass. Leaving Naples at nine in the morning, at sunset we were close to Stromboli, with its cindery cone; and at midnight, with six men at the wheel, the Amazone passed steadily through the swirling currents of the Straits of Messina, under a magnificent moon. The long line of lights in the town of Messina, the dark rocks of the Italian coast, with Reggio at their feet; the firing of the gun, the burning of the blue lights, and the brilliant night made up a charming scene. We saw Candia in its entire length, with Mount Ida and its line of rugged hills; passed close to Gozo, the little island of Clauda, where the apostle Paul and his companions fell into the hurricane; and at sunrise on Saturday, six days from Marseilles, anchored at Port Said, the entrance to the Suez Canal.

There came on board at Naples a number of gentlemen in whom we felt considerable interest, and who proved agreeable companions. They were silk merchants from various cities of Italy, engaged in the endeavour to restore the Italian silk-trade, which has in recent years been almost ruined by disease among the worms. They make an annual voyage to Japan, and bring back with them enormous quantities of the best silkworms’ eggs. These are stowed in a special compartment of the vessel, iced to keep them cool, and a heavy freight is paid for the accommodation. Our new passengers were a tall, manly body of men; many of them had the unmistakeable Roman face and features; and when one saw them at dinner, enlivening the tedium of the seven courses with the hearty laugh and witty repartee, one felt that classical life was coming home very freshly, and could realise it more distinctly than before.

We were charmed with the Suez Canal. It is a great work, simply but effectually done. We saw the powerful dredgers busily engaged in maintaining its depth; we passed steadily through it without a hitch; we saw with interest the little stations; the white town of Ismailia, with its water-works and railway station; the two bitter lakes, no longer dry; the cuttings through low hills of limestone and gypsum; and at length entered the green Bay of Suez at its southern end. Anchored between the “Fountains of Moses” on the eastern shore, and the “Rock of Deliverance” on the west, we witnessed one of the most golden sunsets I have seen in the Eastern world. This easy passage from the Red Sea to the Mediterranean has revolutionised the carrying trade of the East. The great fleets of sailing ships which in former years rounded the Cape with the silk and tea of China, with the indigo and jute, the sugar and tea, the silk and cotton of India, the Ariel and Taeping, the Hotspur, and Renown, and City of Calcutta, and their companions, of which the mercantile world was justly proud, have passed away, and have given place to lines of steamers which swarm in every port of the Indian seas, and which at small expense bring home their precious cargoes without hindrance through the simple green lane of the Suez Canal. There is, however, one drawback to the satisfaction with which the new arrangement is carried out,—the fee paid for the passage. The “little bill” presented to the Amazone for its seventeen hours’ work amounted to £1400!

The Red Sea is proverbially hot in June, July, and August, and we found it hot indeed. For five days the thermometer ranged between eighty-seven degrees at night and ninety-eight degrees by day; but the heat was tempered by pleasant winds; and no one seemed distressed by it, except those who drank large quantities of claret and water to keep them cool. Under circumstances peculiarly favourable, our noble steamer pressed forward with perfect steadiness, and after a run of four days and a half from Suez, anchored on Friday morning in Aden harbour.

The general verdict of Indian visitors respecting Aden, is that it is a “horrid hole.” Certainly the scenery is not brilliant, it is deficient in verdure; and in the middle of the year, with wild west winds, the thermometer stands nearer one hundred degrees than ninety degrees. Nevertheless Aden has an interest of its own; and associations of deep interest cluster around it. The peninsula of Aden, which cuts off from the sea a wide landlocked harbour is formed by an immense volcano, a mile wide in the interior and having huge walls and buttresses of cindery lava all around it. It is a weird-looking place; but it has for many ages been a helper to the commerce of the world. An outpost of India, well governed, it has long been the protector of the overland trade and a good coaling station. Its importance has increased with the opening of the Canal; and at times several steamers call every day for water, ice, and coal. Beyond this Aden was, next to Zanzibar, the principal station of the most ancient commerce of the world. The Phenicians knew and used it before the days of Hiram. The fleets of Solomon called there on their way to Cochin and Malabar, whence, after their three years’ voyage, they bore to Judea “the ivory, ebony, apes, and peacocks” described by their Indian names in the sacred records. To Solomon are attributed the cutting and completion of the great water tanks, which were rediscovered, cleansed, and enlarged by the government of India only eight years ago. From Aden went forth whole fleets of Phenician vessels, to the coasts of India and Africa; and in the middle ages it was one great stay of the eastern trade from which Europe had been entirely cut off.

After a three days’ delay in Aden, on board the Dupleix, the corresponding steamer to which we had been transferred, we again started for a fortnight’s voyage down the Indian Ocean to Mauritius. The Gulf of Aden we found hot but quiet; but the moment we passed the great limestone promontory of Cape Gardafui, though the thermometer fell fifteen degrees, we ran into a rough sea, which completely upset us all. For three days Mr. Pillans and I scarcely appeared on deck. To lie still and listless was most pleasant; we ate nothing, drank nothing, except water, and did nothing. But at the end of three days we grew accustomed to the motion, and life went on quietly as before. Mrs. Pillans suffered far more than we. The season of the south-west monsoon is well known in all the eastern seas, for its strong winds and wild waters. It is singular that the wind blows hardest near the African coast; no vessels going down that coast can face it with advantage; the steamers therefore shape their course far out in the direction of Ceylon, and bend round toward the south, when the wind and sea fall lighter. In this way we crossed the line, skirted the Calvados reef, made acquaintance with the south-east trade wind, and in due time anchored at Port St. Denis, in the Island of Bourbon. Here we received a hundred and forty-five passengers, who were going over to Mauritius to see the races. We had a very rough night, and they were all violently ill; the appearance of many next morning was pitiable, and looking at the results, I doubt not many would ask whether the “game” was worth the “candle” paid for it. The next morning we reached Port Louis.

I cannot dwell on our little visit to the Mauritius; the island is well known and has only recently been well described. We found many friends and received the kindest hospitality and help at their hands. We travelled along the railways; saw the charming bits of scenery with which this volcanic island abounds; and visited the Pamplemousse Gardens, in which I found many old Indian friends. The fan palm and the betel-nut, the talipot of Ceylon, the poinsettia, the Ponciana regia, and the Bouganvillier creeper were represented by fine specimens. More pleasant still was it to visit the market, full of the Indian grains and vegetables; to handle once more dàl and rice; to see the huge melons, the cucumbers and tomatoes, of which the people of India are so fond; and to talk Hindustani to the coolies and traders, while asking of their welfare and the whereabouts of their Indian homes. Most pleasant of all was it, to meet on the Sunday a little congregation of Indians at the station of the Church Missionary Society, and preach to them in Bengali, the tongue with which I had been most familiar during the years of my Indian life. The week passed rapidly away; and as one of the regular “liners” was about to cross to Madagascar, we prepared to take our passage in her.

The vessels which regularly run between Port Louis and Tamatave are termed “bullockers.” They bring from Madagascar the rice, hides, and india-rubber, which are usual articles of trade: but their principal freight is live bullocks, intended to supply the meat market of Mauritius, and the quarter of a million coolies who purchase their supplies therein. I had often heard of these bullockers, and read about them. I remembered the story of the amiable captain, who having quarrelled with Mr. Ellis’s orchids, directed his boy to pour over them a kettle of boiling water. My colleague and myself visited two of these vessels, in the harbour of Port Louis, and found them an interesting study. The absence of all paint, the rusty iron work, the damaged rigging, the rotten steering-gear, and the filthy cabins, fully justified the warnings of our friends against accepting a passage in them, even if accompanied by a handsome remuneration. One of them had its living freight on board, and we were witnesses to the astonishment and indignation with which the dumb creatures, after their long confinement, found themselves suddenly dropped into the water and compelled to swim ashore for their lives. To style a ship like this “a horrid hole,” is not really disrespectful. To say that as an abode for human beings, it is a disgrace to civilisation, is mild and moderate language compared with the facts. The bullock trade must be the Botany Bay or the Cayenne of the shipping world; and on the vessels employed in it no Committee of inquiry need sit long.

In a bullocker we must go: but happily the vessel about to sail was one of the safest of her class; and the owners and officers endeavoured to make us comfortable. Had they had time to paint the saloon and cabin, they would probably have been of some definite colour: at all events the boy assured us that he had washed them out; but over their condition in general, and that of the cabin-table in particular, let us draw the veil of silence. We managed well, as Englishmen can do anywhere. Captain Gilman was kindness itself; a smart sailor, a genial companion, and a most attentive nurse to the sick, he did his best to render our passage safe and pleasant. With a fair wind and moderate sea, the little barque sped on her way over the six hundred miles of water; and sixty-nine hours after leaving Port Louis, on Thursday, August 14th, we anchored behind the reef at Tamatave.

We received a hearty welcome from both English and native friends, who had heard of our coming, and were soon provided with a comfortable home. The native officers in charge of the Custom-House were most courteous and attentive on the subject of our baggage; and early on the following day it was cleared and under our command. Within twenty-four hours, more than half of it, not required for our own journey, was on its way to the capital; and we had leisure to attend to a few matters of importance, which it was well for us to examine. For this promptitude we were largely indebted to the agents of the Society, Messrs. Procter & Co., who assisted us in every way.

Much has been written about Tamatave, almost the only safe and sheltered port on the east coast of Madagascar. Every traveller describes it: it is the place at which he receives his first impressions, and makes his first acquaintance with the Malagasy people. I will therefore pass over it briefly, as we saw in it nothing new.

Tamatave is built on a long spit of sand, four hundred yards wide, which joins the main land to a fine coral reef off the coast. The reef is long and massive; and the wild sea, driven onward by the strong trade winds, was bursting over it in great creamy waves and clouds of spray. In the centre of the reef is a somewhat narrow opening, which would render entrance and exit difficult, were it not that shifts of wind and breezes from the land, as well as from the sea, give friendly assistance to those who bring their vessels to the port. Once in, a ship finds a complete shelter in the curved bay which the reef and the sand combine to form. The town presents to the eye nothing striking or beautiful. Approaching it from the sea, a long line of misty hills is seen in the background, throwing forward many spurs and lower ridges into the narrow plain. The shore is fringed with wood and brush, conspicuous in which are seen a few mangoe trees and some fine specimens of the pandanus; while along the line the feathery fronds of the cocoanut tree stand clear against the sky.

The town contains six hundred houses, and about three thousand people. It is nearly square in shape, with its south end rounded by the beach: the streets run parallel to the sea. The common houses of the people are mean and frail, formed from light wood or bamboo; and thatched and panelled with the stalks, bark, and leaves of the traveller’s tree, which is abundant in the neighbouring hills. The principal street is near the shore, and has on both sides, but especially on the east, the houses of English and French residents, including the handsome new house of Mr. Pakenham, the English Consul. The gardens (or “compounds,” as they are termed in India) of these houses are large; and several of them extend to the sea. At the north end of the town, beyond a sandy plain covered with pandanus trees, is the Battery or native fort. It consists of a double wall and stockade, with low arched gateways, and encloses the house of the Governor and dwellings of some kind for the officers and garrison around him. The place is in a most dilapidated condition; and should the garrison ever be besieged, it is to be hoped they will fire no guns in their defence, since the firing will bring down the entire place about their ears. The native town has no shops. Indeed, shops are an institution unknown in Madagascar. In Tamatave as elsewhere, an open market is held, which contains a number of stalls or benches made of clay. On these are laid the various articles exposed for sale. The food sold in the market includes rice of several kinds, manioc root (a coarse tapioca, very nourishing, and a favourite food with every one); potatoes; and pieces of beef. The fruits were coarse but plentiful, including cocoa-nuts, pine-apples, plantains and bananas, melons and oranges. The cattle are a frisky race, and as a rule, appear to enjoy the excitement of a market-day as much as the population. Sanitation is unknown in Madagascar; and mud-pools, heaps of decaying leaves, and refuse generally, rotting in the heated air, have much to do with the fevers and other diseases which are so abundant among the people of the coast districts.

We spent four pleasant days in Tamatave. We paid our respects to the Governor, Rainifiringa, and received a hearty welcome from him and his officers. He speaks English tolerably well, and talked to us much about his visit to England in 1864, when he was sent as envoy to explain the views of his Government respecting the English and French treaties. He invited us to dine with him on the following day, when we met several members of his family, and spent a most agreeable afternoon. We visited also the English Consul, Mr. Pakenham, and had much interesting conversation with him on matters connected with the progress of the island. On every hand, we met with courtesy and kindness. The French Vice-Consul kindly provided us with a house for ourselves and our numerous packages. And the twenty Hindu and Parsi traders, who have found their way from India, were glad to welcome one who could talk to them in their own tongue about the home and land which they long to see again. Special presents were sent to us both from the Churches of Tamatave, and from the Governor, of geese and turkeys, fowls and eggs, as provisions for our stay.

Our most pleasant day in Tamatave was the Sunday, when, for the first time, we worshipped with the native Churches, of which we had heard so much, and to which Christian people in England are bound by so many ties. At eight o’clock we all went to the large church inside the battery, called Ambátomásina. It was a simple building of posts, panelled and roofed with leaves and stalks of the traveller’s tree; the roof was open, and the walls were lined with fine mats. We joined the Governor and the pastor, Andriantian, outside the church, and were invited to sit at the upper end. We found some five hundred people assembled. The women were seated on the floor to the right, and in the immediate centre; the men were on the left, and in the centre far away. A raised platform was provided for the preachers, on which stood a table, covered with a white cloth, and holding the Bible and hymn-book. There was also a white canopy above.

The form of worship followed by the Malagasy Churches connected with the London Missionary Society, resembles that which prevails among the Congregationalists, Presbyterians, and Wesleyans in England and America. It is based upon free preaching and free prayer. But the form is not identical with that of any one of these denominations; the singing, reading, prayer, and preaching are so varied in their order and extent, as to make it differ from all three. The form is Malagasy; it has become national and universal, and the people are much attached to it.

The first hour of the service, from eight to nine, was spent chiefly in singing hymns. In their tunes we recognised many old English friends, lengthened, shortened, twisted, and interpolated with grace notes, which rendered their identity somewhat doubtful. “Vesper” was one of these. And now we heard, for the first time, a hymn which is more popular than any other among the Christians of Madagascar. It stands No. 46 in the usual hymn-book. It was the composition of the late Rev. R. G. Hartley, and dwells in happy terms and in most musical rhythm upon the great theme of Jesus, the good Shepherd. The measure is anapestic; and when Mr. Richardson happily married it to a lively English tune, “Hail to the brightness,” &c., it so perfectly hit the Malagasy ear and Malagasy taste, that it went through the entire range of the Malagasy Churches in a few weeks. The people sing with great taste and feeling; their voices are sweet and clear, and the whole tone of their music is so plaintive and full of tenderness, that on this, as on many other occasions, it brought tears into my eyes. Even an English reader can discern the music of the following lines. The words are pronounced like Italian,—

“Jéso mpamónjy, mpiándry tokóa,

Ampiveréno hanárak ’Anáo.

Ondry mania, manáry ny sóa,

’Aza avéla hiál ’amináo.

“Varivaríana, sálasaláina,

Be ahiáhy, jeréo izaháy;

Ampianáro ny tsy-ari-sáina,

Ampitsaháro ny fánianáy.”

These hymns concluded, one of the officers read the Scriptures, and offered prayer. After another hymn, I gave them an address, which was interpreted by the Governor. Mr. Pillans followed in the same way. After another hymn and prayer, the pastor, Andriantian, delivered an earnest address, and concluded the service in the usual way. In the afternoon, we attended the service in the other chapel of Tamatave, and were kindly assisted by Mr. Samuel Procter.

The two congregations in Tamatave number eight hundred persons, and are composed, to a large extent, of the Hova families, which have come from the interior of the island on public duty. They have able pastors and preachers among them, and they are bound by many ties to the Christian Churches of Imerina. There are eighteen other congregations (of smaller size) in the low country, or at the road stations in the forest, and the whole include more than two thousand persons, young and old. During our stay in Tamatave, the two Churches, through their pastors, pressed earnestly upon us and on the Directors of the society, a request that they might have an English missionary. They need help: the smaller congregations need it even more than the larger; the station is an important one. The local population of Betsimasáraka have scarcely been touched by the gospel, have scarcely sent a child to school. Nevertheless, mere outposts cannot be conveniently supplied with English missionaries until the main positions have been occupied. The Madagascar Mission must be studied and planted as a whole. If ultimately it be decided that no English missionary can be spared, the Churches in the capital ought to give to Tamatave one of the best pastors at their command.

There is a special reason calling for the exercise of the best moral and religious influences upon the population of these sea-board towns, the fearful prevalence of drink. When the trade was made free by the half-mad king who ruled in Madagascar twelve years ago, and all custom-house duties were abolished, Mauritius rum was poured into the low country in large quantities, and the natives acquired a liking for it. Mr. Ellis describes some terrible scenes which he saw or heard of. Under Queen Rásohérina, the usual duty of ten per cent. was re-imposed, and it is continued under the present queen; but, under such a light duty, the trade flourishes. One English firm in the Mauritius imports into Madagascar thousands of barrels of the hateful stuff every year, and their stores are full of them. We saw the rum-barrels lying in dozens on the beach, and saw them rolled along the chief street of Tamatave at all hours of the day. In the stores of the petty Creole traders, and even in the Hindu houses, the barrel stood on tap. As a consequence, scenes of rioting, degradation, and drunkenness are common; and all the towns along the coast are infected by the same temptations, and the same evil example. When will the strong races of England and America learn that to debauch and ruin these young nations is a crime against humanity: that to place these strong temptations before ignorant, uncivilised tribes, with whom it is impossible to comprehend and forecast their dire consequences, is to ensure for them an immediate degradation, and to close the door against the future entrance of truth, and light, and virtue?

The Hova government of Madagascar disapprove the importation, and would gladly place it under heavy restrictions, if not stop it altogether; but their hold over the coast tribes is limited, and they fear a collision with the French on the subject. But one thing they did for several years, and, I believe, they do it still. As with cloth and Manchester goods, so with these rum barrels,—the duty is paid in kind. Every tenth barrel landed is handed over to the Custom-house, but the authorities will not handle the evil thing; they will not commute it for a money payment, and so the rum is poured upon the sands. I call that noble. While the civilised Englishman pours his flood of drink into the country, the simple, inexperienced native prince stands silently by, unable to resist, but resolutely refusing to soil his hands with the unhallowed gain. Ought not Christian Churches and Christian governments to help them in their difficulties? At the least, they should be empowered to impose repressive duties. Better would it be if spirits of all kinds were prohibited altogether. There are classes in the world for whom a Maine Law is just the right thing. Parents impose a Maine Law upon their children while under tutelage; why should not the simple tribes of the earth,—the Indian, the Tahitian, the Malagasy, while they remain simple,—be protected by the great nations from the dangers into which the love of drink must surely lead them?

Tamatave is the principal seat of the export trade of Madagascar. That trade is by no means great, though it is steadily on the increase. The trade in bullocks has always been considerable, since it was re-opened in 1854. In recent years it is in hides, bees’-wax, india-rubber, gum, tallow, and oil seeds that the increase has taken place. Many of these articles are brought from the interior; and the wages paid to bearers have, in consequence, greatly risen during the last four years. Large numbers of natives are employed in the forests collecting these articles for the English and American traders. A portion of the trade goes to England and America direct, but the greater part passes through the Mauritius. And it is because the bullocks form so large an item in the traffic, and large vessels are available a short distance off, to which other articles may be transferred, that the export trade clings so firmly to Tamatave on the east coast, and so many difficulties are found in re-opening the old line of export on the north-west of Madagascar at Mojangá. The native produce is paid for in Manchester goods,—“lambas” made in Lancashire looms, in crockery, pottery, iron vessels, knives, and tools. A part is paid for in rum. For another portion there is a large annual import of the French and Belgian five-franc pieces, which form the current “dollar” of the country. In 1863-4, the entire export and import trade amounted together to L. 100,000. In 1873 it stood thus—

CHAPTER II.

FIRST EXPERIENCES OF MADAGASCAR AND ITS PEOPLE.

East Coast of Madagascar, its Character and Population—Supplies needed by a Traveller to the Capital—Our Journey—Inland Lagoons—Park-like Scenery—Andevoranto—Ascend the Iharoka—“See the conquering Hero comes”—The Pass of Tániakóva—The Sorrows of the old Slave-system—System of our Journey—The great Ridge west of Befórona—Scenery of the Forest—The Plain of Ankay—The great Ridge of Angavo and its Forest—The Eastern Valleys of Imerina—Our Arrival and Reception—Population of the East Coast scanty—First Visits—The City empty—Why—Description of Antananarivo—Origin, Name, and Growth of the City—Interest of the Native Churches in our Visit.

CHAPTER II.
FIRST EXPERIENCES OF MADAGASCAR AND ITS PEOPLE.

The east coast of Madagascar, the first portion of the island usually seen by English and French travellers, possesses few attractions. It consists of an undulating plain, which is, in general, twenty miles broad. Along its western side the hills rise as a fine background to a very simple picture; first in long, low banks of clay, rounded and worn by streams; then in a mighty wall, covered with forest, which stretches away north and south as far as the eye can reach. Behind these noble hills, with their precipitous passes, lie the central provinces of the island, held by the ruling races, and by the largest portion of the population. These hills, and the ring of empty land which they bear upon their shoulders, are the defence of the interior tribes against foreign aggression. French colonists and adventurers of former generations tried in vain to hold forts upon the coast, and to establish a title to a permanent possession of some of its districts; but the lack of population, the constant fevers, and the consequent drain upon their own resources, rendered that hold feeble: and when at length the interior tribes had grown strong, and, under Radáma and his father, had become united under one authority, it was an easy task for them to march down to the east coast, and sweep away all opposition to the establishment of a single government, by which all the population should be headed and controlled.

The northern districts of the east coast beyond Tamatave are thinly peopled. Within twenty miles are the towns of Tintingy, Foule Point, and Fenoarivo, all of moderate size. In the fertile bottoms, abundance of rice is grown, and the cattle are numerous around the lower hills. Coal is said to exist near the head of Antongil Bay, though its extent and its quality are not known. Beyond this point the forest comes down to the coast; and north of 17° lat. S. there exist only forests, and a few good harbours. In the forest and beyond it, even on the east coast, all through Vohimáry, the population is Sakaláva, and has been derived from the west side of the island. The line of the east coast, from St. Mary’s southward, is very straight. As a rule, for three miles and more inland, it consists of a bed of sand, thrown up from the sea by the rough surf, and by the strong south-east winds; hence the absence of harbours, the open roadsteads, and the danger and delay which occur in communicating with the shore. On the other hand, the sandy deposit has closed the mouths of the numerous streams running from the hills, has caused the accumulation of water in pleasant lakes and lagoons, and has provided means for a system of inland navigation four hundred miles long, greatly surpassing in convenience and safety the coast transit on the open sea. Some day, the existing barriers to this navigation will be removed, the schemes of Radáma will be revived, and this fine line of inland canals will be rendered complete. The outlay required cannot be very great.

The traveller who would pass from the coast of Madagascar into the interior, in order to visit the capital, should be prepared for one thing,—that the conveniences and comforts of his journey must be provided by himself. He will find on the way no hotels, no furnished rooms for resting, eating, or sleeping; he will find no beds and no chairs, no crockery, no teapot, no knives and forks, no linen, and no spoons; he can buy neither tea, nor coffee, nor milk, neither salt nor sugar, neither butter nor bread; all these things he must provide for himself, and he had better purchase them in London before he starts. My colleague and I knew these facts beforehand; my correspondence with the missionaries had long rendered me familiar with the details and experiences of their many journeys; and to be forewarned was to be forearmed. We took with us, therefore, to Madagascar strong portable beds, with their bedding complete, portable chairs, a canteen, with plates and cups of enamelled iron, and spoons and knives that would not spoil by rough usage. We carried our tea and coffee, cocoa and sugar, our milk (in tins), and butter and bread (from Tamatave). We also had with us two small tents. We lightened our camp by sending forward our heavy baggage, and the stores not needed on the journey, under the charge of separate men. So provided, we enjoyed a very interesting and pleasant journey.

We left Tamatave on Tuesday, August 19, and for two days kept southward along the coast, with the purpose of reaching Andevoranto, where the road to the capital turns off into the interior. Our three palankeens required twenty-two men, and our baggage had twenty-six. I need not dwell at any length on our journey, for it has often been described by Mr. Ellis, by Mr. Sibree, and several of the missionaries; by Captain Oliver, and other military men. Its features have been carefully detailed, its stopping-stations are well known; and the experiences of one traveller, rough, serious, or amusing, have generally proved to be those of every other.

There is no road, properly so called, along the coast; we just followed a path, more or less broad, over the grassy glades, through patches of wood, or across the bare sand. Cocoanuts, plantains, a few palms, the fir, and the pandanus, were the usual trees,—familiar friends to me of years gone by,—but many trees were quite new. Passing through the village of Hivondro, we crossed the river, which here cuts through the sand-belt, and flows into the sea. Traversing fine, open glades, the bordering banks of which were beautifully curved, we came out upon the beach, and, for a long way, toiled over the dunes, or trode the firm, wet sand, upon which, with ceaseless roar, the long waves poured out their hissing foam. The coast was lined with the filao, a fir-tree closely resembling the casuarina, which grows well in Bengal, where it is known as the Sumatra fir. The filao is, however, native to Madagascar; its feathery hair hangs gracefully over its gnarled and knotted branches, and, with the strong winds, makes pleasant music. Fine clumps of these graceful trees continued all the way. Here and there the ferns appeared with strong fronds, and the leaves and branches of the pandanus were of great length.

A little north of Vavony, rocky hills, covered with wood, come down to the coast, and the inner lagoons are driven into the sea. We traversed one of these lagoons in a canoe for about three miles, and met with a strange experience. The lagoon was bounded by high hills, and at the bottom the mangrove was very thick. The water was not very deep, but it was full of small water-lilies, the leaves of which, on their under side, were a crimson pink in colour. The flower also was crimson. The water at first had a brilliant red tint, but, ere long, it became deeper, and it seemed to us all as if we were sailing on a river of blood. As the lagoon ended, the colour changed to a rich red gold.

Landing once more, we travelled to the clean village of Vavony, over a piece of country, which had all the appearance of a beautiful park. It contained sloping banks crowned with fir trees. Here stood the tree fern, and there the bamboo palm: here were fine specimens of the india-rubber tree with its glossy leaves; there tall, thick badamiers with their leaves of crimson; and there the path was arched by the pandanus. From some lofty trees hung huge, black, bees’ nests: the trunks of others were adorned with the Angræcum orchids, with their long spray of twelve white flowers; and from the strongest hung enormous creepers. Everywhere, winding in and out among the trees was the open grassy glade, on which a fine herd of red cattle was grazing.

From Vavony we had a canoe, and while the baggage kept the road, for ten miles we traversed a broad, still lagoon. It was bordered with high banks, covered with trees: and with two paddles, worked by strong arms, we had a delightful row to the village of Menarána, where we slept at the end of our second day. Early the following morning, we reached the Church Mission Station at Andevoranto, and put up in the empty mission-house. What a treat it was to spend a quiet day! We occupied the hours profitably, in readjusting baggage and stores, on the basis of the experience we had gained during our first two days’ travel. We also had pleasant interviews with members of the two congregations in this place and neighbourhood, and heard much from them respecting their religious wants. They are at present without a missionary. In the evening we had a heavy downpour of rain.

Continuing our journey on Friday morning, we turned our face at once towards the mountains: and for four hours we travelled in canoes up the river Ihároka and one of its tributaries. The river was two hundred yards broad, and the current, in its lower portion, ran about three miles an hour. Near Andevoranto, both sides of the river have great swamps, in which we saw growing many hundreds of the noble arum lily, the Astrapcæa Wallichii, with its thick trunk and broad scolloped leaves. Farther inland we came upon a row of the plants bearing the first flowers of the season: and they were in size and beauty so splendid, that a botanist like Mr. Ellis might well speak of them with enthusiasm. Our men paddled the canoe with spirit, and like boatmen in India, enlivened and regulated their stroke with measured cries and songs. Our water trip was exceedingly pleasant; light showers fell at intervals, producing numerous rainbows; beautiful flowers were growing on the banks, and birds of coloured plumage flew around us.

After a two hours run on a straight course, we came to the roots of the first hills; the river narrowed to a width of a hundred yards, the stream grew stronger, and became very winding. We passed several small villages, and soon left the main stream to turn into a little river, with a current of four miles an hour against us. There we cut the flowers of the Astrapæa. After a four hours’ pull in the canoe, we landed, and began our climb over the hills. The first hills were low; were beautifully rounded by water; and every hollow and valley was filled with fine specimens of the rofia palm and of the traveller’s tree. We made our first pause at Mánambonináhitra. This little town is the residence of the Lieutenant-Governor of the district, and as his brass band must live, they take the opportunity afforded by an English visitor’s arrival to do a stroke of business. The whole village turned out to welcome us, and the band played effectively and with energy, “See the conquering hero comes: sound the trumpet, beat the drums.” The incident would be remembered with feelings of satisfaction, both by my colleague and myself, if we had not learned that several other “conquering heroes” have passed through the village since our visit. Still surrounded with the rofia palm, having fronds thirty feet long and beautifully tinted with red, we continued our journey to Ránomafána, with its well-known hot springs, which we reached at sunset. Here the church table being in a dilapidated condition, I amused myself by mending it, and was caught in the act by a deputation, which arrived to offer us a welcome, and which watched with grave interest the progress of the repairs.

Around Ránomafána the country has many beauties. There is a fine amphitheatre of hills, from which here and there rise one or two lofty cones. The streams run deep and strong, over beds of quartz pebbles; the traveller’s tree grows in enormous numbers, and large patches of rich black soil appear amid the general masses of red clay.

West of Ambátoerána, and about ten miles from Ránomafána, we ascended a fine hill of bright red clay, which projects like a vast buttress into this amphitheatre of hills, and furnishes the road by which the next ridge is crossed. On reaching the summit of the pass and looking back over the undulating plain, I asked the bearers what the name of the hill was. With deep interest I heard their reply: “It is Tániakova, the weeping place of the Hovas.” I at once asked, “And where is the sea?” Without hesitation they pointed it out on the horizon, and showed us the houses of Andevoranto.

We were standing on the spot, sacred for ever to the sorrows of the Hova captives of former times, who here first caught sight of the sea, over which they were to voyage as slaves. In the wars of last century, and in the petty local contests which took place in various parts of the country, it was a constant practice to sell the prisoners taken in battle or captured in villages to the Arab merchants, who exported them as slaves. In these calamities, members of the highest families were involved as well as of the lowest. Children and young women were stolen from villages in the darkness of evening, and were never seen by their relatives again. The slaves were sold to the Mauritius, to Calcutta and Bombay, and even to the West Indies. The Arab merchants were the chief delinquents, but there were French and English also in the hateful trade. The suffering caused by it must have been overwhelming. The captives were marched from the interior in gangs, fastened to one another. Hova, or Betsileo, Tánála or Tankay, it mattered nothing to the cruel men whose property they had become. Their hearts must have broken long before the forest was passed. But tradition tells how the deepest sorrow broke forth afresh, as the gangs stood on this red pass, the outer boundary of the land of their people, and for the first time they beheld the “black waters,” over which they were to be carried never to return. It was Radáma who brought the wicked system to an end, when, at the suggestion of Sir Robert Farquhar, the Governor of Mauritius, he made a treaty with the English Government, by which the export trade in slaves was wholly done away. On the top of the pass there stands a pillar inscribed with the king’s name. The efforts of Sir Robert Farquhar, ably seconded by Mr. Hastie, drew from all classes of the people a warm regard towards the English nation, and gave to them an influence which others had never acquired, and which has been increasing to the present day.

Descending the ridge on its western side, we came into the valley of the Mahela River, rich with tropical vegetation. The ferns covered the slope of the hill in thousands, and were plants of the finest kind. The fronds of the harts’ tongues were a yard and a half long. The wild raspberry was common, and the men gathered capfuls of the fruit. The Mahela was thirty yards wide and four feet deep. Crossing it we climbed a lofty ridge of red clay, with a Hova guard at the top; and going down and up once and again at length reached the stopping station of Ampasimbé, where we spent a quiet Sunday.

By this time we had grown accustomed to our work, and had adopted a regular plan for our movements. Our rule was to rise at five o’clock, get an early cup of tea, start off at half-past six, and make one good journey before eleven or twelve in the day. Resting for a couple of hours, our bearers and ourselves secured a good meal; then made another journey between one and five o’clock, and rested for the night. The villages in which we stopped were very dirty, with middens of rotting leaves, with their smoky houses, in which soot is regarded with veneration as a mark of ancestral respectability, with their countless inhabitants, and their general disorder and filth. Twice a-day we had a house assigned for our use; sometimes with the hens and geese sitting, sometimes with the dogs and chickens turned into the street, but anxious constantly to gratify their domestic feelings and return home. The sleeping accommodation was varied. Sometimes the house was clean (for Madagascar); usually it was the opposite; the first and the last of the series were the dirtiest and smokiest of all. Our portable beds were a great comfort, they were so complete and convenient; our enamelled cups and plates proved most useful. But to get up at five A.M. daily, and double up all your property, in order to go on pilgrimage to some new place as dirty as the last, is trying to the feelings, even when it is a serious duty.

Though wearisome, the journey proved at this time a continual treat. The ascent of these hills is over three broad terraces. After leaving Ampasimbé, all Monday and Tuesday we were crossing the numerous ridges of the first terrace, which slopes outward from a mighty wall of rock, conspicuous to the west. These ridges were often high; they followed fast upon one another, and in the ravines between them were lovely bits of scenery clustering round the running streams. At last, beyond Beforona, we reached the foot of the great wall, covered with forest, the top of which towered above our heads. Turning a little north, the road made over the clay hills for a gap in the ridge, and with many a climb and many a deep descent, we found ourselves at length on the high terrace above it, the second of the series, distinguished by its forest. The scenery in this part of the journey was wonderfully beautiful. Now we passed under the long, arched alley, then came into the open glade; now we were hidden in the dense wood, then found ourselves on the edge of deep ravines. Now we crossed a river full of boulders, stepping from stone to stone, or standing in the roaring water; then took a woodland path, buried in ferns, or descended into rich and shady valleys; or, again mounting some rocky summit, enjoyed a noble prospect over hundreds of square miles. Our last day in the ’Alamazáotra forest was very trying, from its numerous and deep mud holes. We had also to cross a frail structure, meant for a bridge, over a broad and deep stream with a fine cascade. But the forest was very fine: we soon reached a clean and pleasant resting-place, Ampásimfótsy, and crossing a high broad ridge, scored by local rice valleys, early in the afternoon, we descended into the broad plain of Ankay, and reached the town of Moramanga. Here we were welcomed by Mr. Wills, one of the English Missionaries, who had been visiting his country churches. The weekly market was in the height of business; meat and clothing were the chief articles we observed exposed for sale. But the place was indescribably dirty. It had probably never been swept from the day when the market was commenced, through thirty intermediate generations, down to the present day.

The plain of Ankay is a place of peculiar interest; there is nothing like it in the island. It is a vast plain of sedimentary clay, enclosed by bordering chains of hills, which run in a direction from north to south. Ankay proper is at least one hundred and eighty miles long and, here, is about twenty miles broad. The chain along its eastern side is not lofty, it has a height of only 365 feet. It is rather like a lip to the plain below than an overhanging wall; it consists largely too of the same material as the plain itself, with gneiss rocks underlying and intermingled with it. The western chain, on the contrary, is a lofty wall of granite and gneiss, 1620 feet high; it overhangs the plain in its entire length, and passes far beyond it. It is the second of the great ridge walls, by which so much of the contour of the island is regulated. It runs the entire length of the island, as far as known, and is covered all the way with wood, which forms the second and upper line of the primeval forest. Vast buttresses of rock project into the plain from its lofty front, and deep ravines and valleys run in behind them, giving to the scenery a rich variety of outline, and of detail.

Ankay should be a level plain. It once was so. But its material is soft and friable, and water speedily washes it away. For countless ages storms, floods, waterspouts and steady rains have made havoc of its surface. It is ploughed and scored into little valleys in all directions; but the scorings all find an outlet, and pass from one to another, till they reach the central drain of all, the valley of the Mangoro River. The bottom of this valley is 325 feet below the level of the plain; and the river flows (like the Jordan) in a little valley within the valley. Naturally, this great draining valley with its river runs, like its enclosing walls, a course from north to south. The Mangoro eventually makes its way through the eastern chain, descends the great hills by a series of rapids and cascades, and falls into the sea near Manahoro. It is interesting to observe that under the western hills, where floods and waters are most abundant, the plain is a hundred feet lower than on its eastern side. We shall see more of this plain hereafter, when we traverse its northern end on the way to the Sihánaka province.

The people who have occupied this plain, apparently without interruption, from the time of its first settlement, are called Bezánozáno. Their name of Tankáys only denotes that they live in Ankay. They are apparently a branch of the Betsimisáraka tribes, who have peopled the coast. They probably came from the lower plains up the valley of the Mangoro, and it is certain that they have spread along Ankay from south to north; the upper portion of the plain being to this day empty. They have been almost completely cut off from their neighbours, and have led an isolated life; till, conquered by the Hovas, and subjected to the demands of the Hova service, large numbers of the men were made bearers of Government goods, and travelled to distant parts of the Hova dominions. They have suffered much from their isolation and are still very uncivilised and ignorant. Their women have a brown complexion, with liquid eyes. They are a very simple and also a hospitable people. They were afraid of the first English Missionary they saw; but when they found he was a friend, they could not do too much for him. At the present time there are several Churches in the valley.

On Thursday morning we left Moramanga and spent the day in reaching Ambódinangávo, a village at the foot of the western chain. In three hours we came to the Mangoro; noticed with interest the depression in which it runs, and crossed it in canoes to the village of Andákana, “canoe-town.” A little to the west of the ferry stands the lofty wooded hill of Ifody. The hill belongs to the western chain, but projects some miles into Ankay, and leaves a long broad valley between that chain and itself. We crossed Ifody, ascending and descending 950 feet; and having rested a while at the village beyond, we pursued our way up the inner valley, along the river Mánambóla. The scene before us in the Angavo valley was truly grand. The valley is almost entirely shut in; the hills on the west and south are very lofty, their vast projecting buttresses are rounded with the most graceful curves, and the brushwood and the forest clothe them with indescribable loveliness. On the south-west stands the massive peak of Angávo, “the lofty,” and the road ascends to the high plains above, over the shoulder of this noble hill. We climbed it early the following day, but we descended and ascended once and again into deep ravines before the solid plain was reached; in one of these ravines, at a most lovely spot, we forded the river Mandráka, with a fine cascade just above the passage. Thence a long climb carried us to the plateau above. The total ascent from the foot of the great chain to this inner edge of the plateau was 1620 feet.

THE FORD OF THE MANDRÁKA

We were now in the province of Imerina; and the dry, chill air of the morning gave ample proof that we had ascended a considerable height above the sea. We paused for a while at the usual stopping station of Ankera-Madinika, where every traveller either sleeps or takes his midday meal. Then passing on we crossed several valleys and stony ridges; till we reached the broad open basin of Manjákandriana, and for the first time beheld a large cluster of villages, with three or four churches. Still west of them we reached the eastern foot of a noble hill, Angávokély, which towers over Imerina and is a conspicuous landmark for many miles; its height is 5925 feet. Here our barometers indicated the highest point of our route; but it was only for a moment on the crest of the ridge which runs northward from the Angávokély hill. We at once descended on the west, and after winding along the edge of the great moor, we reached the mission station of Ambátovóry, and spent some delightful hours with Mr. and Mrs. Peake. This portion of the country possesses great beauties; noble rocks, rich soft woods, green rice fields, and running streams are so blended together, so contrasted with each other as to delight the eye with richest varieties of form and colour, light and shade. The fertile bottoms, watered from a thousand fountains, yield golden harvests to the industry which tills them. But wherever they bend and turn in graceful outline, they are enfolded by long and lofty ridges, studded with enormous boulders; and they rest in the might and the majesty of the everlasting hills.

Beyond Ambátovóry the valleys began to open more widely; the ridges were lower; the population increased rapidly; and not only were villages seen on all sides, but towns of considerable size. Two of these Ambóhimaláza and Ambohitrómby, occupy a conspicuous position and have most important churches. On Saturday morning, we commenced our last journey of twelve miles. We were glad that the end was near. The bearers, as well as ourselves, were exhausted with the hard life we had led; with the long and frequent climb up hill, with the terrible mud-holes, and the bad roads. But the capital was in sight, conspicuous on its lofty hill. Five miles on this side of it two of our friends met us; then three others. Two miles from the city, on the crest of a fine rocky hill, we found the entire mission, ladies as well as gentlemen, with the members of the Friends’ Mission, gathered to do us honour and give us a warm welcome. A group of native ministers joined them; and the theological students met us a little further on. It was a splendid reception; an earnest of the hospitable treatment and the kind aid which we were to experience from them throughout the period of our stay. We finished the journey in their company. We soon climbed the lofty hill, so familiar in pictures of the city; passed near the walls of the well-known palace; crossed the plain of Andohalo; saw some of the churches, so often named in our public letters; and found a cordial welcome in the homes of two of our brethren.

The following list of the principal places we passed on the way up country, with their barometrical height, will show the manner in which the land gradually rises from the sea-coast to the central plateau.

Antanánarivo.

Looking back upon this first experience of the country and people of Madagascar, I was profoundly impressed with the emptiness of the land. And the more I have thought the matter over, and the more I have seen of the island, the more thoroughly has that first impression been confirmed. There were people, indeed, in the capital and around it; there was nothing to gainsay here, or since we had passed into Imerina. But Ankay, how thinly peopled! While from Moramanga eastward, there are almost no villages at all, except the stopping-stations, till within twenty miles of the sea. The Betsimisāraka province between the hills and the sea we saw to be very narrow in itself, and the large villages to be very few. The story of Radáma’s conquest implies the same thing; the Hova contests have been few and easy; and no places were the scene of conflict but those whose names are well known in our own day. All travellers north and south of Tamatave and Andevoránto say the same. Along the east coast as far south as Mánanzára, there are now fourteen towns, each containing one hundred houses or more. The total number of houses in these towns amount to 2,400; which should contain a population of 12,000 people. The little villages dot the country; but they do not go far inland, and their inhabitants are few. This is but natural in a country where a cluster of a hundred houses is called a town. After careful consideration I doubt whether the entire population of the east coast from Diego Bay to Cape St. Mary’s, exceeds 150,000 people. And the majority of these are scattered in handfuls over the country, so that we can scarcely get at them. Our native friends in Tamatave, when pleading with us for an English missionary, showed us by facts and figures, that in the twenty congregations on the coast connecting themselves with the Christians of Imerina, there were altogether only two thousand people, and of these there are eight hundred in Tamatave.

We spent eleven days in the capital before travelling further, and found a multitude of things to interest us. I may not stop to describe them. I cannot dwell upon our first service in the Memorial Church at Ambátonakánga; on the prayer meetings held in the houses of the missionaries; on the numerous visitors, English and native, who called to see us; on our visits to various parts of the city,—the churches, the palace, the market, the places where the martyrs fell; the places where the earliest labours of the mission were carried on; or on our first sight of the schools maintained at the present time. We had often read of these things; it was now most pleasant to see them. I had often endeavoured to picture them to my mind, but I now found misapprehensions to correct, and a multitude of details to fill in. In most things the city came up to my expectations; in certain respects it fell short of them.

One thing was quite unexpected by us both. We found that the city was empty, and that the activity and stir we looked for in the capital of the country had disappeared. Two military expeditions had left the capital in June for the Sakaláva districts, below the hills on the south-west, in order to punish a series of cattle robberies which had been for some time perpetrated by the tribes in that quarter. They were headed by two of the chief officers of the government, the chief Secretary of State and his son; some four thousand five hundred soldiers had accompanied them, drawn from all parts of the country, as also a numerous body of aides-de-camp and personal followers usually resident in the city. Besides sending these expeditions against her enemies, the Queen had gone with a larger body of her people on a friendly visit to the Betsileo Province. She was accompanied by several thousand soldiers, and by a large number of the principal members of the Government, who had taken with them their children and the family servants and slaves. There were at least sixteen thousand people in the camp; some thought that there were more. The result was that the city seemed empty; the churches were empty; half the preachers were drawn off from the congregations in the province; the schoolmasters had left their schools; the best children were absent with their parents. Society was greatly disorganised. Ordinary pursuits were interrupted; artisans, workmen, labourers had disappeared; thousands of bearers were following the camp; and Imérina generally was taking holiday.

In its usual condition Antananarivo is a large place. There is no place like it in the island. Dr. Davidson, who has carefully looked into the matter, thinks that it contains a population of seventy or eighty thousand persons. My experience of Indian cities long since led me to reckon that a compact native town, a mile square, contains about eighty thousand inhabitants. Now the dwellings of Antananarivo, carefully examined, will be found to cover that amount of space, and I think with Dr. Davidson that that is the number of the population. The city is built upon a high and prominent hill, having three elevated points. The hill is nearly two miles long, but it does not stand perfectly alone. Its eastern side is a curved line, but on the west it has two projecting hills, firmly attached by connecting ridges. Between these projections is the plain of Imáhamásina, “the place of consecration,” where at times the sovereigns of Imerina have been crowned. On the northern projection is the great suburb of Isotry, and the Zoma market-place. The northern continuation of the city-hill proper is the suburb of Faravohitra; and between these two, in the valley below, are the plain and village of Análakely. At the point where the two sides of the valley meet, and the suburban hill joins the main hill, is Ambátonakánga. Sloping upwards to the main hill is a rocky road, Ambátovináky, on the side of which is the Norwegian Church, and at the top of which is Imarivolanitra, “the town in the sky.” Passing this, the traveller comes to the open plain of Andohalo, a piece of level ground on the crest of the hill, where the laws are usually promulgated. Farther still, he reaches the highest point of the city, on which, in a most commanding position, and visible to the whole country, stands the rova or palace. At the southern end of the hill is Ambohipotsy, “white town,” so named from the white cliffs with which the suburb terminates. Viewed from the east, the whole side of this lofty hill is seen to be studded with houses on a series of platforms or terraces cut into the hill-side. In the centre and at the south end, they are packed closely together; toward the north, on the slope of Faravohitra they are less numerous and regular. On its west side Ambohipotsy is very crowded, and the hill is not only very steep, but is covered with enormous boulders. On the slope at Andohalo the houses are also closely set; and between these two places are the steep cliffs of Ampamarínana, a hundred and fifty feet high, over which the martyrs were thrown. To me the most regular and picturesque portion of the city is the west face of the Faravohitra hill, which overhangs the valley and plain of Análakely. It is well planted with trees, amongst which the Cape lilacs are numerous. Conspicuous on the crest of the hill is the Memorial Church, while farther south is a line of neat dwelling-houses, belonging to the Friends’ Mission.

The name of the city is said by Mr. Ellis to mean “the thousand towns,” and to indicate the sense of importance attached by patriotic Malagasy to the size and beauty of their capital. But this is a mistake. Native gentlemen explain its meaning thus: When the founder of the city in its present form took possession of the hill, with a view to erect upon it the capital of his new and wider kingdom, he brought from Alasora, his previous residence, a large body of selected soldiers and colonists, whom he settled on the west side of the hill; and he called his capital “the town of the thousand.” This practice of artificially building up cities by a transferred population has been common in the East, and the Malagasy word arívo, “thousand,” is connected with it. Thus the principal town or capital of Imámo is called Arívonimámo. The capital of tha district south of the Ankárat mountains is called Arívo, though known generally by the name of Betafo. The chief town of one of the Ibára tribes is Benarivo. At the outset the town of Antananarivo was of moderate size. But as the kingdom grew, and under Impoinimerina and his son Radáma attained strength and importance, the number of officers increased, their immediate dependants multiplied, the army became more numerous, and all the trades connected with an active population naturally extended with them. Large portions of the hill, however, remained unoccupied; and it is during the last twelve years, with the new life which has been infused into the kingdom, that the open spaces have rapidly been filled. Ten years ago, Faravohitra was a bare and empty suburb; it is now being rapidly covered with houses; and large villages a mile beyond it, like Ankádifótsy and Manjákaráy, have grown populous likewise.

I need not pause here to describe the houses of the Malagasy or their habits and condition generally. We saw little of these things during the few days of our first visit; while they became familiar to us at a later period when the city was once more full, and we spent several months among its people. We now took a general view of things, and especially visited those places and buildings which are peculiarly identified with the religious history and progress of the people. Living in the midst of the English community, it was a great pleasure to make close acquaintance with our missionary brethren, in their homes as well as in their work; to hear of their plans, to join in worship with their congregations, and visit their schools.

Our intercourse with the native brethren also was very pleasant. Many of the principal pastors were absent: but others who remained manifested a sincere interest in our visit, and expressed in warm terms their affection to the Society, from whose early labours in the island they had obtained their first knowledge of Christian truth. Malagasy affection always takes a practical and hospitable form. Both at Tamatave and at the stopping-stations on our way up-country, the churches and the authorities had offered us little presents of fowls, turkeys, eggs, and rice, suitable for travellers on a journey. Here also they did the same, and in token of their union the churches joined together and made their gift substantial. The missionaries were of opinion, from the manner in which our visit was being regarded by our converts, that it would be productive of benefits of many kinds. Before we left the island, that opinion was amply justified. It was plain that great good had been done by it. In a quiet, unostentatious way it was seen that the affection of the Malagasy churches for their English friends “over the sea,” and their confidence in their help, had grown very strong; and that they were resolved to maintain an unwavering attachment to those who, in the dark days had faithfully stood by them.

CHAPTER III.

VISIT TO THE BETSILEO PROVINCE.

The Betsileo Province, its importance and position—The Mission recent—Journey thither—The Ankárat Mountains, their breadth and height—Encamp at the foot—The Vava Vato—Betáfo and Sírabé—The River Mania—Ambositra—Nándíhizana—Ambohinamboárina—Ikála—The Matsiatra River—Fianarantsoa—Visit of the Queen to the Province—Worship in the Camp—Examination of the Schools—The Tanála—Our Visit to Ambohimandroso and Imahazony—The Southern Terrace and hills—The Ibára Tribes—Ambóndrombé—The Iárindrano—Fianarantsoa again—Ifanjakana—Latitudes and Heights—General Conclusions concerning the Betsileo Province: its Population and Resources—Religious condition—New arrangements of the Mission for its Instruction—Return to the Capital.

CHAPTER III.
VISIT TO THE BETSILEO PROVINCE.

South of Imerina lies the Betsileo province, containing a most important section of the Malagasy people. The province is long and narrow; and, like Imerina, it occupies the entire breadth of the upper plateau of the island. It has for fifty years been under the Hova Government; but to English people it remained almost unknown till recent days. After the reopening of the mission in Imerina, difficulties were experienced in the endeavour to visit the Betsileo people. Even Mr. Ellis could not make his way thither. We knew nothing of their towns and rivers, except their names. At length, in 1868, Mr. Toy and Mr. Jukes travelled through the churches. Members of other missions also paid them visits. Then Mr. Richardson was sent from England to commence a separate mission in the province, and settled in its chief town Fianárantsoa. Other missionaries have since joined him; and now our Directors were anxious to learn to what extent the people still required their aid.

As the dry season had yet six weeks to run after our arrival, my colleague and I prepared to employ it in visiting the Betsileo province. And we set out without delay. We carried with us our two tents, eleven feet square, with a small one of nine feet; and found our camp equipage and English stores of even greater service than during our journey from the coast. Many of the bearers who had brought us from Tamatave, offered their services for this longer journey. Mr. Cameron, who has been a member of the mission nearly fifty years, and the Rev. W. E. Cousins, kindly consented to accompany us; and throughout our rough but pleasant tour they proved most kind and agreeable companions, and rendered us great service.

TURTLE-HEAD ROCK—AMBATOMALAZA.

We left the capital on Wednesday, September 10th. Our course was directed in the first instance to the south and west, that we might pass through the Ankárat mountains, and pay a visit to some of the Norwegian Missions in Betáfo and Sírabé. Our road lay across the Ikopa river, and past the “famous rock” of Ambátomaláza. This rock is conspicuous, not only from the capital, but from distant parts of Imerina; it is a portion of a gneiss ridge, and an enormous turtle-head stands out grandly at the top. The river Sisáony flows at its foot on its way to the Ikopa. The valley is full of villages; indeed all this southern corner of Imerina is thickly peopled; and we have a large number of churches and congregations crowded within a small space. Having crossed the beautiful basin of the Andromba river, full of villages and pine-apple fields, we commenced a steady ascent of the long lava fingers of Ankárat and pitched our camp on the second day, under the sheltered side of the lofty hill of Ambohitsampan, seven thousand feet above the sea.

At this height the south-east winds blow hard and cold. But the three tents, firmly pinned, afforded thorough shelter; and when our beds and boxes had been duly arranged, we spent a cosy, comfortable evening. The men all left us (except our servants) to find shelter in scattered houses. The night proved cold, and before sunrise the thermometer had fallen to forty degrees; a thick mist lay on the hills, and there was slight rain.

When the mist had cleared on the following morning, we climbed to the summit of our hill, and had a fine view on every side. The other great peaks of Ankárat lay to the south, still somewhat veiled; on the west was a sea of hills and long ridges; far in the north-east, among the hundred hills of Imerina was the Capital. Careful observation showed that the peak of Ambohitsámpan has a height of eight thousand feet above the sea. The observations were made both by the boiling-water point and by Aneroid barometer. Our camp was more than seven thousand feet above the sea; and the ascent of the peak was eight hundred feet. On other occasions we had good opportunities of examining the extent and character of these noble mountains, and I now briefly state the conclusions to which we came respecting them.

The Ankárat Mountains are the loftiest in Madagascar. They are of volcanic origin; they have been protruded through the gneiss and granite of the great central range of the island, and they lie some fifteen miles west of the watershed of that range. This mountain mass rests on an enormous base. Taking account of the long fingers or tongues of lava which have flowed out from the centre in all directions, it will be seen that it covers a space of six hundred square miles. It appears broad rather than high. From the Imerina plain, four thousand feet above the sea, the lava slopes upward from its junction with the clay, till the ground attains the height of six and seven thousand feet, when we reach the base of the great central peaks. These occupy a space of fifty-four square miles. They are five in number, with minor elevations between. M. Grandidier calls one of them, Ambóhitrakóholáhy, the highest; but here he is mistaken. We ascended two of these peaks, measured the height of a third by theodolite; and eventually Mr. Cameron’s native assistant ascended and measured all five. The heights of the whole are as follows:—

Each of these grand hills presents a striking appearance, Ambóhitsámpan is conical, and has a double head, whence its name; it is conspicuous from the Capital, and seems to be the highest of the group. Ambóhitrakóholáhy is also in two parts, and has a beautiful cone on its east side. Ambóhimirándrana stands in the centre of the group; and Mr. Pillans ascended it without difficulty. Tsi-áfak-áfo faces the west; it is a noble mountain with a lofty peak; and as its precipices slope rapidly on that side, it forms a grand and conspicuous object on a clear day, over a vast reach of country. We fixed its position with great care, and its name often appears in our survey-lists. Tsi-áfa-zavona is the noblest of all the peaks; it slopes up grandly to a lofty point; and looked at from the eastern foot of the range it is a striking object indeed. Vast jagged precipices lie immediately beneath its crown. When the east wind blows it is “rarely free from mists,” whence its name. It is seldom ascended; and the villagers of the plain beneath it were greatly opposed to any effort on our part to climb it. They have a superstitious dread of the anger of some invisible, intangible power ruling over these great hills; and to him they sacrifice fowls on the top of the hills in times of pestilence and peril. We tried to ascend the great peak on two successive days, but were baffled by the thick mists. The whole of the peaks and of the mountain mass are covered with broken lava; the streams of lava flow outward from the centre on every side, and on the south they are twenty-five miles in length. On the east, at the foot of Ankárat, are other centres of volcanic outflow, and the lava hills are of great size. We found many pretty wild flowers at the top of Ambóhitsámpan; and the small aloe, having dark green leaves tipped with crimson, and a bright orange flower, grows in abundance all over these lofty hills.

Striking our little camp, we started to the westward: and after crossing several deep ravines, we reached a broad grassy ridge, one of the lava tongues; along which the bearers carried us at a great pace, so that we speedily reached the pretty valley and town of Menálalóndy.

TSI-AFAK-AFO FROM THE WEST.

The population in these parts is very scanty, and is to a great extent cut off from intercourse with more civilised districts. The villages are few and scattered, and are planted along the bottoms of the valleys, which allow a fair cultivation of rice. Yet they are far more numerous than they were when Mr. Cameron first travelled this way, forty years ago. The people are extremely ignorant, especially of Christian truth; nevertheless every large village has its chapel: the Friends are striving to meet the wants of this border of their district; volunteer teachers render what service they can; and the longing of the people for higher and fuller knowledge of the truth is unmistakeable. Here and there also individuals of marked piety are like “the salt of the earth” among their neighbours.

Journeying on to Manjákàndrían, and thence by the lake of Vinánynóny to Betáfo, we found objects of deepest interest at every step. Shapely valleys and lofty hills, covered with gneiss boulders, were before and around us. Below Anzázamadínika a little river runs through a narrow ravine, and the boulders have so rolled in and filled the ravine that for a quarter of a mile the river disappears under ground. Mounting the opposite bank we were confronted by a fine conical hill, Tsi-áfak-alíka, “that which a dog cannot climb.” West of Manjákàndrían is a lofty hill, Márovítsika, “many ants;” and beyond it another, in an exposed position, Bémásoándro, “having plenty of sun.” To the south of the village is the hill of Bé-vóha, “thoroughly open.” In this part of our journey we were constantly crossing small streams that take their rise in the roots of Ankárat; and it was a great pleasure, six months afterwards, when travelling through Ménabé, to meet them again as large rivers, and to see in the distance the great hills at whose foot we had encamped. The lake of Vinánynóny is formed by one of these streams, flowing strong and clear from under the lava; it is two miles square; and is drained to the west by the Sahomby river, which becomes a large stream and finally joins the Kitsamby.

Beyond Vinánynóny we came into the long, closed alleys of the Vava Vato, a vast collection of serrated ridges of pure felspar granite. We struck them on the north-east side and passed through their eastern valleys. Six months later we mounted their central ridges and stood on the loftiest peak of the whole, the great rock of Iávohaikia. I will speak of them more particularly at that point. From these alleys we came again on to the red clay; and descending rapidly, two thousand feet, into the deep basin of Betáfo, encamped in the grounds of the Norwegian Mission.

I will not dilate here upon the beauties of this noble basin, cut out of the clay deposits by the upheavings of earthquakes and the action of powerful streams; or describe its thousands of rice terraces cut in the hill-sides, from which twenty thousand people, year by year, gather their golden harvest. I will pass over our visit to the hot springs; the garden-walls of black lava in the lower villages; the fine cascade of the Loalambo; the royal tombs of the ancient line of Betáfo kings, and the hill-fortress on the south, from which they commanded the country. Nor will I pause to describe the old craters which we found so abundant; the great lava-field in their midst; and the lime-pits and deposits of Sirabé. All these we saw to greater advantage at a later time and learned to understand more fully. Many of the Norwegian brethren were absent also from their spheres of labour, through sickness or on duty; but we visited them again and heard more completely about their work. Only one did we see on our present journey, Mr. Rosaas; and from him and his good wife at Sirabé we received the heartiest welcome.

From Sirabé to Ambositra we kept the western road, down the valley of the Mánandóna and found throughout it objects of interest, of which (like most others above referred to) books contain no notice. West of the Mánandóna is a noble granite mass, the hills of Ibéty. The Mánandóna valley is a fine rice plain; and its river has but a narrow outlet through the granite range. When a heavy flood comes suddenly down from the long valleys of Ankárat, the valley is submerged; it “gets a bath,” as the name implies, until the waters can pass off through the ravine to the Mania. Beyond the point where the river goes west, the valley is continued southward between high and precipitous hills. Beyond Ambohimanjáka, again, where we stayed, the valley is covered with huge boulders of graphite granite; and to the south of Iláka and its broad rice basin, the ravines are numerous and deep. We never had in Madagascar a journey so difficult or distressing, as the travel of that long Saturday morning, when we were carried over the narrow paths, up and down the steep ravines which immediately open upon the Mania. But we forgot our troubles and our hunger, when we reached the open valley of the Mania, and saw the waters tumbling in creamy foam over the huge boulders with which for three hundred yards the stream is barred. These boulders form a natural bridge; and we crossed the river, jumping short distances from one to another, while the river ran boiling and foaming between and underneath them. All around us were lofty cones, mountain masses, rugged precipices. The sight was truly grand, and we lingered over it long.

The men had eaten nothing all day; but we found some quiet villages higher up the river and the rain compelled us to remain. We had narrow quarters in a real Betsileo house, surrounded by the live stock of the proprietor. The family goose was “sitting;” the fowls were active and hungry; the mice ran busily about us; the ducks quacked at intervals all night; and the cocks crowed early in the morning. I slept soundly through it all, as did Mr. Cameron in his little tent outside. Mr. Pillans however was not so happy. We left early the next day; and after a rapid run of two hours down a long slope, we arrived in good time for service at the town of Ambositra. Here we found our colleague Mr. Cousins, who had come from the Capital by the direct road, and had brought us English letters; and here we spent two delightful days.

We had now reached the Betsileo Province. Ambositra is the chief town of its northern division, and is 4320 feet above the sea. It stands on a low hill, in the centre of a wide, well-watered basin: it contains over two hundred houses; and numerous villages, and small clumps of houses termed “válas,” are scattered over the basin, among the fertile fields. The basin is bounded by lofty hills on the east and west; other valleys are found behind these hills, though the population which they contain is thinner. On the east, about fifteen miles away, is the town of Mády, on the Mády river; it also has several villages in its neighbourhood. To an English eye, and to the eye of a missionary who knows anything of India or China, the country appears thinly peopled. Some of the first missionaries who came and looked at this district, doubted whether it was of sufficient importance to constitute it a principal station of the mission. My colleague and I had little hesitation on the subject at our first visit. Upon our return, after traversing the entire province, we felt no doubt whatever. On the contrary, in relation to the country generally we deem Ambositra a place of great importance. Within the district are some five thousand “hetra” or holdings, representing as many families, and about thirty thousand people. The town contains a thousand people; and twenty thousand lie within a half-day’s journey from it. Eight congregations are connected with the central church, and five others with the church at Mády. Ambositra lies on the high road from the Capital: its broad, rich valley, full of people, is a refreshing resting-place for those who have traversed the granite moors and valleys, north and west; the forest and its rough ridges are beyond Mády to the east, with a road into the Tánála district; and on the south, scarcely a village is seen for a whole day, among the rocky lines of hill which cross the country.

We were glad to see congregations of more than three hundred people in the chapel, during both services on the Sunday of our arrival; although a large number of the residents were at Fianáran with the Queen. We were heartily thanked for our visit. And a formal deputation of the chief members and elders of the church, on the following day, warmly pressed a request on us that we should secure for them the appointment of an English missionary. Happily we were all of one mind on the subject. At a later stage of our visit, Mr. Brockway volunteered to remove to the station; and Mrs. Brockway and he have long since settled at Ambositra, with excellent prospects of usefulness.

Having spent a quiet Monday in surveying the basin of Ambositra and given our men a holiday, we proceeded south the following day to the chief town of the second division of the province, the town of Zoma-Nándihízana. We passed on the road several isolated valleys, empty of inhabitants; and rested at midday under the noble rocks of a ridge 5680 feet high, which crossed the country, called Angávo or “the heights.” We next entered a strip of the “primeval forest,” which here projects into the open country; and then suddenly descended twelve hundred feet, down the valley, to our resting-place. The whole Betsileo country is celebrated for its rice terraces. They are cut on the hill-side wherever a spring pours its water from the rock. But amongst all the results of industry and ingenuity which we saw in the province, we admired none so much as the hundreds of green terraces that were cut on the face of this amphitheatre in the hills above Nandihizana. Several streams rise in the neighbouring hills and forest; and they are made to do ample service before they escape into the rocky ravine at the bottom of the basin, and find their way into the Sákaláva plains.

The next part of our journey lay along the crest of one of the clay ridges; having deep valleys on the east and west, with parallel ridges and valleys, three or four in number, on each side. Far away on the east were three towering hills in the forest, overhanging the great wall above the valley of the Tanála. From, this lofty ridge, 4900 feet above the sea, we had a fine view of the country to a great distance on each side. It was very regular in its lines of hills; and the valleys between were green and fair: but the wild south-easter blew hard and cold, and we did not wonder that when the forest is once cut down, it is almost impossible to replace it. At noon we rested at a small village a mile from Ikiangára, near which are several remarkable tombs; and an ancient fortress on an isolated hill. The fort was defended by six or seven fosses, cut like rings deep into the slope of the hill; and must have been very difficult of approach. These fosses abound in all parts of the country. Their sides are perpendicular: they are from ten to twenty feet broad, and about sixteen feet deep. They are to be crossed generally at only one point, where the clay has been left solid; and here will be found the city gate. Old Ambositra, now deserted, to the south of the present town, is a good specimen of a fortified town. Except for the guarding of the cattle, these deep ditches are in these peaceful days a great inconvenience to every one. They are often planted with plantain and other tropical trees, which benefit by their warm shelter. After a short day’s run we reached the town of Ambóhinamboárina.

This town has a larger population than Nándihízana: but it is by no means a pleasant place. Dirty and full of pigs it stands on the slope of a hill, under a high ridge; it has deep fosses on the land side, and on other three sides it is enclosed by the Fanindróna river, recently strengthened by the waters of the Isáhatóny. The rice valleys are numerous in the neighbourhood: and there are some thirty small villages scattered about it. A cleaner and more open place of residence, with useful labours, would be found in the neighbouring valley of Ikála. This basin is two miles square, level and full of villages, of which the largest, Maharivo, has a chapel. On the west side of the basin are two enormous promontories of gneiss rock, jutting from a mountain mass much higher than themselves, while great boulders lie at their feet.

In this part of the province the hills and valleys are truly beautiful. As we passed on we had the rich valley of Ianjánana on our left with the river Mango; and the town itself on a towering height above us. The river Matsíatra, holding so important a place in the geography and social rule of the province, was meeting us in front; then it turned westward, where the long ridges of Ifánjakána make a lofty background to the rural picture. We crossed a fine open plain in the centre, on the east of the river, and passing the site of the Queen’s camp and the Market of the locality, settled for the night in the damp chapel of Ivohitromby.

On Friday the bearers were all excitement. We were to arrive at Fianárantsoa, the capital of the province, where the Queen was now encamped and where they would meet with hosts of friends. They therefore donned their best and our servants had the breakfast cooked long before we were ready to partake of it. Immediately on starting we crossed the Matsíatra on a wooden bridge, resting on twenty-six stone piers, built in the rocky, shallow bed. Noble hills were about us all the way. A grand ridge, with the Matsíatra at its foot, went off to the south south-east. Under the lofty mass of Avománitra two level valleys were stretched out, containing no less than eighty hamlets, with several chapels, chief of which was the village of Natáo. Beyond this point we met the Mánuláfaka river, coming through from the west; and then climbing a lofty ascent, along which a broad road had been newly cut, we suddenly came in sight of the camp, with a long valley at our feet, dotted with the green rings of the Betsileo válás; and beyond them all the town of Fianárantsoa, crowning its solitary hill and standing forth in calm dignity like a veritable Queen. That was no common sight in this poorly peopled land.

FIANÁRANTSOA.

We arrived at noon; met a warm welcome from all the members of the mission; and were hospitably received into their homes. We were truly fatigued with our long journey over rough roads and looked forward with pleasure to a few days’ rest.

Fianaran-tsoa occupies a commanding position. It is built upon a hill, detached from the range to which it belongs; and the houses are erected in lines upon the hill-side, but do not cover it completely; they form three special groups upon the hill. The róva or Government stockade, with the lofty Government house, is on the summit of the hill, 4200 feet above the sea, while the market occupies a broad and open space at the bottom. The town is in some respects an imitation of Antanánarivo; and it has a lake and island, with a garden and summer house in the centre, resembling (in a small degree) the lake on the west side of the Capital. The town is larger than any other in the upper provinces of Madagascar, except the Capital; it has over a thousand houses, and from five to six thousand people. A large proportion of the inhabitants are Hovas from Imerina, being the officers and soldiers of the garrison. But there are many Betsileo; some of the chief civil officers are Betsileo, men of wealth and standing in the community, with numerous dependents around them. Below the houses are planted thick hedges of the prickly pear, which are, next to the deep ditches, the great resource of Malagasy engineers, in the fortifying of their towns. These hedges were probably a terror to their bare-legged and bare-footed enemies in the days of the shield and spear. At present the traditions and conservative habits of the people maintain them, at great inconvenience even to their well-booted friends. At the foot of the hill there are four valleys, running off north, north-west, and south. They are bright and green in the rice season with a multitude of fields; every little knoll and peninsula is occupied with Betsileo hamlets and their green rings; and amongst them all the Ranofotsy river winds like a silver thread.

The town and its people were not in their normal condition during our visit; and whether in relation to their ordinary life or to the religious state of the three churches, we were unable to see for ourselves what they generally are and do. The visit of the Queen and her court had disarranged all their ordinary concerns; and that with good reason; for it was a great event in their history; and it was being carried out in a spirit which would render the visit a blessing to the Betsileo people for many days to come. Radáma the first had entered the province with his armies fifty years ago to extend his conquests and consolidate them. At an earlier date his English drill-sergeant had covered himself with infamy by the severity of his treatment of the Betsileo people, and of the Antanósis beyond them. But though the Betsileos had remained subject, even Radáma could not master the rock-fortress of Ikongo. For more than forty years the Betsileos had had a hard time under Hova rule. They had been fleeced by excessive exactions and they had been left in complete ignorance by their task-masters. With Christianity came justice, light, and peace. The Hova Christians, to their honour be it said, began to gather the Betsileo around them for worship; they became ashamed of their hard dealings, and their rule grew much more gentle. The presence and instruction of English Missionaries had greatly strengthened these improvements; many churches had been established; hundreds of children were being taught in the schools; the Betsileo were as welcome to these services as the Hovas. And now the Queen had come to see her people; to call them around her; to make acquaintance with them personally, to meet them in their tribes; and to speak to them with authority on questions in which their welfare was deeply concerned. At the time of our visit this intercourse of the Queen, the Prime Minister, and the chief officers, with the people was already producing good fruit. The people were loud in praise of the Queen’s friendliness, of her kind speeches, her royal gifts. She had paid special attention to the governor of the Tanala, the princess Hiovana, a great favourite with every one. And the camp and its kabárys were the resort of thousands of visitors every day. Sublunary considerations had entered no doubt into the question of the visit. The herds of fat cattle offered as presents meant something; and the officers and their dependents lived on Betsileo rice. Nevertheless such things both the rich and the poor of the province could for once afford to pay; and under the security of property prevailing as the result of good government and of Christian feeling, material products like these will speedily be multiplied to them a hundred-fold.

The Queen’s camp was pitched on a picturesque knoll, in the open valley on the north side of Fianáran. Towards the east was the royal court-yard, surrounded by a wooden palisade; in the centre of which was pitched the scarlet tent, intended for the Sovereign’s personal use; three other tents were behind it; in the corner was the cooking tent, a black affair about which there was no sham; and on the west was a wooden platform, on which the Queen sat with the officers of government around her in the public assemblies that were held. The scarlet umbrella held over her head, always denoted to the people, even at a distance, that their Sovereign had appeared in public. The tents of the officers and troops, and the clusters of tents belonging to the Betsileo tribes, which had marched in from a distance, were arranged in excellent order. Many of the officers had brought their families with them; and both the camp and the houses in the town were crowded with people.

Our arrival was duly notified to the Prime Minister and the Queen; and on Saturday, at a special private audience, we paid our respects, and were graciously received. Numerous presents of turkeys, geese, fowls, beef, and eggs, began to flow in in a stream; and many of the leading Christian people, whose names are known in England, came to pay us a visit. One lively friend of ours very kindly sent her turkeys cooked; and as to the rest my kind hostess expressed it as her opinion that she would require an extra man to guard and feed the extensive stock of poultry of which Mr. Cameron and I had suddenly become possessors. The Churches also failed not to notice our arrival and sent us presents of the same kind.

On Sunday we had the pleasure of worshipping with the Queen in the camp. From the royal platform the sight of the vast congregation was very striking. There were eight thousand persons present, of whom the inner and larger portion were seated on the ground. Beneath the platform, and just in front of the Queen, were several rows of women who formed the choir. Beyond them in the centre were the women and ladies of the general congregation. The men were on the right. And a broad circle of men behind both closed them all in. The dress of all was exceedingly neat and clean. The men wore the large straw hat, usual to the Hovas, with its black velvet band. The lambas both of men and women were to a large extent white; but many were striped with black; many were blue, others of a check pattern; and a great number were stamped with pink flowers. Exposed to the sun, the men kept their hats on, and when he shone forth brightly, an army of umbrellas was put up, dark and light blue, brown and white, to temper the heated rays. Over all was a sky of pale blue, flecked with clouds driven rapidly by the strong south-east winds. The platform was crowded with the ladies and officers of the Court, conspicuous amongst whom, and seated close to the Queen, was Hióvana, the governor of the Tanála tribes. Most were on the ground; the few chairs had been brought by their occupants and were of various shapes and sizes. The Queen was simply dressed in a white lamba, and had a large Bible on her knee; the scarlet umbrella was held above her head.

The service was after the Congregational and Presbyterian order, and was conducted by the native ministers, with as much propriety as such services are among the oldest Churches in England. The service was opened by an Anthem, in which the ninety-first Psalm was sung through, the band accompanying in a most appropriate manner. The Scriptures were then read and prayer offered. Again chapter iii. of Lamentations was sung very sweetly; and the first sermon followed from the text: “For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” The favourite hymn of the Malagasy, No. 46, was next given out, and was sung by the entire congregation with great spirit: the Scriptures were again read and prayer offered. There was another hymn from the Pilgrim’s Progress, a favourite also; and then Andriambélo preached from the text: “How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?” The usual dismissal hymn was sung and the blessing pronounced; and the vast congregation dispersed. The general comment on the sermons was, “Rainitávy’s sermon was the more clever; but Andriambélo respect and love most; and we listen to what he says.” I never attended a more interesting native service at any mission I have visited.

During the week we had the opportunity of seeing one or more of the public entertainments which occupied the intervals of serious business with the Queen and her people. In these the separate tribes took part, some on one day, some on another. Tribal dances, parades, the special music of certain localities, were exhibited and played. To me one of the most interesting was an exhibition of mimic war with the old simple weapons of the spear and hide-shield. The way in which the scout used his eyes, searching every thing for the expected enemy, and in which he managed to cover every part of his body by his small round shield, was very striking. In all these exhibitions, everything was graceful and dignified; nothing was outré.

In these public gatherings we had a good opportunity of seeing how Hova and Betsileo ladies dress their hair. The hair of all native women is black; in those of pure Hova blood it is smooth, but in those who have more or less African taint, the hair is crimped and curled naturally. In both cases, individuals differ in the fulness and length of their hair. In some it is very rich and glossy and black, an “ornament” indeed. The hair of a Hova lady is divided into twenty or twenty-four sections; in each of these the hair is again divided into a number of tails which are plaited together, and the plait is tied up into a small bow; when the dressing is complete, there are some twenty-four of these bows on the head. The number varies with the taste of the wearer: most of the ladies I saw had from sixteen to twenty-four. The Betsileo hair is done up in several styles; in plaits: in round plaited curls; and the like. All these methods take up much time; and are renewed at intervals too long for cleanliness and comfort. Many Hova ladies therefore are adopting the simpler system prevalent among English women, and dress their hair daily.

On Wednesday, October 1st, there was a public Examination of the Betsileo schools, in the presence of the Queen and Prime Minister. Two thousand scholars assembled in the inside of the Palace Court. After singing the national hymn, they went through a variety of exercises to exhibit their attainments in reading, knowledge of Scripture, mental arithmetic, and the like. The questions were put chiefly by Mr. G. Shaw, the able Superintendent of the Normal School and of Education generally in the central Betsileo; but the Prime Minister also joined in the Examination, showed an intelligent appreciation of the progress made, and gave new proof of the deep interest which the Queen and he have long taken in the education of the people.

His Excellency himself delivered the prizes. In addition to the rewards assigned by the mission, the Queen presented every holder of a prize with a new hymn-book and Testament. The Prime Minister also (who had loaded his pockets with money) gave them dollars, half-dollars, and broken money, according to merit: and finally the Queen presented every scholar before her with a new dress. Nearly two thousand were given away, which it took his Excellency two hours to place in the scholars’ hands. But the gift produced a deep impression, and showed the people that their Sovereign was really anxious that they should learn. Before them all, the Queen heartily thanked Mr. Shaw and the members of the mission, for what they had done for the instruction of her Betsileo people.

The following day, a public kabáry was summoned, attended with the usual ceremonies, that the Queen might specially address her people on this subject of education. The soldiers of the line were brought up in force to keep the ground. The three regiments of guards immediately surrounded the platform. One of these regiments is dressed in red knickerbockers: another has trousers, striped pink and white: the third, consisting of young officers, has a uniform of rifle green and is armed with the Snider rifle. The Queen wore a dress of light green watered silk: above it was her scarlet velvet mantle; and she wore a large gold coronet. Her chair was of scarlet and gold; and her footstool was one that had been worked by one of Mrs. Shaw’s girls, and had been presented to her on the previous day. The assembly was very large; there must have been fifteen thousand people present.

As soon as the Queen appeared the assembly rose; and when she stood in her place, a general salute was presented; the Prime Minister also was saluted as Commander-in-Chief of the army; and the business of the day was proceeded with. A royal speech in Madagascar takes a peculiar form, derived doubtless from long tradition; it contains many antique phrases and modes of address; and its general style of appeal to the people, points to the days when the entire tribe was taken into consultation by the chiefs and rulers, and a general vote settled the question in hand. After expressing in a clear and distinct voice, her pleasure in meeting her people once more, the Queen uttered several sentences, usual to these assemblies, in which she dwelt upon the close and affectionate relations subsisting between them and herself. “You are a father and mother to me: having you, I have all.... And if you confide in me, you have a father and a mother in me. Is it not so, O ye under heaven?” To which with a deep voice, the people reply, “It is so.” Passing at length to the subject specially before her, the Queen said: “My days in the south are now few; for I am about to go up to Imerina; therefore I will say a word about the schools. And I say to you all here in Betsileo, whether north of the Matsiatra or south of the Matsiatra, cause your children to attend the school. My desire is that, whether high or low, whether sons of the nobles, or sons of the judges, or sons of the officers, (here she used the Betsileo term, Andevohova) or sons of the centurions, let all your sons and let your daughters attend the schools and become lovers of wisdom.” The Prime Minister then in the Queen’s name, addressed the assembly on the subject of usury, a great evil among poor natives, and only too common in stages of society like that in Madagascar; and said: “Thus saith the Queen; all that usury exacted by the Hovas from the Betsileo is remitted; and only the original debt shall remain.”

After a general salute, the tribes came forward in succession and replied to the Queen, thanking her for her words and her affection: and expressing their approval of her sentiments. The tribes addressed her through their chief men, who on such occasions have a good opportunity of displaying their oratorical power. The first who now came forward was the Andrían or Prince of the Betsileo people, the head of the Isandra family, which ruled the country before its surrender to Radáma. His sister and he are Christians and most interesting people. The best speech of the day was made by the judge of Fianárantsoa, speaking for the people of that town and district. The old gentleman is very stout and very witty. He stalked up and down in the open space before the Queen, flourishing his long stick; and with all sorts of compliments to her rule, expressed his agreement with her views: he added also; “Trust your Betsileo people: have no fear of your Betsileo people: they have begun to read the New Testament: and the people who read the New Testament are an obedient, orderly people.” But the old gentleman had worked himself into a great heat; and at each return up the line of his companions he drank copiously from the water-gourd, which was held and replenished by one of his faithful henchmen: while at each pause of his earnest address the people responded; Izány hoy izy. “Hear, hear.” “He says it.” Other matters then occupied attention. A new governor was appointed to Fianáran; the governor of Ambohimandroso was confirmed in his position; and questions of jurisdiction were arranged. After which the Queen retired and the Assembly dispersed, the kabáry having lasted three hours.

I need not dwell further on our proceedings in Fianáran, or our pleasant interviews with officers of the government, and others prominent in the Christian life of the Capital, as well as of the Betsileo province; or our visits to the Churches; and our hospitable reception by the governors old and new. I will only add a word respecting an important interview we held with the governor of the Tanála people, the princess Hióvana and her family. The Tanala district lies about twenty miles to the east of the central line of the Betsileo provinces. As its name indicates it is the “land of forests.” It is in fact a continuation of the first terrace under the hills, viz. of the plain of Ankay, which we had crossed at Moramánga and Ifódy. The plain is ploughed deep in all directions and contains a multitude of low hills. On one of these is built the town of Ambohimanga, the capital of the district. It contains two hundred houses and a population of 1200 persons. Some of the houses are large and convenient: many are frail and poor. There are numerous villages scattered up and down the district, which is well watered; and the Tanála people may probably amount to twenty thousand in number. The river Mangóro flows along the Ankay plain from the north almost into the Tanála country; and then turns eastward, breaks through the hills in rough rapids and falls into the sea. The west boundary of the Tanála is a noble wall of rock running up and down the country from north to south: and its buttresses are formed here and there of hills that are truly massive and grand. The forest which covers them is the same that we crossed at Angavo; the inner line, which separates the Central provinces in their entire length from the districts nearer the coast. In this its lower portion it is very wide, and still contains magnificent trees.

The Tanála people are reckoned with the Betsileo: but I doubt whether they are of Betsileo blood. They seem rather to be a portion of the Bezánozáno, who people Ankay; and these again are part of the Betsimisáraka tribes. Their country is extremely unhealthy. Placed between the two lines of forest, and their decaying vegetation, it suffers greatly, for eight months of the year, from fever. And none can reside there permanently, who have not become víta-tázo, “fever-proof.” This constitutes the religious difficulty. Gladly would the Mission place one of its English families there to take charge of the Tanála people, were it not for the unusual risks which they would be called to run. We talked the matter over with Hióvana and her brother in Fianáran. She impressed us as being a truly noble lady. She is an eloquent speaker in public; and her addresses at the kabarys are listened to with delight by the assembled multitudes. But she can speak with peculiar beauty of voice and tone in private: and the shrewd and touching pleas with which she and her brother urged that we should appoint an English missionary to their people, were presented with earnestness and power. They have always given a warm welcome to those missionaries who have paid them a visit: and any one who would spend some months of the year with them would do the Tanála people great service. They ought at least to command the services of one of the ablest native ministers, whom the Mission can supply.

For several years I had taken a deep interest in the southern part of the Betsileo province and in the town of Ambóhimandróso; to whose people the Society had long desired to send a missionary: we now prepared to visit it. On Friday, October 3d, the whole party from the Capital, accompanied by Mr. Brockway, left Fianáran. The greater part of our road lay along a fine valley, narrow and bordered by peculiarly noble hills. The parallel ridges of the Betsileo Country run generally from north-north-west to south-south-east. This valley ran for twenty miles a little west of south. The ridges therefore all crossed it; but some mighty force had broken them through at this point, had swept away their rocky remains: and left great precipices, buttresses and promontories overhanging the narrow cleft along which we journeyed. Each headland has its distinctive name. Nothing but photography can duly show the grandeur of these rocks; and only a map on a large scale can rightly delineate the country. The highest mountain in the Betsileo, a grand peak, named Ambohitramanjáka, “king’s town,” we left up a narrow valley on the west of our road. All the way we had on one side or the other, the drain of the valley, the river Ranofotsy. We camped in the valley at night, and had the hills on the east of us all on fire.

Next day we came early to the end of the valley, which is a cul de sac: and saw in it and in the hills to the east the sources of the Ranofotsy. To the west of the terminating hill is a most noble boulder standing alone on the mountain side, called Vato-ávo, “high rock.” Mr. Cameron and I climbed it and found that we had unwittingly secured a most important station for the survey of the country. Both Fianáran and Ambohimandroso were visible: it is the only point in the line of route from which both can be seen at once. We saw at our feet on the south the great rice basin of Ambohimandroso, studded with hamlets perched on the red clay hills. East and west were enormous gneiss mountains: while far to the south was the lofty granite ridge of Kipaséha, its sharp saw-like crest standing clear against the sky. Near to us was the Betsileo village of Ivátoavo, through which we were to pass, and in which the houses are built in and amongst a mass of gigantic boulders, with a thick cactus hedge as their protection. As we passed, the women all came out to look at us. We also looked at them; for their hair was fastened up into a number of flat buttons, which looked like a supply of black penny-pieces hanging about their ears. We reached our destination at four o’clock.

Ambohimandroso is an important town. It is situated on a round clay hill: the Hova fort and governor’s house being as usual on the crest, 3260 feet above the sea. The houses are three hundred in number; and the total population must be fifteen hundred. Most of the houses, according to the usual Betsileo fashion, are built of wood. The posts are strong and square, the walls are of thick boards fixed upright: and the roof, as in Imerina, has a high pitch. It is formed of strong timbers and is thatched with leaves or reeds. The windows of Betsileo houses are small: the door also is small and the door-sill is high above the ground: a post therefore is provided for the paterfamilias and his belongings, on which each carefully stands before he doubles himself up and makes his way through the opening. It is worth noting that in Malagasy the same word is used for door and window; both being constructed in the same fashion and in old houses differing little from one another. The houses of the garrison, of the governor and his officers, follow the fashion of Imerina; they have large doors; are strongly made; and their sides are neatly panneled. But as elsewhere they lack finish; and but little provision is made for privacy. Not a single house we saw had a glass window in it, to provide light, when rain and wind compel the owner to close his wooden shutters. The newest houses outside the fort are being made of clay. The town has on the south other lofty hills: but as in Ankay and Menabe, the sandy parts of these hills have worked into deep hollows which at a distance look like scars and sores upon the hill-side.

On the north, east and west the basin of Ambohimandroso is more level; the rice fields are numerous, and the little hamlets with their rings of verdure dot the country everywhere. The basin is watered by a single stream, flowing from the eastern hills. Its supply is not overabundant. Hence the curious name given to the place, Tsi-énim-paréhy, “not enough for the rice cultivation.” A larger supply of water would doubtless produce far greater crops in both portions of the district. Beyond a low ridge to the east is a second open valley with numerous arms, rich also in villages and rice grounds: several of these villages have chapels: and it is the comparative abundance of population, which renders this town so eligible as the residence of an English Missionary. The Chapel of Ambohimandroso occupies an excellent site and is of large size, sixty feet by thirty. But it needs a great deal of improvement to make it, what it ought to be, the model chapel of the district; and it will be well worth the while of the Mission to assist the congregation in giving to it that position.

We spent a pleasant Sabbath with the people: and though the governor of the town, the native pastor and his excellent wife, and many other principal members of the church were absent with the Queen, we had several serious consultations with those still here, on the provision they would make for the comfort of the missionary, who was now on his way from England. How far would they co-operate with him in securing for their children a more thorough Christian education than they have ever enjoyed? On the whole they responded to our views; and we believe that the Station can be made as great a position of usefulness as any in the Betsileo Country.

We spent three days in Ambohimandroso, gathering information on many points of value. We were encamped in the Chapel, and two young officers of the garrison showed us great attention in securing our comfort and making our habitation less airy. The butchers of the town were not so complaisant. And when our cook enquired after some beef for us, as a change from the constant supply of poultry, they answered that there was a good quantity of “old beef” still unsold; and they declined to kill until that had been expended. It mattered little. Mr. Cousins was an admirable caterer; and though our Irish butter somewhat failed us, yet other English stores, with good turkeys, chickens, bread made by English ladies, sweet potatoes, plantain fritters and other trifles, provided sufficient sustenance even for hungry Englishmen in the keen, hard air. During Monday we arranged for the preparation of a temporary house for a missionary: and then made a careful survey of the town and neighbourhood; we connected our observations completely with those made by Mr. Cameron at Fianárantsoa, and took sketches of the ground. Mr. Pillans went off early with a select band of bearers to climb the peak of Iody, ten miles to the south-west, and take observations of the granite ridge, which bounded the horizon beyond.

During the day Mr. Cousins made special enquiry concerning the Ibára tribes, among whom the Mission will be glad in due time to preach the gospel; since almost none of them have heard it. He found with much satisfaction that they are akin to the Betsileo and in many respects resemble them. Their language is substantially the same: here and there he caught a new word, or an older form of idiom. But he judged that as the language of the Tanála and the Betsileo differs but moderately from the Hova dialect, so the Ibára differs but little from the Betsileo. They build too the same kind of houses: on the hill tops they erect their forts, while in the open valleys they form válas or hamlets with the green fence, and plant gardens around them. They also have large herds of cattle. But as the Betsileo differ from the Hovas in the mode of dressing the hair (though closely akin to them), so do the Ibára differ from the Betsileo. While the latter tie up the hair in penny-pieces, the Ibára form a topknot on the crown of the head, profusely plaistered with grease. Two Ibára men turned up in the town during the day and came to visit us. We found that the tribe lives west and south-west of this place. For a day and half (thirty miles) there are still Betsileo villages, even below the foot of the hills and forest. Then for four days Ibára occupy the country; and beyond them are Sákalávas. M. Grandidier who approached these tribes from the west coast indicates in his maps the same thing.

The chief town of the Ibára in this direction is Benarivo: and they hold considerable intercourse with the Hovas and Betsileo. They look on the present governor of Ambohimandroso as a friend; and through him they only recently sent a friendly message to the Queen at Fianáran, with a small brass gun. There is hope that the gospel will soon find an entrance among them. It happens, in God’s good providence, that the wife of the pastor at Ambohimandroso is herself an Ibára, the daughter of the chief ruling in Benarivo. When young she was taken captive in one of the Hova wars and went to the Capital a slave. There she married. Her husband and she bought their freedom and after a time leaving the Capital, they came south and settled in the Betsileo. Making enquiries, they found that her father and many relatives were still living in Benarivo. She was warmly welcomed home again, with her husband: and from Ambohimandroso, where he holds his appointment, they occasionally visit her friends. Both husband and wife are good Christian people: and it is hoped that through them, an entrance for light and truth and grace may be secured among the Ibára tribes. We can hope this the more, that though the rule of the Hovas in the past has often been hard, selfish and grasping, a great improvement has taken place among them. They are far more merciful, gentle and just toward other tribes in modern days, than they were: and they are far more willing to help in raising them. Were all the local officers (notwithstanding the temptations of their poverty), to be as considerate and just as the Queen, the Prime Minister and a large number of the officers immediately around them, the whole system of Malagasy government would be raised, and a moral conquest of the whole island would be a mere question of time.

A short day’s journey to the south of Ambohimandroso brought us by several important villages, to Imahazony, one of our principal out-stations. In a pool below the hill on which it stands, I was delighted to find a large cluster of blue water-lilies. Imahazony is a large town, containing two hundred houses. It is a busy place, and has many rice fields and several villages in the valleys around it. There is a great deal of sedimentary clay in this south part of the Betsileo, and towards the east the high hills give rise to many small streams of water. We had much pleasant talk with the elders of the congregation about their religious wants. It was plain that they were not far advanced: and that the whole district stands greatly in need of good schools and systematic instruction.

We had now reached the south border of the Betsileo country. Indeed we might say that we were close to three boundaries which enclose its southern end. And when in the afternoon, my colleague and I climbed the ridge of Kinanga, which overhangs the town, we had these chains of hills prominent and near. On the west and south-west was the granite ridge of Kipaseha, towering over the country. Within it were two lower groups of gneiss hills, with the forest close by, bounding the Ambohimandroso valley. To the east was the lofty mountain of Ambóndrombé, covered with dense wood. Directly south was a line of hills crossing the country from the one set of ridges to the other and shutting us completely in. Beyond the town to the south we noted several villages, and ten miles away, upon a spur of these hills, with the green forest just beyond, was the village of Angalampona, the last village peopled by the Betsileo in that direction. This was the boundary of the Hova dominion; and of the sphere which the Mission has yet occupied. Imahazony is on the line of Lat. 22° S.

It must not be supposed that on the other side of the southern forest there is no population. Population does not cease, but it changes its character. What change there may be in the ground no one could clearly describe. One thing however we had ourselves observed with deep interest. The fall in the ground of fourteen hundred feet, immediately south of Ivato-avo, as well as the profusion of red clay outside the gneiss hills, indicated that in the basin of Ambohimandroso we had descended on to the first terrace toward the south. We were no longer on the high level of the Imerina and Betsileo plateau. It is exceedingly probable that some few miles beyond another and lower terrace is reached, as in the north of the island. From the top of Iody Mr. Pillans observed that the country seemed to be falling and to be more open: and the natives were unanimous in declaring that in the south the country was more level and more easy to travel than the Betsileo. As on the eastern and western slopes, so towards the south also, the ground doubtless falls in broad, well-watered terraces, till it reaches the great, level plains observed near the extreme end of the island. It is hoped that in due time some members of the Mission may solve these questions by a personal examination of the district.

Whatever it may be with the geography of the country, one thing we know, that both in and beyond the south forest, the country is occupied by Ibára tribes, and that their villages are numerous. Their capital is said to be Ivóhibé, a day and a half to the southward and built on a big hill. The name of the chief is Rebáhy. His people and he did not burn their idols when the Hovas did. They still practice divination by the sikidy, and observe lucky and unlucky days; they sacrifice on old stones on joyful occasions, and give thanks to their ancestors who to them have become gods. Their speech is louder, broader and more uncouth than that of the Betsileo. Their chief believes himself to be a great man. No Hova is ever allowed to see him. When he goes abroad his own people also are debarred that pleasure. His attendants cry out: “The Biby is coming,” and every one disappears. His kingdom goes a long way to the south: the people have a trading place below the hills, called Soava: and they visit a port on the west coast, called Isáli. East of these Ibára are the Tanála again.

Much remains to be learned concerning these districts. To the south and south-east there are two small provinces, Anosy and Vangaindrano, never yet visited by the Mission; and yet in one, or both, of them there is Christian work going on through the medium of the Hova officers and garrisons. The beautiful and fertile valley of Ambolo coming down to the sea-coast near Fort Dauphin, is reckoned to the Betsimisáraka people. But the Hova armies have always reached it through the Betsileo provinces: and the river Mangáry is said to be the line of route. Radáma’s troops took full possession of the place fifty years ago, and pulled down the French flag as unauthorised. Hova garrisons have occupied both districts since that time, and they are said to contain a large population. It was from one of these provinces that three years ago some soldiers came to the Capital, after a long march of two months, seeking for Christian books and Bibles. Hova Christians had been teaching the people: chapels had been built: the Sabbath was observed: congregations were gathered. But they had only four Bibles. And as they had heard a rumour that plentiful supplies of Bibles and Hymn books could be obtained in Antananarivo, they resolved to go and see if it was true. The strangers came. They happily fell into the hands of Mr. Parrett; who showed them the wonders of the Mission Press; supplied all their wants and more; and sent them back again with rejoicing hearts. Ought we not to try and learn more about people like these?

From every part of Imahazony, one can see on the east the massive mountain of Ambondrombe. It is distant twelve or fourteen miles, and is some ten miles in length. It stands on the edge of the Betsileo plateau: and from the terrace beneath it to the east it must present one of the grandest objects in Madagascar. It is covered with dense forest. While at Imahazony we heard much about it. It is considered to be the entrance to the Malagasy Hades. Its Betsileo name is I-rántsy, “the evil place.” It is peopled by Tánin-dulo, “sons of ghosts.” “Have you been there?” (we asked of our informant). “No: I dare not go.” “There is a large village there,” he added. “Are there any houses in the village?” “No: none.” All exhibited a great fear of the place. “Well: we Englishmen would not be afraid to go and see it.” “Then you must be very good men.” The people stoutly assured us, that on the day the Queen arrived at Fianáran, the ghosts fired three guns! “We heard them.” When Radáma came into this province he sent three officers to examine Ambóndrombé. Of these one was Raháníraka, so well known in later years as a Government Secretary. He reported that there is in the hill a great cave and that in certain states of the wind, the sound of guns seems to issue from the cave. On this occasion the people probably heard the guns at Fianáran direct.

To the east of Ambóndrombé is the lofty rock of Ikongo, on which is built a native fortress, a maiden stronghold hitherto attempted by enemies in vain. Radáma and his army tried it in his Betsileo campaign. The rock is of peculiar shape, is unusually precipitous and is accessible only by ropes from above. Ikongo is the head of a little kingdom, containing some ten to twenty thousand people. Its chief is very proud of his independence. But it separates him and his people from their Betsileo neighbours: and leaves them all in ignorance and barbarism, Efforts will be made by the Mission to get access to the people and supply them with the knowledge of the Gospel and the means of education. The Queen when in Fianáran sent presents and friendly messages to the Chief of Ikongo; and received a friendly embassy in return.

From Imahazony we returned to Fianárantsoa by the eastern route, under the long buttresses of Ambondrombe and up the great rice valley lying to the east of Ambohimandroso. We rested at Itsimaítsohasóa, the former capital of this district; and were pleased to find a most efficient school and a goodly band of scholars. This district, the fifth and most southern of the Betsileo provinces, is called Iárindráno, “abounding in water,” and it thoroughly justifies its name. From Fianáran southward the great gneiss hills are full of springs, and the little streams are abundant on every side. But off the main road of the province the villages are few. We traversed with ease the long valley south of Midongy; passed beneath the lofty peaks of Sánga-sanga and Vohimánitra; crossed the narrow col of Maneva; and skirting the great boulders of Ieranány, late in the day, reached Fianárantsoa once more in safety.

Our rough journeyings were beginning to tell upon our health: and in Fianáran I was laid up for several days with a severe cold. At this time my colleague and Mr. Cousins paid a visit to the important town of Ifanjakana, which it was proposed to make the centre of a Mission district and the residence of an English Missionary. Ifánjakána is now the chief town in the Sandra province: (4630 feet above the sea); and is the principal residence of the Sandra family, which, before the days of Radáma, ruled the Betsileo people, south of the Matsiatra. This province lies almost entirely west of the road which we had travelled from the capital: it extends westward to the edge of the hills and the line of forest: and it contains several important towns.

My colleagues reached Ifánjakána in eight hours. They travelled to the north and west along the Ranofotsy; then crossed various ridges and narrow valleys to the north-west of the river: passed the village of Itomboana; with many hamlets in fertile valleys: and reached the high ground, scored with long clefts and valleys on which Ifánjakána stands. Beyond it to the west the plateau is high and so continues for ten miles, when it falls away towards the lower plains. They found the town to contain nearly three hundred houses, with fifteen hundred people. On a high ridge facing it to the eastward is the township of Ivohitromby, containing as many more, and giving the same number of people to Government service. The valley east of the town swells into uplands which go off in the direction of Ambohinamboarina. All these valleys contain a scattered population, which has Ifánjakána on its western edge. But a little to the south-east is a fine cluster of villages. Near the ruined town of Mahazarivo are the tombs of the Sandra Kings, surrounded by gigantic trees, planted at the time of their burial. Of the town of Nasandratony the sister of the present prince, granddaughter of the last King, is the head.

Farther west is an important place, Ambohivolamena, “gold-town.” And still beyond, to the south-west, there is a town more important still, Ikálamavóny. It stands below the edge of the plateau, in the lower plain, and it has a high and massive hill behind it. Sheltered from the easterly winds its climate is warm, and its people suffer much from fever. It has often suffered in former days from the raids of the Ibára tribes, and has both had its houses burned and its people destroyed. It has long flourished in recent days under an excellent Hova Governor; and it is owing to his zeal and skill and taste that the Church at Ikálamavóny is the handsomest place of worship in the whole Betsileo. The congregations of this cluster of towns in the Isandra district have had a most interesting religious history: they have been willing scholars, under more than one zealous and devoted native teacher; and the English Missionary who will take them under his charge, will have before him a sphere of solid usefulness.

I need scarcely say that throughout our visit, under the guidance and with the companionship of Mr. Cameron, we followed up with great care the survey of the country. We based it on the survey of Imerina, commenced by Mr. Cameron four years ago. It is laid down by an unbroken succession of cross bearings of a long line of conspicuous points, both up and down the province: and by a series of latitudes, determined by meridian transit of the sun and of various principal stars. Throughout our journey also both ways, I daily placed in my Journal a sketch of the ground traversed; and the number of these local sketches is large. The result of all these observations is embodied in the Map of the district; and only a portion of these results has been referred to now.

As with the map of Imerina the key of the map is the position of the Capital: so in the Betsileo, the key of the whole is the town of Fianárantsoa. By several observations, Mr. Cameron fixed the latitude of the town at 21° 27′ 10″ S. Judging from his map, M. Grandidier, who crossed the Betsileo at this point, makes the latitude the same. Mr. Cameron was foiled in his attempt to determine the longitude by independent observations of Jupiter’s satellites and moon culminating stars: the rolling mists obscuring both moon and planet at the moment when they were needed to be clear. But both Mr. Cameron and M. Grandidier agree in placing Fianáran on a meridian 30′ to the west of the meridian of Antanánarivo. Having both taken and worked out the series of observations myself, I concur with Mr. Cameron in his conclusions: and would fix the longitude of Fianáran at 47° 11′ 30″ E. of Greenwich, at a distance of seventy-five miles from the Indian Ocean.

The following is a brief list of the principal heights in this part of the island:—

The Betsileo Province is a continuation southward of the province of Imerina: and embraces the entire width of the plateau lying along the backbone of the island. On its northern boundary, the river Mania, the province has a breadth of fifty miles: it narrows as it goes southward; at Imahazony, on the line of lat. 22″ S., it has a breadth of only thirty miles: and from the peak of Kinanga, we were in sight of the three ridges which close the province in. The cultivable area within the Province is but a limited portion of the whole: and that which is under cultivation, owing to the scantiness of the population, is smaller still. The province is full of mountains. It seems to be free of volcanic influences: but it is crossed by long ridges of gneiss and clay, strewn with boulders of enormous size. South of Fianárantsoa the rocky ridges lie close together and the massing of the mountains is very grand. Several of its ridges and detached mountains, like Ilalanza and Ipáno, Iódy and Indraimbáki, Kipaséha and Ambóndrombé, I have already named. The cultivated spots of any great size are the basin and valleys of Ambositra; the amphitheatre of Nandihízana; the valleys of Ambóhinamboárina and Ifánjakána; the basins of Ikála and Natao; the valley of the Matsiatra and its offshoots; the valleys of Fianáran; and the broad basin of Ambohimandroso. I have said that the province contains five districts. Two of these, Ambositra and Nándihízana, lie north of the chief river the Matsiatra; and three others, forming the Betsileo proper, lie south of that river, viz.—the Isandra to the west: Ilalangina near Fianárantsoa; and to the south, the Iárindráno, abounding with fertilizing streams.

The province is almost entirely agricultural. Manufactures have made little progress and are at present in a primitive stage. Fine herds of cattle are abundant: one chief duty of the Hova dependents who live down south is to watch over the herds, belonging to Imerina nobles, which are fed on the unoccupied hills and wastes. But the chief staple of the Betsileo is rice, and of this great harvests are reaped, which supply the people with abundance of their favourite food. Give to the Malagasy rice and gravy, gravy and rice, and they desire little more. The ingenuity with which the Betsileo secure their crops is deserving of high praise. I do not mean the unhallowed ingenuity with which, after digging up their rice fields and flooding them, they turn a herd of cattle in and drive them round and round, over and over, the soil to mash and pound and tread it into soft mud, until the poor beasts are utterly wearied and are splashed from head to foot with the filth, which in due time the young rice plants will clothe with their tenderest green. I mean the ingenuity with which they terrace the hills; tap the streams at their highest sources, and lead them down step by step over the terraced fields; or by long channels bring them from one basin to another, making the water do duty many times over and securing abundant fruitfulness. Very pleasant to the eye are these bright terraces when the rice is young. Rich in rice are the valleys of Ambohimandroso and the broad fields of Ikala; but nothing can exceed the skill and care expended on the amphitheatre of Nandihízana, in which the terraces descend step by step from a great height, and a lavish supply of water from three streams, covers them year by year with a golden harvest.

It was in the weekly market of Nandihízana, that we saw as good an illustration of the products of the Betsileo, as in any part of the province. The chief articles exposed for sale were rice, manioc, Indian corn; in meat, pork, beef and fowls; and a little honey, on the purchase of which there was reserved to the buyer the right of clearing the spoon. The manufactures were very simple: lambas made of rofia fibre; a little coarse silk; coarse but strong iron spades; spade handles, timber rafters, thick clumsy window shutters, with the hinge-pin projecting above and below; wooden spoons; leaf plates; grass baskets and earthen plates.

We were surprised and disappointed as to the population. We had always heard that the Betsileo were a million and a half in number. As we traversed the country and saw how painfully empty it is, we asked ourselves again and again: Where are the people? In a few broad basins, in a few rich valleys, are built a small number of towns, having from a hundred to three hundred, houses. Only Fianáran has five thousand people, including the Hova garrison. Enjoying complete security, the peasantry scatter themselves over the open country, not building their houses in large clusters or in villages containing from a hundred to five hundred people; but in válás; with two or three houses each; and in the absence of wood, which will not grow in the hard, foggy climate and the keen east winds, the eye looks with pleasure on the multitude of green rings, the cactus hedges of these little hamlets, which stud the hill-sides, or the terraces above the levels where the rice-plant grows.

The government reckon in all the Betsileo and Tanála provinces fifty thousand hetra or holdings, great and small. This number will indicate as many families; even allowing for changes since the arrangement was made. And that calculation would give for the entire Betsileo a population not exceeding three hundred thousand souls.

In their religious knowledge and character the Betsileo people generally are behind their Hova friends in Imerina. The latter have been under direct missionary instruction for many years: and it was from some of the faithful members of the Hova Churches, living in Fianárantsoa on duty, that the province first received the gospel. It has now fairly got in among the Betsileo proper: the former royal family, many Betsileo nobles and judges, are professed Christians: the majority of the scholars examined by the Queen were Betsileo. The Directors had long planned to send English missionaries to the country districts of the province, as well as to Fianáran, and had sent out men: but until the time of our visit only Fianáran had really been occupied. That town has three churches: and here Mr. Shaw presides over the Normal School: and Dr. Parker conducts the Medical Mission. It was arranged during our stay, that we should occupy as central stations in the country, the towns of Ambositra, Ifánjakána and Ambohimandroso: and before we left Madagascar, English missionaries were occupying the first and last. There will be for the future seven missionaries in the province, with Normal and Theological Institutions; and a good staff of schools.

These important questions all arranged and our personal visits all paid, we commenced our return to the Capital. The season was advancing and the rains might be expected before many days. We left Fianáran on Wednesday, Oct. 15th, taking the road through the centre of the province by which we had come. We spent the Sunday at Ambositra travelled direct to the Mania by Isándrandáhy: saw the strange hills of Kiririoka: climbed the Pass of Ambódifiakárana; and traversed the great granite moor above it to the foot of Vótovórona, one of the finest hills in South Imerina. Keeping to the east road, we rested at Ambatomainty, celebrated for its rats; avoided Be-goáika, still more renowned for its fleas: obtained a fine view of Ankárat and its peaks from Ankazoláva; slept at the foot of the fine boulder hill of Iháranandrían; and reached the Capital, tired out and ill, on Friday, October 24th. We had had a rough journey: but it was worth all the weariness five times repeated, to see what we had seen and to learn what we had learned.

CHAPTER IV.

RETURN TO THE CAPITAL.

Return of the Queen and Military Expeditions—Thunderstorm—Public entry into the City and reception by the People—Uniforms and ceremonies on the occasion—Reason and Course of the War—Our Interview with the Queen—Address from the Directors—Rest in the City—Home at Análakély—Visits to the Institutions in the City—Worship with the Native Churches—Festival of the Fandróana—Visit to Country Missions in Imerina—Importance of these Stations—Vonizongo—The District: its spirited people: their high principle: many of them Martyrs—Position of an English Missionary in these Districts—Ambohimanga—Journey thither across country—A Royal City: its sturdy people: places around it—Ambátovóry: its beauty—Ambatomena and its People—Our return to Antanánarivo.

CHAPTER IV.
RETURN TO THE CAPITAL.

We had just reached the city, and were beginning to rest after our weary journey, when we were quickly followed by the Queen’s Camp, and by the two military expeditions which had been absent in the south-west. All parties were anxious to be safely housed before the rainy season set in. All had observed those premonitions of its approach, which in every country the unscientific seem to read so strangely. And all were anxious that full advantage should be taken of the earliest showers to dig and sow the rice fields. The camp arrived not a moment too soon. The tents had only just been pitched on the plain of Imáhamásina, on Tuesday, October 28th, when at sunset a violent thunderstorm broke over the city, with a perfect deluge of rain. The system of drainage in force in Antanánarivo is truly scientific, and is at the same time severely simple. The water seeks the lowest level, and is allowed to run just where it likes. All the outlets in the centre of the city on its west side converge on the Imáhamásina plain. The camp therefore not only received its fair share of the deluge from above, but became the bed of countless streams below. The entire place was speedily under water. Her Majesty the Queen was safely provided for on the top of the dining-table. But boxes, bedding, dresses, guns, cartridges, were speedily afloat, and the plight of the new arrivals was pitiable in the extreme.

On Thursday, October 30th, the Queen made her public entry into the city: and the people gave her a most hearty welcome. The Queen is exceedingly fond of her subjects, is truly interested in their welfare; and her people yield her a simple but sincere affection in return. The day was therefore a happy one on all sides: and the whole city shared in the joy. The place of reception was Andohálo, a triangular space, on the crest of the city-hill, a little north of the palace. Near the centre of the green is the sacred stone, on which the sovereign stands. The sides of the triangle slope upwards; are partially cut or worn into terraces; and are bordered and overlooked by high houses, gardens and walls. These places afford opportunity for a large number of spectators to dispose themselves conveniently for any public gathering, such as a coronation or the enactment of laws. They were therefore crowded to-day with people of all ages, especially by women and children: it is said that sixty thousand persons were present, and the coup d’œil was most effective. White predominated in the dresses worn: but blue and scarlet, mauve and purple, were present in abundance: and under a sky of brilliant blue, with a sheen in the clear, sharp air, to which our own sombre country is a stranger, the glancing of the light and the play of colour were truly beautiful.

The inner boundaries of the assembly were, as usual in other countries, kept by soldiers. The city guard were all in white and in native dress. But the troops who had accompanied the Queen to the Betsileo were in uniform. As at Fianárantsoa, there marched in not only the ordinary soldiers with Brown Bess as their weapon, but men with the red coats of the English infantry, with trousers having pink and white stripes, or with red knickerbockers; and the young men in rifle green, armed with the Snider rifle. The Armstrong gun, by many degrees the latest “infant” of the artillery community, was brought up with care: and was duly fired. The majority of the men are no doubt militia, and their weapons are ancient and rarely used. Good powder is precious in Madagascar: and the country people have immense faith in an empty gun. Nevertheless, one feels a deep regret that the Malagasy government should keep so many soldiers in arms: and should think so much of military matters.

To me the most interesting element in the military spectacle was this. There stood before us, in groups, at the upper end of the assembly, some five hundred men, wearing the uniforms of Field-Marshals, Generals, Colonels and Sergeant-Majors; in coats of cloth or green velvet, and even long-haired railway rug, covered with gold lace, with high braided collars, and in many instances with epaulets. The larger proportion of them were men in years, holding “honours” and still ranking as officers, though practically “on the retired list.” Some of the uniforms must have been imported in the days of Radáma, and some were of the pattern, both of coat and facings, which we see in Hogarth’s sketches of military life. These were “the ancient men” of the community, the cautious, conservative class, of settled habits, who are afraid of change, and whose influence acts as a powerful break upon those wiser men, who would wish to promote real improvements in the social and public life of the community. Their influence, we hear, has greatly diminished in recent years: the strength and prosperity which are manifestly springing from healthy changes have silenced their opposition; and it is quietly dying out.

The hats on the ground were something wonderful. Such a collection of specimens of the genuine British head-piece, it would be difficult to gather in London itself, except amongst the stores of its Semitic inhabitants. They were of all ages, shapes and sizes. They have been kept with extraordinary care. Not one was black: they were all brown. But not the rusty brown of London, with its dust underfoot and its gloomy skies overhead. It was a rich, glossy brown, due to the sun and the fresh breezes of Madagascar. There was the tall hat, an astonishing production; the French hat; the narrow brim; the brim curled up; and the brim sloping off into infinite space. And there were numerous, choice specimens, the original owners of which it was impossible for the initiated to mistake. As he looked with deep interest on those neat low crowns and broad brims, one of the Friends present declared that they could have come from no other place in the three kingdoms than an Essex-Quarterly-Meeting. To me all this was most suggestive. Antiquated hats, tall collars, costumes of days gone by, worn with satisfaction and believed to be perfectly proper, brass bands and the roar of guns, indicate ideas; and show the phases of opinion and of social life through which this most interesting nation is passing.

At the upper end of the Andohálo plain had been erected a platform for the Queen: and above it was the canopy which had been employed for her coronation, and which bears the inscription: “Glory to God on high: on earth peace: good will to men: may God be with us.” On the platform had been placed her gilded chair and footstool: and a small table with a crown. The English community stood in a group a little to the right and front of this platform: the Norwegian Missionaries were close by: and the members of the French Mission were a little beyond. Behind was a band of judges and magistrates, in purple and brown lambas; with a small knot of Arab merchants, who spoke Malagasy fluently. The guns were fired all the morning, both on the lower plain and on the Andohálo hill: and from nine o’clock the troops from the camp began to march steadily on to the open green. About eleven, the scarlet umbrella appeared at the western end of the little plain. Soon after the Queen alighted, stood for a few moments on the Sacred Stone: and then walked, attended by the Prime Minister, to the platform, whither the ladies of the Court had preceded her. And when she appeared in front, amid the firing of cannon and the music of the military bands, the people testified their delight with shouts of joy. “May you live long, Ruler of Madagascar,” was heard on every side.

The various ranks and classes of the people then in turn expressed their congratulations and offered the “hásina,” a dollar, in token of their loyalty to her rule. The governor of the city and his officers, the judges and magistrates, heads of thousands and heads of hundreds, the governor of Ambohimánga, the superintendent of powder works and others, briefly reported the state of their departments: the Arabs offered their homage: and then the European missions presented their congratulations. The Queen made a brief speech in reply, thanking all parties for the order observed during her absence, and for the good service they had rendered. She expressed her thanks to God and her satisfaction, that she had returned in health and safety: and briefly informed them of what she had been doing among the Betsileo. The people responded with renewed shouts: a general salute followed, both with music and guns; and when the enthusiasm had begun to cool a little, the English present took it up again, and gave a ringing English cheer, thrice repeated, which rather startled the Malagasy, and with which the Queen was greatly pleased. The Prime Minister next described the Queen’s journey and proceedings in the Betsileo. He also announced that the Queen gave the soldiers four months’ holiday after their long march: and she hoped that they would diligently employ it in cultivating their fields, that so they might have plenty of food. The assembly then broke up.

On the following Sunday the city churches were once more filled with large congregations. All the members and preachers who had been absent came to offer their thanksgivings, and to join in worship with their families and friends. The military expeditions also returned to the city. On Monday there was a crowded missionary prayer-meeting, and we had the pleasure of hearing two of the principal officers describe what they had done. The conduct of these expeditions was in many respects so remarkable, that it would be a serious omission not to refer to them.

The reason why war had been declared against the Sákalávas was, that they had refused reparation and apologies for plundering the cattle of the Hovas. Among the Sákalávas are many fugitives and outlaws from the Hova dominions; and it is to their evil conduct and bad advice that the difference has been attributed. In one army, under the command of Rainimáharávo, the chief secretary, were three thousand men. These troops marched to the westward, to a point fifty miles south of the Mania river, and three days’ march from the west coast of the island. They suffered greatly from the heat: but they found their enemies, in a town surrounded by water, and ornamented by magnificent tamarind trees. They fought them for three days, and lost a large number of men: but the enemy fled; the Hovas took possession: and then marched home again. In the second expedition there were fifteen hundred men, under the charge of Ravonináhitriniarivo: they marched on a line a hundred miles south of their friends, and had no fighting. They had daily prayers in the camp: and showed remarkable kindness to the tribes among whom they journeyed. They treated the women and children with respect; they purchased their supplies: and everywhere they left behind a name and reputation held in honour. The Ibára chief said, “If this is the fruit of the praying, it will be good for us to pray too.” Before their departure from the city, a general contribution was made by the churches, to supply their friends with quinine and other medicines, and with comforts needed in their new circumstances. The people were deeply interested in all they heard of their experiences. And when the Vonizongo levies returned home they informed their friends: “We were never treated so before: our officers were most kind: our wants were inquired into: and if we were sick, they gave us medicine.” These were fine illustrations of the influence exercised by Christian truth upon the Hova people.

A few days after her return the Queen kindly received my colleague and myself, with several members of the mission, in special audience: that we might place in her hands the Address which had been forwarded to her by the Directors of the Society; and might offer to her and to the Prime Minister valuable presents of which we were the bearers. Amongst these was a beautiful casket from Mrs. Allon and the ladies of Union Chapel. The Queen expressed herself as much gratified by the Directors’ words, and said she would send her reply when we returned to England. In reference to the younger missionaries who were presented with us, and who had just arrived in the island, the Prime Minister said that they were deeply interested to hear that two of them were about to settle in the Betsileo province: and he appealed to the elder missionaries present as to the protection and security which they had always received and in which their labours were carried on. Our interview with them was a gratifying one. There was a homeliness and a cordiality about their looks and words, and a readiness to respond to our assurances of good will, which showed that we are truly regarded as friends; and that they are themselves truly anxious for the welfare of the people. Such was the intercourse which my colleague and I continued to enjoy with them throughout the period of our stay.

We paid formal visits at this time to other principal officers of the government, men of high standing in the community. And as we came to see and know more of them as days passed by, it was a matter of great thankfulness to find that there are amongst them so many men of sincere, simple piety and consistent life, whose families also entertain a strong attachment to the gospel and to the churches of which they are members. This is true of many younger men and women as well as of their elders. At the same time, amongst some of the young men, things occur which occasion deep grief not only to their English friends, but to their own families.

What a treat it was at this time to enjoy the rest of a quiet life. For four months we had been incessantly on the move: first in sea-life, in fierce heat, rough waters and strong winds; then on land, up hill and down hill in these Malagasy districts, journeying through the most mountainous country I have ever seen. It was no wonder that we had returned to the Capital, wearied and ill: and that it took many days to recover from the exhaustion produced by our rough journeyings. But our purpose had been accomplished; and we had already completed one valuable portion of our appointed duties. The fresh air had not been without its advantages. We had both come back as brown as gipsies; and my hands were never so burned before by the sun and the air. What a treat it was to see the sky of brilliant blue, and quietly to breathe the pure, fresh breezes. The air was thin, but it was bright, clear and quickening, and we revelled in it. The light and heat were far less powerful than in India, and I enjoyed them thoroughly. The mornings in November were exquisitely fine and fair. During the day the thermometer would rise to 72°-77°. And by a strange but convenient rule the thunderstorms would come on after four or five o’clock in the afternoon. The lightning was at times intense: it would run along the sky in silver veins; or shoot to the earth like an arrow of molten gold, or throw a violet tint over the red hills; while the thunder followed instantly with the roar of artillery, and reverberated from hill to hill in long, rolling peals. When we arrived the country was brown; or vast patches of it were blackened by the grass fires that swept over them day after day. But now the hills were clothed with grass fresh and young; and the rice growing tall and strong in the flooded fields, hid the entire plain of Imerina with a mantle of brilliant green.

For six weeks at this time I resided in Análakély, as the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Thorne. And no one could have studied more than did my kind hostess, to secure for me in my isolation, the comfort of a truly pleasant home. Most gratefully do I cherish the memory of her affectionate kindness: and deeply did I share the grief of many around me, when in the month of April she was called away from her earnest labours here to the higher service of the heavenly world.

The house we lived in is English built and of English pattern. It contains six rooms of moderate size: laid out in two stories after the following fashion:

The roofs run from east to west over the two north rooms: and from north to south over the dining room. And the house presents the following appearance.

MR. PEARSE’S HOUSE.

I give these particulars for two reasons. In erecting this house for the Rev. J. Pearse, Mr. Pool not only provided a modest and comfortable dwelling, thoroughly suitable for an English family; but in the form he gave it he so exactly hit Malagasy taste that the people were charmed with it. Wealthy natives began building others like it for themselves: it became the model which they were anxious as far as might be to copy; and scores of new houses like it may now be seen, not only in Antanánarivo, but dotting the more distant parts of Imerina; to the great comfort of the people and the improvement of the arrangements of their homes. The large one-roomed houses of old Madagascar will, in due time, disappear before these newer dwellings. Even the numerous Field Marshals give them their approval, though they scarcely know how to use them.

My colleague and I at this time enjoyed the opportunity of visiting the principal institutions of the city maintained by the various missions. We addressed the Theological students, for instance: visited the Friends’ Boys’ School, and Miss Gilpin’s noble Girls’ School; our own Girls’ Central School; the Normal School; and the Medical Mission Hospital, to which Dr. Davidson had just returned after his visit to Europe, and in which Dr. Mackie and he find so great a sphere of usefulness. We were present also at the half-yearly meeting of the Imerina Church Union; and were greatly struck with the interest which the members took in the public affairs of the churches and the spread of Christianity in the island.

It was a peculiar pleasure to me to renew my acquaintance with the native churches of which the Society has now so many in various parts of the world. I have worshipped with our converts in many languages and in many lands. And everywhere I have admired the gentleness of that Christian life which is being developed amongst the races of the East. Our English Christian life is of a high order, full of energy, heroic, tried in its principle, self-denying in its service, ever on the watch against undesirable complications, dealing with the deepest problems of religious, social and public life. Its loftiness of principle however renders it a piety of a somewhat hard type, trammelled with the order, the stiffness, the proprieties of many, many centuries. These Eastern converts, made in our own time, are more free. They have more of feeling in their nature, more sentiment, more of the affectionate and the emotional in their life and worship. And what gentle Christians their good women become. How these Malagasy people sing: and how they enjoy their singing. An hour’s “service of song” is the ordinary prelude to the Sunday morning’s worship. They have a fine sense of time: they appreciate harmony in the highest degree: they always take four parts; and when (as in the Capital) they are well taught, they sing with a fervour, a sweetness and a plaintive tenderness, which often brought tears into my eyes. It is very refreshing to see their simple piety, their delight in worship, their strong attachment to the Word of God. This is the good side of these churches, the encouraging element in the Mission work around us. There is alas! too much which is defective, even in Imerina. In the Betsileo the people are still more backward. There the outlying congregations get almost no teaching: good preachers and competent teachers are few: the singing is poor; the schools are poor; readers are few. We are anxious to meet these things: to spread our English Missionaries more widely among them: the Normal Schools and Theological Classes will year by year increase the number of trained instructors. There is real life on all sides. We have now to build it up: to nourish, feed and strengthen it in these children in the faith, until, under God’s blessing, they grow up into the full stature of men in Christ Jesus.

Every work on Madagascar describes the festival of the Fandróana. This year it began on the fourth of December and we had the pleasure of seeing some of its observances. Many superstitious rites were once connected with the festival: in these Christian days it has become almost entirely a season of universal fellowship and social regard. Fat bullocks occupy a conspicuous place in its arrangements: and noble specimens are brought into the city. They are slaughtered on a special day: and then everybody sends to everybody affectionate messages and presents of beef. Every family receives abundance: and the poor get a large supply. Our native friends of all ranks sent huge quantities to the Mission families; and our servants and dependents, the Mission Hospital and the Church poor, came in for a good share. Christianity has purified the festival and lifted it into a higher region of human sympathy and consideration: and long may the Fandróana last, a national Christmas in reality though not in name.

As soon as it was over Mr. Pillans and I left the city on a visit to the three Country Missions already established in Imerina. To these and similar stations the Directors of the Society attach the highest importance. They gladly attach to the City a small number of missionaries for the instruction of the Theological and Normal Schools, on which all stations in town and country depend; and for the guidance of the City Churches, whose views and example become the model which the Country Churches copy. Beyond this limited number, the Directors are anxious that every missionary available shall have pastoral charge of a large district at a distance from the Capital; and that these brethren, residing in the midst of their people, shall be to them new centres of Christian light and life and power. They hold in high honour the men and women who are willing thus to isolate themselves for the sake of the Master and of the weak yet willing children who need their help. Such men become “Bishops” indeed, during the youth of these imperfect churches: we have many such in our Society; we see similar brethren in other Societies; and great is their usefulness.

We proceeded in the first instance to the district of Vonizongo, which lies north-west from Antananarivo, at a distance of thirty miles: and we started on Friday, December 12th. We had with us thirty men, of whom fifteen had been our companions in the Betsileo journey: their wages were sixpence a-day and twopence for food, out of which one penny was clear profit! Our road lay through the City Market, across the rice fields and along the embankments of the Ikopa river for several miles. To the north we had the long ridge which bears the important town of Ambóhidratrimo: once one of the twelve cities of Imerina, and the head of a little kingdom. It contains three hundred houses, and on the crest of the hill, above a mass of giant boulders, towers a splendid Amóntana tree, which is visible over all Imerina. At a later period we visited the town, and saw Mr. Baron settled in his new quarters. Beyond this town, we passed through a great deal of swamp, the remains of the original marshes of Imerina, and still full of the papyrus reeds, which the people find so useful for roofing. Thence we skirted Ambóhimanóa, a noble hill on a broad base, one of the great landmarks of the province; rested for a while at Soávina; crossed the ridge of Ambóhimirímo; entered the broad valley of Vonizongo; and after traversing endless rice fields, on paths six inches wide, at the end of eleven hours, reached the Mission-house at Fiháonana, and received a warm welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Matthews.

Vonizongo is a broad open valley, fifteen miles wide by twenty miles long. It has the noble mountain of Lóhavóhitra for its eastern boundary: on the west is a long low ridge of the usual red clay. West of this again is a fine valley, which has for its western boundary the lofty, curving ridge of Ambóhimánga: outside of this running north-west to the sea is the river Ikopa. The centre of the province consists of the sandy clay, deeply scored by the strong streams which flow from Lóhavóhitra: along the waters everywhere the levels are cultivated with rice, and small villages are numerous. The northern part of the district is a lofty moor, which clings to the skirts of the Ambóhimánga ridge, and over which the east winds blow keen and piercing. Fiháonana, the chief town, contains only seventeen houses. But it is and has long been the residence of the chief of the local clans: and there are large villages at a short distance. The population are much scattered: and there are four or five clusters of villages, with fields and churches and a goodly number of inhabitants, within eight miles of Fiháonana; which at once point out the form which Christian labour must take among them: and there are other clusters about Fierénana and in North Vonizongo to be dealt with in the same way.

The inhabitants of Vonizongo have always been a spirited and independent people. Radáma made soldiers of them, and he found them brave, enduring and self-reliant. They used to have a multitude of chiefs, each with a long pedigree and a longer tail of dependents and clansmen. The power of the chief over his people was as great and as summary in its dealings, as that of the Highland chiefs of old days: and the clannish feeling is still very strong. The intelligence and spirit of these tribes led them to appreciate the teachings of the missionaries in the earliest days. Several lads from the district attended their schools in Antanánarivo; and both Mr. Johns and Mr. Griffiths visited them. Indeed the missionaries and the people felt an unusual regard for one another. The missionaries found their teaching appreciated. The story of the Bereans was rehearsed once more. “These were more noble than those of Thessalonica: in that they searched the Scriptures daily whether these things were so: therefore many of them believed, and consorted with Paul and Silas: also of the devout Greeks, and of the chief women not a few.” Can we wonder at the experiences which followed? The mother of the present chief of the clans, was the first convert: her eldest son was burned as a martyr for the Gospel: her second son was sold as a slave: two men from the first little church, in their Christian zeal, went to preach to the Sákalávas: were arrested on their return by the frontier garrison; and were speared in the market-place for their Christianity. One noble woman, Rabódománga, boldly gave testimony to her faith before the judges: “I do not pray to wood and stone and to the mountains: unto God alone do I pray.” Four of the sisters of this brave woman were martyred. Of the fourteen martyrs who were thrown over the precipices of Ampamarinana, seven were from Vonizongo.

Of Razáka, the pastor of Fiháonana, now growing grey with years, Mr. Matthews spoke to us thus: “He is one of the most remarkable men I ever met. To this man we owe not only the number, but the satisfactory state of the churches in a large part of Vonizongo. He was sent to the coast by Radáma II., while prince, before the death of his mother, in order to see what the French missionaries were doing on the west coast. He was captured by the Sakalavas, was sold to the French, and was taken to Bourbon. There they tried hard to make a priest of him, but could not; he knew his Bible too well. When they found that they could make nothing of him, and that he was likely to turn some of their people from them, by teaching the Gospel, they sent him back to Madagascar. He returned, after some time, to his own village. Since the death of the old Queen, in 1861, he has been not only the pastor of the mother church at Fiháonana, but really the head of the whole district, and the man to whom all the churches look as to their father and their guide. Although only a clansman, and neither a chief nor a freeman, such is the respect felt for the man, that he has more influence in the district than twenty chiefs.”

It was a great pleasure to Mr. Pillans and myself to see this good man: to talk with him of the hard days of trial; and to hear from his own lips the story of the sufferings endured. He told us of the meetings which the fugitive Christians held for worship and mutual help. They used to come long distances to such meetings; tracts were lent from one to the other, as a tract could often be carried, and hidden away under their garments, when a Bible or Testament could not. Parts of the New Testament were also lent about, even to single leaves; and leaves of the hymn book and Pilgrim’s Progress. He said that they often used to long for a rainy night, in order that they might be able to sing. He showed us the underground passage beneath the floor of his house, by which, when the soldiers came to search, the inmates and visitors could escape. He accompanied us to a pile of immense rocks, and showed us the little cave beneath the big boulder, three feet high, into which they used to creep for their meetings: and the hollow where their Bible was hid away. He brought vividly before us the sufferings and the persecution which his heroic brethren and himself had endured: and in him we realized something of the power of that faith by which all had been sustained. Few finer bodies of Christians have been won to Christ by modern missions than these faithful men and women in Vonizongo.

MARTYRS’ CAVE.

We remained ten days with Mr. Matthews, every day finding some new object of interest. We accompanied him to the principal localities of the district and made a careful survey of the whole: we ascended Lóhavóhitra and had a fine prospect of the country to the west. We were much struck with the respectability of the people: with their bright, intelligent looks: with the self-respect manifest in the demeanour of the Christian women; and with their hearty enjoyment of the religious services at which we were present. Two of the most pleasant days we spent in the island were occupied in visiting the northern groups of churches at Ambóhizánakólona and Sambáina. We were glad to take the pastors by the hand, especially Rainisóa, the pastor at Sambaina, the son and nephew of faithful martyrs, himself a devoted instructor and guide of the people committed to his care. We could not doubt the genuineness and the thoroughness of Christ’s work in Madagascar, when we visited churches like these.

We were clear also on the important point of the true position to be held by the general body of English missionaries in Madagascar. All who do not hold staff appointments in the Theological and Normal Schools, but have the care of churches, should be placed in charge of districts also. Each district should have its centre, with three or four sub-centres. Instruction should be given specially and on system to the preachers and pastors of the entire district: on system also to the people generally by Bible classes maintained at the sub-centres: and to the children in schools. An English missionary in Madagascar can rarely visit the scattered congregations of his district; but by teaching and advising all his preachers, and by systematically working on his principal people at its centre and sub-centres, in the course of a few years he will, under God’s blessing, contribute much to the enlightenment of the whole. This form of labour is thoroughly approved by the missionaries generally, and is carried out to a greater or less degree in all the country districts.

We left Fiháonana on December 23d after a most pleasant visit, with a view to spend Christmas with Mr. and Mrs. Sibree at Ambóhimánga, which lies due east from Vonizongo. We passed under the west face of Lohavóhitra, descending into deep gullies and crossing several streams; came to the river Anjomóka, with which they unite: and which about twelve miles farther to the west and south falls into the Ikopa. We were now on the northern border of Imerina and were approaching the great mountain mass of Andringitra, with its sacred, oracular caves. We passed beneath the western buttresses of Miakótsy; and then under Andringitra itself. It is a noble mountain, without any prominent peak, but presenting an enormous mass with a high curved ridge, the most conspicuous object in North Imerina. To the south are the long green ridges of Ambóhipiháinana and Ambohipoloálina. Passing these we entered a long and narrow valley under the ridge of Ambóatány, and early in the afternoon arrived at Ambóhimánga.

The town of Ambohimanga stands on the long gneiss ridge, which, under the roots of Andringitra, forms the northern boundary of the Imerina plain. The ridge has been broken through at various points; and the hill of Ambohimanga is isolated from those parts of the ridge which lie east and west of it. It is beautifully wooded on all sides. On the north side the houses appear among the trees in three large clusters; and numerous villages are scattered about the clay roots and slopes of the hill. On the south the face of the hill is precipitous: and the gneiss rock shows itself in grey masses, among the woods, in which the white, thin stems of the Amiana trees, gigantic nettles, are specially abundant.

Ambohimanga is a royal city; it holds high rank in the kingdom; and indeed is always associated with Antananárivo in public proclamations. It was one of the twelve great cities of former days; and held almost the highest position among them. It is a favourite royal residence. The great defender of the idols, Queen Ránaválona, is buried here; and it is probably far more from that fact, and from her known enmity to Europeans, supposed to subsist still, that they are not admitted into the city. The Malagasy hold far more literally than we do the idea that if English missionaries were allowed to preach on the top of the Ambohimanga hill, the old Queen would “turn in her grave!” The present Queen twice visited Ambohimanga during our stay in the island: she was there at Christmas, when we reached the place: and every day she would sit out on the level rock at the summit of the hill, while the scarlet umbrella indicated to her people that their sovereign was “eating the air.” Ambohimanga contains probably five thousand people. The ruling tribe of the place are termed Tsi-máha-fótsy, “those who do not grow white” with fear; “the bold and true, in bonnet blue, who fear and falsehood never knew.” They are bold and brave, but they are rough in manners and rude in speech. They rather pride themselves upon giving to every one, be it their sovereign or their missionary, a bit of their mind. And they have yet to learn that rudeness is no ornament to bravery, whether in Gaul, Goth or Northman; and that it is possible to wear a velvet glove over an iron hand.

There are three Christian Churches in Ambohimanga: and excellent schools both for boys and girls, conducted by Mr. and Mrs. Sibree. There are numerous other churches in populous villages in the immediate neighbourhood: churches out in the Imérina plain among the rice fields, and churches all along the roots of Andringtra: churches in a great valley to the northward, enclosed by noble granite hills, the Anátivólo; and a cluster of churches five miles to the eastward on the edge of the barren moors. As in the case of Vónizóngo, so with Ambohimanga and its district, we felt what a noble sphere of effort it constitutes: and admired the energy and devotion with which our friends in these country districts have accepted their isolated position for the usefulness which it secures. We were debarred from the pleasure of worshipping with the city congregations; because they assembled around the Queen, at the top of the hill and within the city gates, which no European, English or French may pass. But we visited one or two of the district churches a short distance away; we saw several of the Ambohimanga Christians, and among them the sturdy pastor Rainikoto, whose father was priest of the great idol, who guarded this portion of the country.

We spent some delightful days with our kind host and hostess and with two other mission families, which were rusticating at Ambohimanga during the Christmas holidays. We scoured the country, looking in upon the “lions,” and finding among them many objects of interest. The idol village of Amboatány we found embowered in trees, the Aviávy fig, the Amóntana with its broad glossy leaves, and the gigantic nettle-tree, the Amiana. Near it are the enormous boulders of Mánga-be. North of Ambohimanga are three beautiful hills, richly clothed with green, with flourishing villages at their feet. Four miles to the east on an isolated hill is the old royal city of Ambóhidrabíby; it is named from its king Rá-bíby, who is said to have discovered the excellence of beef, just as Charles Lamb’s Chinese friends found out the delicate flavour of roast-pig. He was a noted hunter too, and among the swamps filled with huge reeds and rushes, like Macaulay’s Etruscan hero, he brought to bay and slew the great wild boar, which was the terror of the country:—

“The great wild boar, which had his den,

Among the reeds of Cosa’s fen:

And wasted fields and slaughtered men

Along Albinia’s shore.”

From this exploit he was named Ralámbo. His tomb stands outside the old house where he lived and is a simple structure. His lineal descendant, the head of the tribe here, still occupies the house; and being of a practical turn of mind ornaments his little garden with beans, cabbages and onions, as well as dahlias and roses.

A mile from this antiquated town, we came upon a pretty chapel in Ambodi-fáhitra, built with good taste in Gothic style and having coloured glass windows. We were not expected: and were pleased to find a good school of boys and girls busily at work. The pastor of this church is a younger brother of one of the martyrs, Andriamán-anténa, who lived close by. When I took his hand, said I was glad to see him, and told him how his brother was honoured in England, he was profoundly astonished; and said how could you know anything about me and him? The martyr’s widow still lives and is one of the most hospitable ladies in all Imérina. On two occasions we visited her house and were most comfortably provided for.

On Monday, December 29th, we quitted this pleasant corner of Imerina, for another mission station, Ambátovóry, which lies to the east of the capital. As before we enjoyed the advantage of crossing the country by an unusual route and of seeing a great deal that was new. The valley of the Mámba we found full of villages and churches. Passing through the ridge which bounds it, we came opposite a remarkable village, Ambátomanóina, a mass of boulders of enormous size, but embowered in trees. Thence we passed by the town of Soávina, the chief town of the district, close to which the new mission-house has been built; and winding in and out among the hills, soon reached the hospitable abode of Mr. and Mrs. Peake, which had received us on our first arrival in Imerina.

Ambátovóry is a place of peculiar beauty, and is in many ways fitted to be the sanatorium of the Imerina Mission. It is only ten miles from the capital. Bracing air, pure water, noble hills, rich cultivated valleys, patches of forest, beds of ferns, and broad moors, contribute to its beauty. Close to it on the east is the noble mountain of Angávokély; and on the south a fine conical hill, Ambóhitsilého, covered with boulders, and looking like an enormous pine-apple. The ground is high, 4600 feet above the sea; potatoes grow readily, and the soil should produce wheat and English grain and fruit. The Cape laburnum, with its rich clusters, was in full flower: the little thorny Euphorbia brightened the hedges with scarlet or yellow flowers; and all over the hills the wild flowers were abundant.

In their religious knowledge the people of Mr. Peake’s district are far more backward than their neighbours of the Imerina plain. And he will have hard work to get them on. The population immediately around the station amounts to about 12,000: but they are conveniently distributed and three excellent sub-centres for regular visitation, can be formed at no great distance.

There is one bright exception to this state of things. Among the new arrangements of the mission, was the transfer of a group of churches from the care of Mr. Wills and his people to that of Mr. Peake. And two months after our present visit to Ambátovóry, in March 1874, we went to the station again to be present on the occasion. Ten miles to the northward, out on the great moors, is a noble ricevalley, abundantly supplied with water. Around this valley are thickly clustered several fine villages: Ambátoména, Antsámpandráno, and Ambóhitsehéno are the chief: there are many others, and they contain in all a population of more than five thousand souls. Several fountains burst from the higher parts of the moor, and soon run into streams and rivers, all of which are head waters of the Betsiboka. Two of these fine streams run together at the foot of a hill, on which stands a fine village with a church. The hill and village are called Antsámpandráno, “the meeting of the waters.” From this point the river is called the Mánanára. A mile to the north, it flows into a broad level plain, which forms the finest rice plain we saw in the province except the central portion of Imerina itself. We found the people a most amiable, spirited and intelligent people. We visited them in three congregations. Each church was crammed; and in every case there were two hundred and more listeners outside. In the three churches we had not less than three thousand people, including many children. They took a deep interest in the change of superintendence: and heartily approved of it, promising to give Mr. Peake a warm welcome among them. They received us most kindly and treated us royally. At each place they wanted us to dine after the service. We staved off their well meant hospitality the best way we could. But our bearers were less scrupulous. They confessed to having had two dinners within an hour and a half: and some of them tried a third shortly after. We found that these good people were a colony from Ilafy. And that they have themselves sent off a swarm, to people another valley of the Mánanára, forty miles to the north; where they formed the village of Anjozórobé and its neighbours.

Later on and after the visit to Ambátoména in March, we left Ambátovóry to retrace our steps along the Tamatave road and pay a visit to Angávo. After living long among the bare hills of Imerina, we were greatly struck with the richness and profusion of the Angávo forest and with the loveliness of the hills. We saw nothing to equal it in all Madagascar. Thence we passed to Andrángalóaka, also on the borders of the forest, and spent three pleasant days with Dr. Davidson. We saw also Mántasóa, the great factory of former days, in which the chief workshops were built by the Christian martyrs, who had been enslaved. We visited also the iron district, and examined the claims of three towns in that direction to be the residence of an English Missionary. Of these Ambátomanga, the usual stopping place of visitors to the capital in former times, was one. Hills, rocks and valleys, running streams, rice fields, villages, succeeded one another in rich variety and ceaseless numbers. In these country visits we added hourly to our knowledge of this strange but interesting land, and understood more clearly the way in which its people have been led and trained for their present attainments and for the part which they have yet to play in the world’s history. And we looked with deep interest upon the old idol village of Ambóhimánambóla, with its great cactus hedges and inhospitable dogs; and saw the spot, where in September 1869 the idol had been brought from his house and burned before all eyes. “Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth.”

CHAPTER V.

HOW IT STRIKES A STRANGER.

Settling in the Capital—My Madagascar Home—Prospect over Imerina—Family Life and Housekeeping—Our Servants, the Garden—Weather, Thunderstorms—Beauty of Imerina—The great City Market: Food, Dress and Manufactures Sold—Low Prices—Money—Settlements of the European Families—Roads—Our Dress—The Sun—The Palace—Social Life in the Capital—Lack of External Stimulus—Sources from which it may be supplied—Memorial Church at Faravohitra—The Martyrs who suffered there—Conference of Missionaries held in January—Topics discussed—Resolutions and Arrangements—Concluding Meeting—Important Re-arrangements resulting from it—Love of the Bible among the People—The Churches in the City—Opening of the Memorial Church at Ampamarinana.

CHAPTER V.
HOW IT STRIKES A STRANGER.

The rainy season had fully set in and we prepared to settle down in the Capital for three or four months. Busy times were before us. We had to hold important consultations with the missionary brethren respecting the arrangements of the mission: we had correspondence to maintain with home: and there was much to accomplish in working out our numerous observations and framing maps of the Imerina and Betsileo Provinces. Our first work was to provide a suitable home for this period of our stay. Mr. and Mrs. Pillans found a neat little house on the east side of the City-hill: and with the help of an excellent native woman and her husband, intelligent, kind-hearted and upright people, they managed their novel housekeeping exceedingly well. Mr. and Mrs. Grainge kindly received me into their house; and until I finally left the city they provided so kindly and considerately for all my wants, that it became to me a very pleasant home.

Our house was situated at the end of the Faravóhitra hill; on a long clay spur projecting to the north and east, which spread out into a level terrace, with steep banks on its north and west sides. The house faces the west, and has opposite a noble mass of granite rock, above which stands conspicuous the Faravohitra Memorial Church. From the north side of the terrace we had a beautiful view over the Imerina plains. The wooded hill of Ambóhimánga; the solid arched ridges of Andringitra, the lofty peaks of Lóhavóhitra, and the broad massive hill of Ambóhimonóa, formed the outer border of the landscape. Naméhana was in the centre of the picture on its round hill; on the right was Iláfy with its green woods: while close before us were the large villages of Ankádifotsy and Manjákaráy, with their dark red soil, their neat new chapels, their numerous well-built houses and long walls.

Our house was limited in size, though it looked large; having but four rooms round a large central hall. It was built of sun-dried brick; had two gables on its west front; and a verandah all round. A weak point in the house was, that though boarded, it was on a level with the ground. The house was not native, but of English pattern, and would pass very well for an Indian bungalow. My own room was soon put in order: and with its camp bed and washing-stand, a solid table, a deep wardrobe, my travelling-trunks, and its little fire-place, it was a cosy, comfortable den. The broad shelves of the wardrobe contained my books, clothes and instruments: and kept my papers, maps and letters within easy reach. On the top were ranged a camera, my tool-box, a small chest of tea, and a supply of English stores. Here I passed many months of pleasant toil, editing the Conference Papers, conducting correspondence, drawing maps; and holding friendly consultations with numerous visitors, who came to talk over serious matters, or perhaps have a quiet chat over four-o’clock tea.

As in all Christian missions abroad, our family life was very simple. The meals were breakfast, dinner and tea: the English supper, as in other tropical countries, being omitted. Beef was the chief meat available; and occasionally good mutton, with the long, fat tail. Turkeys, ducks and fowls we could buy in abundance. The potatoes were moderately good; stewed peaches are a dish for a king; and peas are becoming common: but the country has few green vegetables like those of England. The Malagasy have no cakes and no bread. These are made in the mission families from flour imported either from England or the Cape. Good coffee is being grown on the island: but our tea and sugar, sauces, oils and pickles, were all imported. Good jam is made from the Cape gooseberry, well known in India, and also from the mango: but all the usual English jams were imported from home. Of eggs and milk we could obtain a good supply: and butter was made in the house; on the primitive system of shaking the milk in a bottle. The stock of rice in the markets is large: but we could not get for an English table the many finer kinds which are so abundant in India.

Our Malagasy servants were not nearly so skilful, so neat in their dress or so regular in their habits, as are servants in India. They have been under English training a comparatively short time; till recently many of them have not been able to earn money for themselves: and they have lacked the great motives to personal improvement and diligence by which the free service of India is stimulated. What curious costumes they would at times put on! What strange cookery they would produce! What vagaries they would be guilty of! Indian servants worry their mistresses enough in household arrangements: but I am afraid that the Malagasy servants are a greater worry still. My own servant was willing and attentive; but he was not strong: and certainly he went through a great deal and travelled far in the course of my wanderings in the island. His wages were six shillings a month for service; and two shillings extra for food: and on that magnificent sum he maintained a wife and two children; kept his house in repair; and subscribed systematically to his church funds. I learned much Malagasy from him: and with occasional interpretations of difficult matters from my host and hostess, we managed to understand each other tolerably well.

Our house stood within a large garden: and the pains taken by my hostess in cultivating it were rewarded by seeing it for months together bright and gay with flowers. Many of our English flowers grew readily: but nothing could equal the coxcombs in their beauty. The flowers were enormous: we had eleven in the garden, all handsome in form and of a deep rich crimson. But one, the pride of the garden, grew to be thirty-two inches in length and eighteen inches across: and when finally cut off, close to the green stem, it weighed two pounds and a quarter. It was a truly splendid flower.

Our garden was a very practical place also. We grew English peas, broad beans, French beans, carrots, mint and vegetable marrows. We had a large number of mango-trees, which yielded a good crop of mangoes, and several bibás or loquat trees, which also gave very sweet fruit. And several cucumber vines secured a regular supply of English cucumbers.

During the rainy season, from December to April, the weather was exceedingly pleasant. The sun was hot: but the air in Imerina is thin and the heat was not oppressive or fiery, as on the coast or in the plains of India. The thermometer usually stood in the shade at 75°. Under a strange but convenient rule the storms and thundershowers rarely fell before four in the afternoon. But often during the evening they would burst with great violence: the lightning would stream in chains of molten silver all over the sky; the thunder would follow in sharp, cracking peals with a terrific cannonade; and then the rain fell in torrents. During the morning the air was exquisitely fresh and crisp and pure: the sky was a pale, delicate blue; the light was sharp and brilliant; and we could distinctly see objects many miles away, as if they were close by.

The view from the platform on which our house stood, over the plain to the northward was wonderfully beautiful. Bordered by grand hills and studded with hundreds of villages and towns, Imerina is in many respects one of the most picturesque provinces of Madagascar. Here it is gay with the bright green of the young rice: there it is shaded with the dark woods of Iláfy and Ambóhimánga. Here the great turtle-head rock of Ambátomaláza stands conspicuous in the landscape, or the lofty pillars of the Three Sisters; there are the long slope of Fándravásana, the rugged peaks of Antóngona, or the towering masses of Ankáratra. Here lie the quiet waters of the Queen’s Lake, with its little island embowered in trees; there are seen clusters of villages with their brown huts, the green ramparts of Ambóhidrapéto or the lofty amóntana of Ambóhidratrímo. It was impossible to survey this wide-spread scene without feelings of exhilaration and delight. We know the golden glory which at sunset lights up the snows of Switzerland: but nothing can exceed the sharpness of the light as it plays over the landscape in the crisp, clear air of Madagascar after refreshing rain; and no pen can describe the deep golden blush which beautifies the red hills with an unearthly radiance when the autumnal sun sinks calmly to rest. Day after day, from the terrace of my Madagascar home I looked with feelings akin to rapture upon that wondrous scene. For I saw on every side not merely material beauty, the grace of form, rich tones and tints of colour, or the bountiful supply for a people’s wants; I beheld the proofs of a young nation’s progress; new houses rising in the villages; new houses of better pattern for the wealthier classes. I saw the fortressed hills deserted for the open plain; peace, security, mutual confidence had taken the place of intestine war: I saw the new school-house and the handsome church, intelligent children and devout congregations; I saw that men were living in truer fellowship with men, because together they were striving to rise higher towards God.

The great market of Antananarivo was a place full of interest to us strangers. It is called the Zoma or Friday, because it is held upon that day. It stands on the north-west of the city; on the hill which forms the outer side of the Analakely valley. It is lozenge-shaped, and its sides are about sixty yards long. It may once have proved spacious; but the requirements of the place have outgrown the accommodation and it is now far too small for its work. It is believed that thirty thousand people come into it from the country every Friday. The south side of the market extends to the public road, and there have been erected a line of booths, covering wooden platforms, which in Madagascar form the nearest approach to shops. Everywhere else there is a great absence of convenient arrangements for the display and sale of goods. A few squares of raised clay, a few wooden frames, a few large umbrellas, these are the only fittings. In most cases the traders just lay their goods on the ground on mats or a white cloth. There are also no fixed roads through and across the market-place, and it is as difficult to move through the dense crowd as through a herd of cows.