flame and a terrible explosion. This double wonder was too much for these sages. The scene that followed is indescribable. One fellow rushed through the window and scampered; one fainted and fell upon the floor; another, in his consternation, overturned chairs, tables, and everything in his way, took refuge in the bedroom, under the bed, from which he was with difficulty afterwards removed.
It need not be added that they gave no more trouble, and the practice they sought to break up was the more increased for their pains.[1]
In Southern Guinea, and especially in the Gabun country, the natives are unsurpassed for their cunning and shrewdness in trade; and even in everything in the way of dealing with strangers. The following anecdote will illustrate how easily they can turn matters to their own account.
There is a notable character in the Gabun, of the name of Cringy. No foreigner ever visits the river without making his acquaintance; and all who do so, remember him forever after. He speaks English, French, Portuguese, and at least half a dozen native languages, with wonderful ease. He is, in person, a little, old, grey-headed, hump-backed man, with a remarkably bright, and by no means unpleasant eye. His village is perched on a high bluff on the north side of the Gabun River, near its outlet. He generally catches the first sight of vessels coming in, and puts off in his boat to meet the ship. If the captain has never been on the coast before, Cringy will make a good thing out of him, unless he has been warned by other sailors. The cunning African is a pilot; and
- ↑ "A Pilgrimage to my Motherland." Campbell.
