details into no language so well as into his own mother-tongue. Almost all these stories had sung parts, and of some of these even those who sung them could scarcely explain the meaning. I suppose they had been brought down from the interior by slaves, and perhaps corrupted by them as they gradually forgot their old language.
It will be observed that the place of the fox in our stories is here taken by the Sungura, which I ought perhaps to have translated by rabbit, as European rabbits are called Sunguras. I asked a native friend why Sunguras should be thought so cunning. He said, "Look at one; it is always moving its mouth, as though it had something to say about everything." It is very common in the streets of Zanzibar to hear one person call out to another—Ee Sungura wee! as much as to say—You fox, you! but there is more of reproach in the Swahili than in its English equivalent. There is a famous story of all the beasts agreeing to dig a well, and the Sungura alone refused to help. When it was finished, they watched in turn to prevent his getting water, but he cheated them all except the spider. Again, whenever a snake is mentioned, something more or less magical is sure to be connected with it.
Some likenesses to well-known English tales will strike every one. 'Sultan Darai' is in its first part like all tales of stepmothers, and in its last curiously like 'Puss in boots.' In 'Sultan Majnun,' the hero has a name as nearly like Cinderella as may be (p. 241), and his exploits after all his elder brothers have failed are quite in the old track. 'Goso the Teacher' (p. 285) is absurdly after the pattern of the 'House that Jack built.' Other stories will interest those who are fond of comparing the fairy tales of all nations.
