When the winter came over the land But in the parson's soul there came, the parson had gone, too.

oddly enough, the awaking echoes: Life had been darkening for him for “The trumpet shall sound"-and "We some time, and even Irene had made shall be changed,” he said, hardly no sign of remembrance. The parson knowing why he said so. No trumpet was gradually losing his hopefulness, had sounded, save that one clear call that had remained as the last remnant to duty whic is ever clarion-tongued; of his youth; now he was losing it. And but the parson went forward boldly. he was sad He was ill, too, with a A “change” had come to himself, and touch of melancholy that oppressed he knew it. him now and then; and some one rec- Down on the shore the men ommended the sea. The parson was launching the lifeboat and asking for still poor, but the sea was near, and volunteers; and the parson went would not prove a costly holiday. So amongst them. He looked strong; he thither he went.

took up an oar as if he loved it, and the The sea is not enlivening in dull captain put his hand on his arm: weather. There is a moan that fills the “Man, I dinna ken ye; can ye row?" ears and is haunted by the cries of the “Ay. Many a time have I rowed . lored and the lost, who are borne away straight home to victory.” into the Silent Land upon the breast They were shouting in one another's of the hurricane, or swifter chariot of ears; but the wind was strong. There sudden death.

was a firm grip of hands.

It was a And the parson listened to the voices sign of the Brotherhood of Rescuers. until his heart grew heavy within him, What the captain wanted was just one and his hopefulness went down with a who could row "straight home to vicwail of agony.

tory.” “Instead of feeling better, I am a Who shall tell the story of that shipgreat deal worse,” he said despair- wreck? ingly. “I must go back to-morrow." Who can paint the picture of that

That night there was a storm; wild rescue? and tumultuous waves

Not until the lifeboat had ended its sweep the piers and thunder at the foot perilous work did the men on board her of the cliff. Sleep was impossible, and realize that their captain had allowed the parson went out into the war; it a "sky-pilot” to take a hand at the oars. almost did him good to struggle with They had never before believed in any, the wind, and fight for his footing with sort of luck for a craft that carried a the force of the fierce gale. Once he "sky-pilot” in it. And as for the lifelaughed aloud at himself. His old boat- Well, it was over now, and nerve came back, his head grew firm, the peril was past. The parson stood bis eye became bright.

in the rear, the captain in the foreHe could even think of Irene with a ground grasped the hand of a man momentary throb of passionate vigor. whom he led unresistingly towards his He was triumphing over himself and new comrade. over his pain.

“Thank ’im-he made it possible to Suddenly there shot up a light out of go to your relief,” rang out the cheery the weird darkness of the ocean-a tones of the captain's voice, making long trail of wild blue light, that itself heard above the storm. “Thank flashed into the air, and then died. It 'im.” And then-only then–did the

a mute appeal, and the parson parson raise his eyes. knew it.

"Mr. Farrant,” he said slowly, “I recOne or two women near began to ognized you in the boat.” pray.

They understood the signal; The other man stared. they knew that, out on the sea, buman “It's th' parson,” he cried aloud. “Th' bearts were having a hand-to-hand parson as wanted ter marry Irene, an' fight with Death. They prayed aloud. wha buried th' Remains. Us wur rude


up to


ter ye, sir; an' ye-ye've saved us- to confirm this opinion. It was only to me!”

be expected that in the course of three Behind them was the sea, that hac or more generations the African tradiso nearly become Thomas Farrant's tions handed down by the slaves should grave.

Between them was a deep have acquired, among American surdarkness, only broken by the red glare roundings, a great amount of local of hastily improvised torches.

color, especially when we remember And the parson lingered behind, how strong and vivid in primitive races while Thomas Farrant peered at him is the realizing imagination which enthrough the dimness. This man had ables the narrator to describe the events taken Irene from him, and had covered of his story in terms of things familiar him with insults.

to himself. Yet he had helped to save him. The But it seems unnecessary to infer, as parson was mute beneath the power of some have done, that the animal myths diviner inspiration.

He waited-he of the Amazon and other Indians which knew not why. At last Thomas Far- present points of resemblance to the rant broke the silence.

Remus" stories must have been im"Coom bame wi' us, mon,” he said, ported by African slaves. As Mr. Anmore gently. "Ye've saved us. Ye drew Lang has so ably pointed out in shall ha' yer rewaird. There's ane 'at "Myth, Ritual, and Religion," and elsekin thank ye mair nor I. Our hame's where, the human intellect at a certain heer. Did ye no 'ken it? Ay, an' th'

primitive stage is apt to reach much lass is waitin'."

the same conclusions, all the world And the parson went-for his reward. over, and to embody them in tales

"I've bin nigh onto death,” said the which have a striking similarity to each old man to his niece. “Us hev comed other. One of the characteristics of this thro' a deal; an', lass, us is fair van- state of mind is a readiness to “regard quished noo. Th’ pairson kin read, an' all things as on one level of personal life he kin pray; but, ma certes, he's got- and intelligence." Uncle Remus's Brer ten a rare grip o' his ain, an' a han, Rabbit and Brer Terrapin are quite forbye, that's as saft as selk. I doot human in their feelings, motives, and ye canna do better."

mental capacity, and frequently perAnd this was the love-making of the form acts suggestive of the narrator's parson and Irene.

having forgotten for the moment that First, the shadow of death—the paiu they are not men. This trait comes out of grief-then the song of the lark. very strikingly in the stories of which I

Again, a bitterness akin to death-a am about to give a few specimens. great soul-hunger-the war of the ele

It was my fortune to spend a good ments.

many months of the years 1893 and 1894 And then-Irene-peace!

in that part of East Central Africa now known as the British Protectorate. During this time I acquired sufficient of the Mang'anja (or Chinyanja) language

to converse with a certain amount of From The Contomporary Review.

facility, and made some attempts at AFRICAN FOLK-LORE,

collecting the traditional tales of the If ethnologists should discover," natives. Had I been able to make a says Mr. Joel Chandler Harris in his longer stay, the result would have been introduction to “Uncle Remus," "that more satisfactory; as it was, I never these myth-stories did not originate succeeded in getting any stories from with the African, the proof to that effect the old men and women, who are the should be accompanied with a good accredited authorities. I wrote down a deal of persuasive eloquence."

fair number from the recitation of boys All that is known of original folk-tales and girls, who could not be expected to collected on the African continent tends 1 Myth, Ritual, and Religion, vol. i., p. 33.

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know them so well as their elders, and Perhaps the tendency to personify who, I suspect, in many cases have given inanimate objects is exemplified in a very incomplete and fragmentary ver- remark of the headman at Matope's sions. It may even have happened village on Ndirande (not to be conthat, in their eagerness to supply the founded with Matope on the Shire, Donna's demand for stories, they made where you get ferried across into them up as they went along-as some Angoniland). I was sketching there of the Zulus are said to have done for one day, and Matope (this was his the late Bishop Callaway. But if so- official designation-I don't know his and I hardly think it is the case—their personal name) looked on with interest. invention ran very much on the lines of There was a curious white granite rock, received tradition,

standing out like an obelisk on the preMany of these stories deal exclusively cipitous side of the mountain. I queswith animals; all proceed on the as- tioned him concerning it, thinking it sumption that animals, human beings, might have a name and legend, but all and inanimate objects feel and act in I could arrive at (after some profound ruch the same manner. Rabbits, tor- reflection on his part) was this: “It has toises, elephants, and others, hoe their a bad heart, therefore it stands by itgardens, cook their food in clay pots over self. The other stones—those that are the fire, and sleep on mpasas just like all joined together, and make up the the relations and neighbors of the tale- mountain-they have good hearts.” In teller. Baskets, calabashes, and the short, the white stone was (from a like are endowed with volition and mo- Socialist point of view) an arrant Indition whenever convenient. In

vidualist! myth-fragment we see the sun and the The first story I am about to give was rain figuring as personalities. Another dictated to me by a boy at Blantyre point to be noticed is the frequency and Mission, who was, I believe, a Yao, facility with which metamorphoses though he spoke Mang'anja very well. take place. “The savage,” says Mr. It will be seen that it well sustains Lang, "is he who ... drawing no hard- "Brer Tarrypin's" character for saand-fast line between himself and the gacity, though not otherwise exhibiting things in the world, is readily persuaded him in an amiable light. In fact, he that men may be metamorphosed into shows a degree of cold blooded vindicplants, beasts, and stars.” The inhabi- tiveness which is truly fiendish. There tants of the Shire and Nyasa regions is something of Shylock about him. I bave by no means outgrown the state had some little difficulty in making of mind which holds such transforma- sense of one or two parts, and am by no tions possible and normal, Sandula, “to means sure that my version is correct, transform,” and its passive, sanduka, but such as it is, I give it:are words frequently on their lips even

Now the tortoise made friendship with in daily life. Of this I remember rather the ng'anzi [iguana), and the tortoise an amusing instance at Blantyre Mis- went to (get) salt, and his friend gave him sion. A girl in the service of a mission, some salt, and the tortoise said, "How ary's wife was several times called by shall I carry my salt, friend?” “Go and her mistress to come and take the baby, look for luzi [bark), twist string, and tie and at first returned no answer. On up your salt.”1 And he tied up his salt and the third or fourth call of “Nchafuleni!" went on his way (and said), “Friend, à voice (her own) was heard from the good-bye.” And he put (the bundle) under back regions: “Nchafuleni is not there his arm, and tied it round his neck and

as he walked and walked along, the (bunshe is turned into a frog!” (a sanduko

dle of) salt slipped round to his back, rollchule). Such a joke, of course, would ing over and over;" and the ng'anzi came scarcely-unless, indeed, by way of

1 I.e., in a bark-cloth wrapper, or bag, like the literary allusion-occur to a civilized

oads of native salt brought down by the Shirwa mind unaccustomed to regard such

ulendos. changes as possible.

? Or, “wobbling up and down"_in the original,

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up behind him, and took hold of the “My salt is wasted." And the tortoise bundle, and the tortoise walked along, went away and wept (saying) that “My jiggety-jig (njutu !]; and he turned round, salt is wasted.” And the tortoise went on Let me see what has taken hold of my to his village, and entered into his house; salt!" And he found that the ng'anzi had and he grumbled, “They have robbed me taken hold of the bundle by the middle; of my salt;" and he brought (the empty ?) and he said, “Do not seize my salt-I have parcel on his arm, and his wife asked, brought it from my friend's.” And the “Where is the salt gone to?" And he said, ng'anzi said, “I picked it up" (on the road); “The ng'anzi robbed me on the road; (but) and he insisted very strongly that he to-morrow I will go to my friend, and I picked it up. And the tortoise said, “You will tell him that they robbed me of that see the string passing round my neck. We salt.” And he started on the road, and tied it-I, the tortoise, am its owner;" and came to his friend and said, “My friend, the ng'anzi said, “Let us go to the smithy, they have robbed me of that salt on the that the elders may judge between road, and I have come to say that it was

And they went to the smithy, the ng'anzi who robbed me of it." The and they found (there) eight elders. The tortoise slept four days at his friend's, and ng'anzi said, “I have a mlanduo with the on the fifth he returned. He found the tortoise.”

The elders answered, “Con- ng'anzi, he entered his hole; he was eating cerning what is this case of yours with winged white ants. And the tortoise came which you have come hither to us?' And up, walking very softly, and looked carethe ng'anzi said, “I picked up some salt, fully, and saw the ng'anzi. And he seized and the tortoise keeps on saying 'It is the ng'anzi by the middle; and the ng'anzi mine,' and so I said, 'Let us go to the said, “Who has taken hold of me by the smithy, that the elders may judge us.'” middle? I myself am eating white ants." And the elders said, "It is good (for you) to

And the tortoise said, “I have picked (you) come with your disputes to us, the elders;" up-1, too, have picked (you) up; the other and they said, "How did he pick up the day you picked up my salt, and to-day I salt of the tortoise?” And the tortoise have picked you up by your head and your said, “Through my being short as to the legs" (?). And the tortoise said, “Let us legs; and I tied my salt to my neck, and it go to the smithy, as we did the other day." slipped round to my back . . and I, the And the ng'anzi said, "Are you detortoise, turned back to see what was tak- termined ?" (lit. strong, and the toring hold of my salt. And my companion, toise said "Yes;" and the ng'anzi the ng'anzi, said, 'Let us go to the smithy,' came out of his hole, and they went and we have come here." And the to the smithy, and they found (there) ng'anzi said, “Let us cut the (bundle of) salt nine elders, and they heard (i.e., the in half,” and the tortoise said, “It is my elders said), “Why do you seize the salt;" and the ng'anzi said “Yes," and the ng'anzi by the middle? Do you call (us) tortoise said, "Perhaps I have done wrong again for the second time to-day?" And the in walking on the path alone, and you have tortoise said, “My companion ate my salt brought me to your (own) brothers, and the other day, and I also have (therefore) they say thus, that 'you are to cut the salt picked him up by the tail and two legs." in half,' and I answer 'Cut it.'” And they They said, “Do you want to do what you divided the salt, and the ng'anzi got a did the other day?-you cut the salt in great deal of it, and the owner, the tor half.” And the tortoise said “Ha! ha! ha! toise, had a very little, because his claws ha!-it is good thus," and he rejoiced with were short, and he was not able to take his whole heart; and the ng'anzi said, hold of it and tie it up. And the elders “You are determined (lit. you have picked up (and kept for themselves) what become strong) that you will kill me!" had fallen down in the dirt; and the tor And the tortoise said, “You killed my salt toise went way and wept (saying) that the other day-I also do thus—the same

thing that you did to my salt.” The gubudu gubuduone of the curious interjectional ng'anzi said, “Ha! it is all over with me onomatopeas which abound both in Mang'anja and Yao.

you want to cut me in half-good! That 1 The usual rendezvous of the men in any

which you want to do, do! I am done for village, where they gossip and smoke.

-I, the ng'anzi!". The tortoise sprang up ? Quarrel or lawsuit.

-tu! and took a knife and cut the ng'anzi



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in half; and the ng'anzi cried out, saying, years as a teacher and evangelist, and "Mother! mother! mother!-I am dead is now in charge of the out-station at to-day through the picking up!" And the Mount Mlanje. He is a Yao, from a viltortoise took the tail and two legs, and lage on the mission land at Blantyre, went on his way, and came to his wife and but almost equally proficient in both said, “We have bought (this) with that languages. Perhaps his school training salt of mine (which) the ng'anzi ate, and I helped him; at any rate, his story is to-day have eaten the ng'anzi, and he is dead.” And here ends the story of the

more clearly and coherently told than

those obtained from other sources. I Ng'anzi and the Tortoise.

also found that he was sometimes able Usually the closing formula is less to assist me by piecing out the imperelaborate: “It ended here—I na tera (or fect versions of the younger boys:i na fera) pompo," or simply “Ya ta-it is finished.”

There was once a rabbit and a dzimue, Whether this tale really belongs to the and the one said to the other, “Man!? (sic) Mang'anja or Yaos I cannot tell. I come, let us go and seek for food.” And have, indeed, seen a Yao version in print they came to a village and said, “We want (in the little native paper Kalilole, to work” [lit, hoe] "for food.” And the issued by the Mission), but, so far as owner of the village said, “Very good," my knowledge of that language enabled and he gave them to hoe in his garden, and me to understand it, it seemed to me to

gave them beans, that they might eat differ considerably from the one just there in the garden; : and they went to given. The two tribes are very much the garden, and cooked the beans. When mixed up together in the neighborhood they had finished hoeing the beans were

cooked, and the dzimwe said, “I am going of Blantyre, and many individuals are

to the water to wash myself; do you look bilinguists, so that the legends of one

well after the beans-we will eat when I may easily be handed on to the other, return from the water.” And the dzimwe and it becomes difficult, if not impossi- (went to the water and) took off his skin, ble, to determine their provenance.

and ran, and came (back) to where the The next story I shall give has our old rabbit was. And when the rabbit saw friend Brer Rabbit for its hero. He is him, he feared (thinking) that he was called by the Mang’anja kalulu, and by some monster, and ran away. And the the Yaos sungulawhich some trans- dzimwe ate up the beans, and went back lators, mindful of Æsop, and desirous again to the water. And he put on his of preserving consistency in the eyes of skin, and returned and said, "Hast thou European readers, choose to render taken off the beans ?” And the rabbit "fox." The kalulu is frequently met said, “No, thou man" [mwamna iwe]; with in the bush near Blantyre, but, “there came hither a monstrous beast, a being rather larger than our English those beans." And the dzimwe said, “No,

terrible one, and I ran away, and it ate rabbit, and solitary instead of grega- thou hast cheated me—thou hast eaten rious in his way of life, he ought, per- those beans thyself—it was not a wild haps, to be called a hare.

As to the beast-no!” And the next day they came dzimue, I have never succeeded in

once more to hoe, and cooked their beans. establishing his identity. Some call And when the beans began to boil, the bim an ant-eater, and some an elephant; dzimwe said ..." but the most satisfactory I ever heard was: “He is nothing at all—he is just Here follows an almost exact repetition a story.” So I conclude that he is a kind of what has gone before, which we of bogy beast, unknown to science, and need not reproduce. After the rabbit leave his name untranslated. This has once more explained the loss of the story of “The Kalulu and the Dzimwe" beans, the dzimwe replies:was told me by Harry Kambwiri, a

9 "Mwamna" (=vir, not homo, which last is native deacon of the Church of Scotland muntu) is a very common form of address between Mission, who has worked for some

natives—even small boys.

8 The cultivated land is often at a considerable 1 "Mai!” a common exclamation,

distance from the village.

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