On August 1st at sunset we reach Irebu, an exceedingly beautiful place.
An avenue of palms stretches parallel to the river and about twenty
yards from it the bank itself being fenced by white wooden rails. This
leads to a large open square around which are the brick houses of the
European officers. Beyond, along the river front, are more brick houses,
the Mess and the Magazines, and gardens are laid out the whole length of
the town. This is one of the large military training centres, where
about a dozen officers prepare more than a thousand recruits for the
Force Publique.

In the evening the place was illuminated by very simple, but effective,
means. Stakes were driven into the ground and on each was placed a tin
which presumably had contained condensed milk. These were filled with
palm oil and pieces of wood to serve as wicks. The mosquitoes here are
very bad indeed and it is necessary to take quinine every day to
counteract the effects of their poison.

At daybreak next morning most of the troops were exercising in the
square and their precision and manoeuvring were really marvellous. Any
European colonel might indeed be proud to hear such a single click as
his regiment shouldered arms. The officers state that the natives attend
very carefully all the time for the word of command and act very quickly
after it is given. The native corporals evidently make good instructors
and the raw recruit is soon converted into a smart and responsible
soldier. This military education is certainly the best that could be
given to a savage; it teaches him punctuality, regularity, obedience and
collective responsibility; it shows him how to build houses and keep
them clean and it gives him an idea of justice for he knows he will be
punished for wrong doing. The soldier therefore soon becomes an
altogether different person and realises that he is no longer an