dark vegetable wall, here and there broken and fronted by single
trees, white mangroves tightly corded down, and raised on stilted
roots high above the tide. Between wood and wave lay powdered
sandstone of lively yellow, mixed with bright white quartz and
debris of pink shells. Upon the classic shores of Greece I should
have thought of Poseidon and the Nereids; but the lovely scene
was in unromantic Africa, which breeds no such visions of

"The fair humanities of old religion."

Resuming our road, we passed the ruins of an "Olako," the khambi
of East Africa, a temporary encampment, whose few poles were
still standing under a shady tree. We then came upon a blockaded
lagoon; the sea-water had been imprisoned by a high bank which
the waves had washed up, and it will presently be released by
storms from the south-west. Near the water, even at half-ebb, we
find the floor firm and pleasant; it becomes loose walking at
high tide, and the ribbed banks are fatiguing to ascend and
descend under a hot sun and in reeking air. A seine would have
supplied a man-of-war in a few hours; large turtle is often
turned; in places young ones about the size of a dollar scuttled
towards the sea, and Hotaloya brought a nest of eggs, which,
however, were too high in flavour for the European palate. The
host of crabs lining the water stood alert, watching our
approach, and when we came within a hundred yards they hurried
sideways into the safer sea--the scene reminded me of the days
when, after "tiffin," we used to "mar kankras" on the Clifton
Sands in the Unhappy Valley.

Presently we came to a remarkable feature of this coast, the