gallons; they are strung, after the Kru fashion, behind the back
by a band passing across the forehead. When we meet them they
gently say "Mbolo!" (good morning), or "Oresa" (are you well)? At
this hour, however, all are not so civil, the seniors are often
uncommonly cross and surly, and the mollia tempora fandi may not
set in till after the first meal--I have seen something of the
kind in England. The sex, impolitely said to have one fibre more
in the heart and one cell less in the brain, often engages in a
violent wordy war; the tornado of wrath will presently pass over,
and leave clear weather for the day. In the evening, when the
electric fluid again gathers heavily, there will be another
storm. Meanwhile, superintended by the mistress, all are occupied
with the important duty of preparing the morning meal. It is
surprising how skilful are these heaven-born cooks; the excellent
dishes they make out of "half-nothing." I preferred the cuisine
of Forteune's wives to that of the Plateau, and, after finding
that money was current in the village, I never failed to secure
their good offices.

The Mpongwe breakfast is eaten by the women in their respective
verandahs, with their children and friends; the men also gather
together, and prefer the open air. This feed would not only
astonish those who talk about a "free breakfast-table," with its
silly slops and bread-stuffs; it would satisfy a sharp-set
Highlander. In addition to yams and sweet potatoes, plantains,
and perhaps rice, there will be cooked mangrove-oysters fresh
from the tree, a fry, or an excellent bouillabaisse of fish;
succulent palaver sauce, or palm-oil chop; poultry and meat. The
domestic fowl is a favourite; but, curious to say, neither here
nor in any part of tropical Africa known to me have the people