levee took place in the verandah of a poor bamboo hut, one of the
dozen which compose his capital. Seated in a chair and ready for
business, he was surrounded by a crowd of courtiers, who listened
attentively to every word, especially when he affected to
whisper; and some pretty women collected to peep round the
corners at the Utangani (white man). [FN#4]

Mr. Wilson described Roi Denis in 1856 as a man of middle
stature, with compact frame and well-made, of great muscular
power, about sixty years old, very black by contrast with the
snow-white beard veiling his brown face. "He has a mild and
expressive eye, a gentle and persuasive voice, equally affable
and dignified; and, taken altogether, he is one of the most king-
like looking men I have ever met in Africa," says the reverend
gentleman. The account reminded me of Kimwere the Lion of
Usumbara, drawn by Dr. Krapf. Perhaps six years had exercised a
degeneratory effect upon Roi Denis, or perchance I have more
realism than sentiment; my eyes could see nothing but a petit
vieux vieux, nearer sixty than seventy, with a dark, wrinkled
face, and an uncommonly crafty eye, one of those African organs
which is always occupied in "taking your measure" not for your
good.

I read out the introductory letter from Baron Didelot--the king
speaks a little French and English, but of course his education
ends there. After listening to my projects and to my offers of
dollars, liquor, and cloth, Roi Denis replied, with due gravity,
that his chasseurs were all in the plantations, but that for a
somewhat increased consideration he would attach to my service
his own son Ogodembe, alias Paul. It was sometime before I found