their reports not to tell you how the country they resided in was,
but how it was getting on towards being what it ought to be, and how
necessary it was that their readers should subscribe more freely,
and not get any foolishness into their heads about obtaining an
inadequate supply of souls for their money. I also found fearful
confirmation of my medical friends' statements about its
unhealthiness, and various details of the distribution of cotton
shirts over which I did not linger.

From the missionaries it was, however, that I got my first idea
about the social condition of West Africa. I gathered that there
existed there, firstly the native human beings--the raw material, as
it were--and that these were led either to good or bad respectively
by the missionary and the trader. There were also the Government
representatives, whose chief business it was to strengthen and
consolidate the missionary's work, a function they carried on but
indifferently well. But as for those traders! well, I put them down
under the dangers of West Africa at once. Subsequently I came
across the good old Coast yarn of how, when a trader from that
region went thence, it goes without saying where, the Fallen Angel
without a moment's hesitation vacated the infernal throne (Milton)
in his favour. This, I beg to note, is the marine form of the
legend. When it occurs terrestrially the trader becomes a Liverpool
mate. But of course no one need believe it either way--it is not a
missionary's story.

Naturally, while my higher intelligence was taken up with attending
to these statements, my mind got set on going, and I had to go.
Fortunately I could number among my acquaintances one individual who
had lived on the Coast for seven years. Not, it is true, on that