masses of the prickly pear cactus. And while their ashes rest in peace
under the shadow of the Memorial Church, and the grass is green upon
their grave, myriads of scarlet flowers bloom above the rocks once
stained with their blood, and cover them with a mantle of beauty fresh
from the hand of God.

                              CHAPTER VI.

                 THE LAND AND THE PEOPLE OF MADAGASCAR.

The East Coast of the Island—The West Coast—Travels of M.
    Grandidier—Maps of Madagascar—Mr. Cameron’s Survey—Additions made by
    us—Size of Madagascar—The Mountain-mass along its centre—Terraces on
    all sides—The Malagasy people a single race—Their Three Tribes and
    their Sub-divisions—The Malagasy not an African race—Their Malay
    origin—Evidence supplied by their Language—New Words from Arabic,
    French and English—Reference to Madagascar by Marco Paolo—Early
    Navigation of the Eastern Seas very extensive—Phœnician, Hindu,
    Chinese and Malay—Madagascar colonised by Malays—Three independent
    Movements—Traditions of the Hovas—Their Arrival in Imerina—Conquest
    of the Vazimba—Increase in Imerina—Their recent History—Ralambo and
    his Descendants—Impóin and his consolidation of the
    Kingdom—Radáma—State of the Country, of Social Life and of the
    Sakalava Tribes in his day—The people still a federation of
    tribes—Their Institutions—Their steady growth in Civilisation, as
    well as in Religious Character.

                              CHAPTER VI.

                 THE LAND AND THE PEOPLE OF MADAGASCAR.

COMPARATIVELY little has hitherto been written on the geography of
Madagascar. French travellers and English officers, as well as
missionaries, have landed on the east coast and have journeyed up to the
Capital: and the character of the country along their route has been
fully and frequently described. The eastern coast of the island has
hitherto been better known to us than any other portion. The splendid
Bay of Diego Suarez; the wooded promontory on the east of Antongil Bay;
the colony of Benyowsky and the Isle of Ste. Marie; Foule Point and
Tamatave; the lake of Nósibé and the lagoons which follow it;
Andevoranto and Máhanóro and Mánanzára; the limestone cliffs of Anósy,
the rich vale of Ambólo, and the settlement of Port Dauphin; these are
the points referred to by successive writers from Flacourt downwards:
and all that needs to be said about them will be found carefully
compiled in Ellis’s History of Madagascar, written nearly forty years
ago.

Of the western part of Madagascar we know very little; though from the
breadth and richness of its provinces we should like to know a great
deal. Mr. Boothby in the time of Charles I. and Drury, in the days of
Queen Anne, give us information respecting St. Augustine’s Bay. Captain
Owen and the officers of the English navy, who in 1824 laid down so much
of the coast line, have dwelt upon the great harbours of the north-west.
To M. Guillain we are indebted for information respecting the same
quarter, the island of Nosibé, the Hova settlements near Pasandava Bay,
the town and port of Mojangá, and the Sákaláva districts as far as
Morondáva; and we owe much to Mr. Lyons Macleod, formerly Consul at
Mozambique, and still more to Mr. Ellis’s History, for giving us a
summary of this information. During his visits to the island, Mr. Ellis
scarcely touched the question of its geography; he took no observations
and prepared no maps: though to the botany of the island and to the
facts connected with the moral condition of the people he added greatly.

The traveller who has seen most of Madagascar previous to our visit is
M. Grandidier. This gentleman spent several years in the island between
1865 and 1870; and devoted much time and strength to the examination of
several of its districts. He lived for a considerable time on the
north-east and the west coasts: he travelled up from Mojangá to the
Capital; crossed the island through the Betsileo province; and visited
the almost unknown district of the Sihánaka tribe. His observations have
not yet been given to the world; he has read to the Geographical Society
of Paris, and has published, a sketch of his travels; and has published
a general map of the island on a moderate scale, far more correct than
anything which has preceded it. But the geographical world yet waits for
the complete story, which he promises them in ten or twelve volumes. He
was well known to our missionaries and respected by them.

All recent maps of Madagascar (except Grandidier’s) are traceable to two
sources. The coast line was laid down by Capt. Owen and his companions
in 1824. The detail of the interior is derived from the map of Colonel
Lloyd, published in 1849 by Mr. Arrowsmith: and Colonel Lloyd’s memoir
on the geography of the island will be found in vol. xx. of the Royal
Geographical Society’s Journal. In regard to this map Colonel Lloyd
says: “The coast line may be depended on as tolerably exact, having been
reduced from the various nautical surveys. For the detail of the
interior I cannot claim the slightest pretensions to correctness. It is
only an attempt to form approximately some foundation for future
inquiries, and more correct and extensive research.” Notwithstanding
this frank disclaimer, editors and writers have gone on copying this map
down to the present time.

In this important matter I have felt personally interested for several
years. Anxious at one time to provide for the Directors a good map of
the interior, we found that exact details were wanting. We knew the
names of prominent mountains, rivers and stations, but where to place
them no one could say. The Directors then applied to our missionaries in
the island: and several excellent journals and sketch maps were
communicated in reply. The principal contribution to our effort was
this. Mr. Cameron the senior member of the mission, after carefully
fixing the position of Antanánarivo, commenced a triangulation of the
plain of Imerina: and step by step prepared a most valuable map of those
portions of the province contiguous to the capital: the defect of the
map was, that though it indicated the chief positions, it did not
exhibit the form and height of the ground.

Aware that part of our duty would require us to visit the whole of the
central portions of the island, my colleague and I prepared to take
advantage of our opportunities and add something at least to the
knowledge of these provinces possessed by the geographical world. We
carried out our purpose under the happiest auspices. We were everywhere
received as friends. We invariably informed the Prime Minister of our
movements and proceedings; we were at liberty to go where we liked, and
we experienced nothing but hospitality and kindness. By special
permission we photographed the Queen’s Palace and the Royal tombs; we
planted our theodolite, compass and tripods on the tops of hills and in
the open markets; and we let every one know that we were anxious to make
a correct map of the country for their use as well as ours.

In the first instance we worked on Mr. Cameron’s lines. We went over a
great portion of his work; revised it from our own observations; and
extended it in all directions. To the north-west we laid down Vonizongo
as far as the population extends. West and south-west we carried the
survey to Ambohiveloma; over all Imamo, to Lake Itásy and the districts
of Mándridráno and Menabé. Thence we passed it through Betáfo and
Sirabé: enclosed the Ankárat mountains within it and measured their
height. With Mr. Cameron himself, as I have already shown, we continued
the survey down the Betsileo Province to its southern end. Eastward we
laid down Angávo, the moors of Ambátoména, the plain of Ankay, and the
Sihánaka Lakes. And finally by a route lying west of that taken by M.
Grandidier, we went down to the sea at Mojangá. The work proved most
enjoyable. We followed up the country step by step, greatly aided by the
numerous conspicuous hills, with whose names and appearance we soon grew
perfectly familiar. The MAP which accompanies this little volume is one
result of our work: and the red lines which mark our routes upon it will
show how fully we traversed the country and how much of it we saw with
our own eyes.

Much of the information acquired in our journeys will be found in the
several chapters which describe them, and which the various sections of
the map are intended to illustrate. It will suffice therefore here to
indicate the general structure and character of the island. The
navy-surveys show that the island of MADAGASCAR has a length of 818
geographical miles, measuring from Cape Ambro on the north to Cape St.
Mary’s on the south. The position of the former is in lat. 12° 2′ S.:
that of the latter is lat. 25° 40′ S. The greatest breadth of the island
from Cape St. Andrew to Tamatave is 354 miles: the longitudes of these
two points being, long. 44° 30′ E. and long. 49° 28′ 30″ E.
respectively. These longitudes have been fixed by reference to the
Observatory in Cape Town. The island is a long oval, pointed at the
northern end; and its major axis lies in the direction of N. 16° E.
While a crevasse and channel of great depth separate it from the
continent of Africa, the Farquhar Islands, at its north end, the
Séchelles with their red clay, and the coral reefs in the Indian Ocean
seem to me to connect its granite hills with the Laccadive and Maldive
Islands and with the mighty forces which in Southern India threw into
their present position the Nilgiri and Kunda hills. The island was
probably the noblest portion of some great continent which stretched
away from Hindustan to the south-west; and which shared in the tropical
flora and fauna of India in an early stage of the earth’s history, and
was separated from it while both were still young.

The chief physical feature of Madagascar is the central mountain mass,
which commences with lofty mountains at the north end of the island, and
retains them till within a moderate distance of its southern cape. The
entire central line is high ground and only its two sides are level
plains along the east and west sea-coasts. The central mass is by no
means uniform in its appearance. We have already shown how, on ascending
to the interior from the east coast, the traveller meets and
successively mounts three lofty mountain walls, each supporting a broad
terrace behind it. The first of these, west of Ampásimbé, rises 900
feet: beyond Befórona, the second terrace is 1400 feet higher: the third
ascent at Angávo carried us up 1620 feet on to the highest part of the
Imerina plain. The central plateau has a general height of 4000 feet: at
its widest part it is ninety miles in width; in the narrowest it is
about thirty miles. This plateau is somewhat over two hundred
geographical miles in length. It abounds in ridges and detached hills of
gneiss and granite, which give wonderful variety to the scenery; and at
several points these rocks spread out in wide, lofty and barren moors.
The rugged ridges enclose broad basins of the sedimentary clay, and the
numerous streams of pure water furnish abundant sustenance for the rice
crops, which form the principal food of the people. As this central
level is reached by great terraces from the east, so on the north, south
and west, the traveller descends from it on to other terraces, going
gradually lower and lower, until he reaches the level of the sea. It was
a matter of deep interest to Mr. Pillans and myself that we descended on
to the first terrace at several points; at Ambohimandroso, beyond Lake
Itasy, and in the valley of Ankay, before we finally followed down the
entire series of steps on our way to Mojangá. The fact that to so large
an extent the island consists of red clay, and appears to have been at
some time perfectly buried in it, accounts for the peculiar form of its
terraces and of the basins which they sustain. The enormous volcanic
forces hereafter to be described may have been required to break the
granite rocks and render them available for the use of men: but water
has exerted a mighty agency likewise on the island: and whether by rains
or streams or waterspouts, in the bursting of lakes or by gentle
showers, during long, long ages it has been ploughing and moulding and
shaping the land, and it is moulding and shaping and beautifying it
still.

The Malagasy people who inhabit the island appear to be a single race,
notwithstanding some tradition about “dwarfs.” Nowhere do we find any
tribe or clan or race in any secluded corner of the land, (such as we
meet with in the hill districts of India, of Sumatra and Borneo),
totally different from the inhabitants of the plains or open provinces.
Nor do we meet with any portion of the people specially degraded below
their fellows as a conquered and despised race. So far as known the
people of the entire island are in most respects similar to one another;
and sixty years ago they stood more on a common level than they do now.
The main differences at present existing between one portion and another
are the result of Christian education and of compact, just and settled
government.

There is undoubtedly one distinction which may be drawn among the
Malagasy; they may be divided into the dark and fair tribes. From the
first writers on Madagascar have referred to this difference between
them. But in the face of important points of agreement I think too much
has been made of it. It is well known to residents in India, that low,
hot, saline and malarious districts tend to darken the olive complexion;
while dry, open, cooler plains, tend to bleach it and render it fair.
Now it is the coast tribes of Madagascar, inhabiting the hot, feverish
provinces, which have the dark skin: while those which occupy the
central plateau with its bracing air, are, in general, fair. Other
considerations must be looked to: and I find them in the dialects
spoken; and in the course taken by the movements and migration of the
tribes as they gradually occupied the island. In regard to these matters
several mistakes have been made by various writers.

Judging from the movements of the tribes and from their present
relations to one another, it seems to me that the Malagasy are divided
into three tribes, starting from different centres, and inhabiting
separate districts. The BETSIMISARAKA tribe and its offshoots occupy the
east coast and its two lower terraces. The SAKALAVAS hold the broad
plains of the west coast in all its length, and overlap the upper
extremity of the north-east coast. The HOVAS and their branches inhabit
the entire central plateau, and the flanks of its southern extremity.

The Betsimisárakas include the Sihánakas, the people of Ankáy, and (I
think also) the Tanálas, all on the higher terrace between the lines of
forest. These upper divisions of the tribe have separate names; but they
are merely expressive of the localities to which the people have
migrated. The Betániménas are those who occupy the “districts of red
clay.” The Tanálas are the people of “the forest districts.” The Tankays
live “in Ankay,” the “open land”; not concealed by or broken by long
hills. The Sihánakas are (as we shall see) “the people of the lakes.” In
no part of the country occupied by this tribe is the population
concentrated and numerous: all their districts are thinly peopled.
Important mistakes have been made in regard to these subdivisions. Both
the Sihánakas and the Bezánozáno of Ankay have been described as
Sákalávas. But a visit to the districts which they inhabit shows at once
that with the Sakalavas they have nothing to do. They are shut off from
the latter by all but impassable mountains. They are Betsimisárakas in
their houses, their dialects, and the dressing of their hair: and an
examination of the country plainly indicates the points on the east
coast, from which their people started. In regard to the still greater
error of regarding the entire Betsimisáraka people as half-breed Arabs,
there is even less to be said. The statement must have originated in
some mistake. It might apply to a few people in and around the Arab
colony of St. Mary’s; but it is wholly inapplicable to the entire people
of the east coast.

The Sákalávas are also divided into tribes: but there is little cohesion
amongst them; they live separate from one another, and have frequent
petty wars. Their numbers cannot be great, though they occupy a large
tract of rich tropical country, which under a settled government and in
diligent hands would yield vast quantities of produce. They have for
ages been at feud with their Hova neighbours, ever ready to carry off
their cattle and plunder their farmsteads and fields. The name they
bear, “the tall cats,” is a complimentary title given by their Hova
foes, who have found them as fierce and formidable with the ancient
weapons as any wild cat to be met with in the woods. The Sakalávas have
not been slow to return the compliment; and they contemptuously style
the Hovas _ambóalámbo_, a mixture of the dog and the boar, “a set of
vagabonds.”

The HOVAS proper now occupy all the northern portion of the central
plateau, whether Vonizongo, Imámo or other districts. And though at one
time it was usual to describe their province as Ankova, in recent days
the tendency has been to drop this term altogether, and to call the
entire Hova country, IMERINA. The Betsileo tribe are without doubt of
the same blood as the Hovas. The Ibára tribe, who live south and west of
the Betsileo, are (as I have shown) kindred to the Betsileo. Each of
these sections of the central population has grown numerous, has had its
separate interests, and has been at feud with its fellows. Nevertheless
many similarities of language, dress, customs and manners exist between
them. And the differences are no greater than those which divide them
from the other tribes of the island. Politically these tribes are
drawing nearer to each other under Hova rule; and these similarities
will be increased and developed rather than repressed.

In the important inquiry whence the Malagasy have come and with what
other branches of the human race they are connected, the evidence
supplied by their language is of the first importance. Naturally it
might have been expected that living so near to the continent of Africa,
they would be connected with the African tribes; or at least that some
of their settlements would have been founded by African colonists. And
among scholars there have not been wanting those who have argued warmly
that they are substantially an African people. The views of the late Mr.
Crawford on this point are well known. He argued that the Malagasy are
substantially a negrillo race; with woolly hair, African blood and an
inability to form an alphabet: that Malay pirates, blown away from the
eastward, had mingled with them and left their mark upon the language;
and so on. He has been followed by Mr. Wake and others in recent days.

Even on theory it might have been objected that the African tribes are
not navigators, and that the Mozambique channel with its strong currents
and stronger south-east winds must have been, as it still is, a
formidable barrier against intercourse between these tribes and
Madagascar. But in point of fact there is no tribe on the island (so far
as it has yet been examined) which can be shown to be substantially
African, in its language, its features, its habits, its relations to its
neighbours. There are pure Africans in abundance (as we shall see)
scattered about in certain districts on the west, imported through the
Arab slave trade. And that African element has tainted the original
Malagasy race. But no original and distinct tribe on the island has yet
been pointed out as long settled African colonists: much less can the
entire Malagasy people be identified with such a tribe. On the contrary
the three great divisions of the Malagasy hold together; embrace almost
the entire island; and their language and tribal customs suggest a
totally different direction as to their origin.

In illustration of this unity of the races now occupying Madagascar, I
have noted with interest that the names given to localities in all parts
of the island, Sakaláva, Betsimisáraka and Hóva are of the same
character; and are plainly derived from the present Malagasy language.
Many of the Sakaláva names are distinctly Hóva. Off the north-west coast
we find Nosibe, “big island,” Nosikomba, “monkey island,” and Nosifály,
“glad island;” we have Ampásiména, “red sand village;” Mároláhy, “the
village of princes,” and Andránomaláza, “famous water.” We have
Márovoáy, with its “many crocodiles,” Mojangá “the restorer of health,”
and Mevatanána “good place for a town.” On the west coast we have
Máintiráno, “the black river,” Mafándráno, “hot springs,” and Mámiráno
“sweet waters.” We have one town, Mánandáza “the glorious,” and another,
Malaimbándy “the place of indolent lies.” We have Fierénana in Vonizongo
and on the Sakalava coast. We have the pass of Ambodifiakárana among the
limestone ridges of the Sakalavas, and under the granite moors on the
Mania. Hundreds of names are scattered over the east and west coasts,
bearing a striking similarity to those of the interior, and applied as
fittingly to the places which they indicate. The names and the people
are evidently one.

Baron Humboldt, the linguist, long since detected the Malay element in
their language. Other writers have followed him. And the more
attentively and completely the subject is examined the stronger will the
evidence of that origin appear. Unhappily such a complete examination
has not yet been made. Malay scholars have but partially understood
Malagasy: and Malagasy scholars have looked but little into Malay. And
we know scarcely more than was written by the Rev. J. J. Freeman, forty
years ago. Yet the materials are beginning to accumulate out of which
the comparison may be made in full detail. Besides Marsden’s Grammar and
Dictionary, in Crawford’s Malay Grammar, in Wallace’s Eastern
Archipelago, in the Appendix of Dr. Turner’s “Nineteen Years in
Polynesia,” there are lists of words and idioms in the Malay and its
cognate dialects, Samoan, Máori and Tahitian, available for the
discussion of the question: and ere long we may hope to see it
undertaken thoroughly. I have no pretensions to a knowledge of either
tongue. But it happens that during my visit to Madagascar unpublished
papers from competent men came into my hands, and I will venture to give
a few illustrations which they furnish of the connection between the two
languages. Mr. Freeman observes with interest that it is the
Betsimisáraka edition of Malagasy which comes nearest to the Malay; and
it is the Maláya branch of the language, rather than Javanese or Báli,
which comes closest to Malagasy. Here is a simple list of twenty words.

                 ENGLISH.   MALAY.     MALAGASY.
                 crocodile  buáya      voáya.[1]
                 bone       tulang     taolang. (Bets.
                 fly        lálat      lálitra.
                 fruit      búa        vóa.
                 ground     tánah      tány.
                 grow       támboh     mi-tombo.
                 hand       tángan     tángana. (Bets.
                 heaven     lángit     langitra. (Bets.
                 hang       gantong    mi-hantona.
                 fear       tákut      tahotra.
                 moon       bolan      vólana.
                 stone      bátu       váto.
                 year       tahun      táona.
                 spirits    túaka      tóaka.
                 mosquito   nya-mók    móka.
                 two        dúa        róa.
                 four       ámpat      éfat-ra.
                 six        ánam       énina.
                 ten        sa-puloh   folo.
                 twenty     dua-puloh  roa-polo.
                 thousand   sa-riba    arivo.

Footnote 1:

  The o in Malagasy is pronounced like the Italian u. This arrangement
  was a fatal mistake in the early writers of the language; and is
  calculated to mislead any one outside the island. Hova ought to have
  been written Húva.

In their structure and government the two languages resemble one
another: but the Malay seems a less formed and complete tongue than the
Malagasy. Both languages have the inclusive and exclusive pronouns: and
the same form is used in the nominative and objective cases. In both
reduplication is common. The prefixes through which the verb is
conjugated, though differing slightly in form, constantly bear the same
meaning in Malay as in Malagasy and are used in the same way. In both
cases the same sort of improvement was needed: and came from the same
source. The Arab traders gave to each people the names of the days of
the week and of the months of the year. The scales for weighing money
are Arabic, mizán. The word for writing, sóratra, seems Arabic also.

Additional improvement to the Malagasy came from their intercourse with
the French, who in the course of many years’ visits to the coasts of the
island, introduced new articles to their notice, which are still called
by their French names. At least seventy French words have become
naturalised in Malagasy and that in very curious fashion. The young
Malagasy now sits upon a _seza_, in front of _látábat-ra_; his rice is
brought from the _lákozy_, and he eats his beef with a _fórisét-y_. He
wipes his face with a _mósara_, washes his hands with _sávona_, and
dries them on a _sáriveta_. He keeps his clothes in a _lálamóra_
(armoire); rides forth on his _soavály_; and wears patent-leather
_bóty_.

The colonisation of Madagascar by the Malay tribes is a topic full of
interest: but we know almost nothing about it. It is singular that in
the very first mention made of the island, the celebrated notice of it
by Marco Paolo, he should have made a strange mistake and mixed it with
information which belongs to the Somali country around Cape Gardafui.
Madagascar has neither elephants nor hippopotami; neither leopards nor
bears nor lions. Nevertheless it is evident that the great traveller
learned something real about the island, and of that aspect of it which
was specially presented to the great sailors of his time, the Arab and
Persian traders, whose fathers had visited it for many ages. Sandal wood
is still exported from the northern ports; and the Hindus carry on “a
profitable trade.” I do not think that the people whom Fra Mauro speaks
of as blown away to the southward were connected with the original
settling of Madagascar by the Malays: the accident he describes seems to
me of much later date than that settlement; and that it happened to
Indian traders who were sailing down the African coast. When they were
blown back again, they may have seen shells of the Œpyornis, on the
sandy terrace at the south-east end of Madagascar, where M. Grandidier
found both shells and bones. Fra Mauro does not say that they saw the
living birds. Sindbad’s additions about the elephants and the jewels are
applications of “travellers’ tales” and traditions floating about the
nautical world long before his day.

That in early times there should have been a Malay immigration into
Madagascar is nothing strange. Every thing new which we are learning
about the Indian Ocean and the China Sea tends to show how boldly and
continuously those seas were traversed before the Christian era.
Phœnician navigation, both from the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf, was
ably carried out even in the time of Solomon; and the evidence is
accumulating that their colonies, trading settlements, and ports of call
were established along all the African and Indian coasts before the
Ptolemies had ceased to rule. They had long since learned the regularity
of the monsoons and decided how to employ them; Zanzibar and its
neigbourhood had become the head-quarters of the Central African trade;
and every year a great fleet crossed the Indian ocean from the ports of
Gujerat and Malabar with the north-east monsoon. What was a twenty days’
voyage before a fair and steady breeze, to men accustomed to the sea, in
large vessels of three hundred and eight hundred tons, such as the
Alexandrian corn ships or the buggalows of the Gulf of Cutch, with their
strong masts, long yard, and huge sails? To me it seems that they
mastered the navigation early: its continuity was never broken till
Albuquerque and Almeida took it with violence from their hands: and I
venture to think that in the Arab merchants of these Eastern seas, with
their Khojah friends in Western India and the “Old Man of the Mountain,”
at their head, we have the lineal descendants, in blood and language and
employment, of the Phœnicians of ancient times.

Able navigation was not confined to the waters of the Indian Ocean. We
know how before the Christian era Hindu merchants and sailors traversed
the Bay of Bengal, passed the Straits of Malacca and had flourishing
settlements, temples and palaces in Bali and the great islands of the
Java Sea. The Malay races in those islands had already proved themselves
adventurous navigators. We do not know how early they left their mark on
all the eastern kingdoms of the Bay of Bengal; on Ceylon, which was to
them _Pulo Selán_ “the island of gems;” and at various points along the
coasts of India, as far west as Gujerat. The Chinese too have not been
behindhand with their well-built vessels and the compass which they
first employed to direct them. Long, long were they at work, before they
had formed and perfected the enormous junks which so delighted Marco
Paolo, with their well-caulked seams, their fifteen watertight
compartments, their fifty cabins, their three hundred sailors and
numerous families of women and children: ready to undertake long
coasting voyages, or even run up the Straits to Ceylon, or visit the
three Ports of India which they loved, and from which they were driven
only four hundred years ago. The very finest of these vessels belonged,
not to the northern ports of China, but to the harbours of Siam. Among
all the Hindu and Arab vessels I have seen at Zanzibar, Calcutta and
Bombay, none equalled in size and strength of build the noble Siamese
junks, which I once found at anchor, after their annual voyage
northward, in the bends of the Peiho. It is when these pursuits are in
full activity that ability in their management is developed in its
highest forms. And what more natural than that among these Arab and
Siamese and Malay navigators there should appear, from time to time, men
of genius to shape out new enterprises: or that among their chiefs and
people there should arise another Prince Henry or Queen Elizabeth or
Ferdinand and Isabella, to foster and encourage them?

Anyhow there the Malagasy are; a Malay people, following Malay customs,
some of them possessing Malay eyes and hair and features; and all of
them speaking a Malay tongue at the present hour. When they came, where
they landed, what hindered their return, we know not. Was some large
vessel caught in a furious cyclone and driven ashore? Were the first
colonists few or many? Did they communicate with their friends and get
others to join them? Were several settlements established at different
points: was the colonisation continuous: if so, over how many years did
it spread? Did Malay navigation extend to the east coast of Africa, and
are Zambesi, Kilimány, Mombása, Kiloa, Masambika and other names there,
of Malay origin, as Mr. Freeman suggested?

Judging from modern results, I incline to think that the original
colonisation was not extensive; that the trade was found not to be
remunerative; while navigation so far to the south was found to have
special perils; and that the connecting link between Madagascar and
Great Malaya was early severed. The population has increased but slowly
during these long ages. Even now the Betsimisáraka tribes in their five
divisions only just exceed a quarter of a million: the scattered
Sákalávas, even in their wide and fertile plains, contentious and ever
at feud with one another, cannot exceed half a million. The three Hova
divisions are strongest in numbers, in civilisation and resources
generally, and yet amount to less than a million and three-quarters
altogether.

Hitherto the various writers on Madagascar in describing the population
have all followed Mr. Ellis’s estimate of forty years ago. That
estimate, amounting to 5,500,000, appears to be wholly inapplicable to
the present day. It was to a large extent guess work, and included
districts which had then scarcely been visited by an Englishman. I speak
of the population, as (to a large extent) I saw it; and I estimate it as
follows:—

                       POPULATION OF MADAGASCAR.

            1. BETSIMISARAKAS, including—            300,000
              Sihánakas, 40,000; Tanálas,
              20,000; Tankays, 50,000;
              Ikongos, 20,000

            2. SAKALAVAS, North and South            500,000

            3. HOVAS and Cognate Tribes:—

            Imerina and Vonizongo          1,000,000

            Imámo and Mandridrano           100,000

            Betafo and Vákin ’Ankárat       100,000

            Betsileo                        300,000

            Ibára, &c.                      200,000

                                              ————— 1,700,000

                                                       —————

                                              TOTAL 2,500,000

The results at present produced show at least three independent
movements in the settlement of the island. The Betsimisárakas have lived
a quiet life on the east coast, quite independent of the other tribes,
and have quietly spread up the hills into the Tanála, the Sihánaka and
Ankáy. And they have preserved in simple fashion the rough tongue of
their forefathers in Sumatra. Whether the Sakalavas are one people, or
have sprung from more than one colony, north and south, we know not.
They have had constant wars with their neighbours above the hills, as
well as among themselves. A dread of their courage and skill in war has
established between them and those neighbours a Noman’s land of fifty or
sixty miles in breadth. And their movements and their history seem to
have been all along independent of others.

The only traditions and remnants of past history come from the HOVAS,
who also have been independent, and who having found opportunities of
development not possessed by their fellows, have come to the front among
the Malagasy tribes. They tell us how their original settlement was in
the south-east of the island: when commenced, how developed, lasting how
long, they do not know. Results show that here they became a strong
people; and swarming off, they began to push their way up into the
hills. Evidently they entered the upper plateau at its south-east
corner; and while the foremost of the tribe pushed on, other branches
gradually springing from it, and now named Betsileo and Ibára, filled in
the districts behind. The advanced Hovas seem to have reached Imerina
about eight hundred years ago. For perhaps a hundred and twenty years
they were on friendly terms with a tribe which they found there, if not
actually subject to them.

This tribe they call Vazimba. In the present day they talk of them as
their ancestors; in the idolatrous days they were deified; and their
tombs are still the most sacred objects in the country. Happily the Hova
traditions give us the names of seven Vazimba kings. These names are as
genuine specimens of Malagasy as the Hova names themselves. The Vazimba
tombs are of the shape and structure of the usual Hova tombs, though of
rude work and rough stones. So far therefore as we know anything about
the Vazimba, they were a true Malagasy people: there is nothing African
about them.

After a while the Vazimba and the strangers quarrelled. Contests arose
and the Vazimba were driven out of the province; “to the south-west”
says the story; and that means “into the unknown.” This superiority of
the strangers, says tradition, was due to their use of iron. Whether
they had iron while on the coast; whether their fathers had brought and
retained any knowledge of its use; or whether they had learned it from
their Arab friends and neighbours at Mátitánana: whether they had
supplied themselves with iron-headed spears during their march up the
Betsileo; or had only produced them on arriving in Imerina, from the
iron hills of Amóronkáy, it is now impossible to say. But in the
assertion that they knew the use of iron, while their opponents had only
spears of wood, there is nothing improbable.

They made Imerina and all the upper plateau their own. And here for five
hundred years they settled down and spread and grew. They ate, they
drank; they planted, they builded; they spun and they wove; they married
and were given in marriage. They formed the iron hatchet and the iron
spade. They cut down the forests and built houses, well framed, well
fitted, with roofs that successfully shed the rain. They built villages
and towns; surrounded them with deep ditches and protected them with the
cactus hedge. They grew into compact tribes, obedient to their chief and
his appointed officers. The members of the tribe met in council; and in
the public assemblies, not only maintained their liberties, but
developed the powers and the resources of their mellifluous language.
They made war on their neighbours or defended themselves against attack:
their kings cemented peace by marriage alliances. They made great
feasts; and though no poetry has survived, their orators could recite
the traditions of the past: and their assemblies were enlivened with the
dance and the song. Great heroes arose among them, like Rapéto and
Ralámbo; of whom wondrous stories went abroad.

Two hundred and fifty years ago the Malagasy not only began to be better
known to the outside world, but light begins to be thrown upon their
internal growth and condition. At that period we find the Arab merchants
settled at three points on the coast and a foreign trade steadily
carried on. We find them on the east at two points. At Mátitánana they
have been settled long; they have written the Malagasy language in
Arabic characters; they have taught the tribes the Arabic names of the
week days and the months: but they have made no converts. As the first
specimens of the rukh’s egg were dug up here, it is possible that
Sindbad’s application of the old story may have been derived from some
sailor who had visited the settlement. There was another Arab colony on
the island above Tamatave, called by them Nosi Ibrahim: now known by the
French name of I. Ste Marie. Both these settlements, owing doubtless to
the Portuguese invasion of the eastern seas, were in a state of decay.
The third settlement, at what is now called Mojangá, had done better: it
was more easily accessible; it was nearer to the head quarters of the
Arab trade at Zanzibar; it was on the lee side of the island, on a
splendid bay; and both the Indian cloth trade and the traffic in slaves
were carried on under favourable conditions. More than this, able men
among the Arabs had watched their opportunities, had practically usurped
the government of the locality, and as the Sakalavás had no cohesion,
they retained their power long. At this time the trade of the Indian
Ocean was breaking up. The Portuguese had built up nothing in the place
of the power they had destroyed. The sea swarmed with adventurers:
Captain Kyd and other English pirates made Madagascar their head
quarters: and French schemers were planning and contriving settlements
on the sea board, hoping in the end to obtain possession of the island.

From all these quarters the Malagasy people gained no help. Under God’s
care in the quiet of the interior they were making steady progress. It
is evident from their traditions that two hundred and fifty years ago,
considerable strength was accumulating in the community, broader ideas
began to prevail, and efforts at closer union were put forth. Ralámbo
stands first in the new line of monarchs drawing the people onward. To
him are attributed great advance in the care of cattle, and the
establishment of the Fandroana festival. His second son, Andrianjáka, in
the days of Cromwell, founded Antanánarivo, on the hill till then called
Iálamánga. Sixty years later (about 1720), Andriamásinaválona, a man of
large mind, brought the whole of the Imerina towns under his rule. He
was a wise and thoughtful ruler, ready for great enterprises. To him is
attributed the greatest engineering work yet executed in the province,
the embankments of the river Ikopa, which prevent the annual flooding of
the great rice plain. His name is always mentioned in public kabáries
with profound respect. On his death his kingdom was broken up among his
sons; but a hundred years ago, all the twelve cities were re-united
under Impóin-Imérina, the ablest monarch of that princely line. The
border provinces also on every side felt the weight of his strong hand:
and his son Radáma, by hard fighting, long marches and untiring energy,
consolidated and extended the dominion on every side. Only the
south-west Sakalávas and Ikongo remained independent.

Even then, with all their growing energy, the Malagasy nation was still
young. Their cities were growing; the villages were becoming numerous;
and on the whole peace was maintained. But it was often broken for a
time: and the hollow valleys between the royal towns were still swamps
full of reeds, a protection to each city against its neighbours. The
rice cultivation was extending; but an immense area of the great plain
was still occupied by these great reeds, high overhead, thick, and all
but impassable. It took three days to travel from the present capital to
Ambohimanga, twelve miles to the north: the swamps were traversed in
canoes: and enemies, with spears, might be encountered at any point,
lurking in wait for prey.

In this brief sketch I cannot enter at length into the customs of these
tribes. Their ancient warfare with the thin spear and round hide shield;
their cylinder-bellows, and clay furnaces for smelting iron; their
simple looms and spindles, have all been described and pictured by Mr.
Ellis. With one thing however I was greatly struck: with their custom of
giving over to the dead in their large stone tombs, the dresses,
ornaments, furniture and possessions, which were favourites while they
lived. And I remembered how the Malay tribes of Polynesia and the North
American Indians have been accustomed to do the same. Another custom was
to exhibit by rows of cooking stones, or of bullock skulls on poles, the
extent to which the funeral feasts had been carried in honour of the
dead, and the estimation in which they were held.

The social life of the Capital at the beginning of this century, shows
in a very striking way how poor, as compared with other nations, the
civilisation of the Malagasy still was. Almost no European improvements
had reached them, except the fire-arms which they had obtained from the
coast, and which proved a powerful instrument in securing the
consolidation of the kingdom. When Le Sage visited him, Radáma was a
thorough Malagasy, in his dress, his superstitions, his house, his
habits. He was dressed in a lamba, and sat on the floor, to eat with his
hands out of a silver dish. His people were the same; and when they met
Le Sage and gave him a royal reception as the English envoy, they were
covered with silver ornaments, and shouted and danced and sang around
the strangers with truly barbaric pomp and show. In mental grasp and in
their longing for better things Radáma and his father were much beyond
all this. Radáma was a gentleman in his manners, courteous, considerate,
hospitable and kind. Both kings were wise in council, energetic in
action, eloquent in speech: both were humane in purpose, though in
despotic harshness they were often cruel; both were truthful,
straightforward, and truly anxious to improve. They were fine
illustrations of the weaknesses of Madagascar, as well as of its native
strength and native virtues.

Beneath the surface lay many proofs of the backwardness of the people.
Life and property were insecure: there was much poverty: few incentives
existed to active industry: the country was destitute of roads:
systematic travelling and intercourse between the different parts of the
country, was all but unknown. To me one of the most instructive
illustrations of the state of the island and of the relation of its
people to the world at large is furnished by an event which occurred at
this time on the north-western coast. On more than one occasion at the
end of last century the Sakalava tribes had taken advantage of small
vessels, in calm weather, had seized them, brought them to land and
burnt them for the sake of their copper and iron. Gathering together
hundreds of men, they had undertaken occasional expeditions against the
Comóro Islands and harried and robbed their people. But in 1816 they
planned a great expedition against the fort of Ibo, near Mozambique,
three hundred miles away. They gathered no less than two hundred and
fifty canoes, containing 6250 men; and set out on their expedition. They
were overtaken by a violent hurricane and only sixty-eight canoes
reached the African shore. That was in 1816. Yet it reads like a page
from Robinson Crusoe, or a story from the South Sea Islands.

I need not pursue the history. With Radáma we have reached our own
times; we have reached modern efforts, modern improvement, modern
missions. Often has the later story been written: it is told by Mr.
Sibree in his little book, and by Mr. Ellis in his “Martyr Church”
effectively and with brevity. Let us look at the people as they are. At
first sight my colleague and I thought them backward: but the more we
reflected on the past; on their complete isolation from the great world
around them; the simple frame-work and the small attainments of their
national and social life, so late as sixty years ago; the more
thoroughly we appreciated the great stride in progress which they have
taken in that brief period. Many officers of Radáma’s day are still
living, with their antiquated coats and antiquated notions; and till
very recently they have much hindered change and trammelled advance. But
solid progress has been made. It has been made in their outer life. But
best of all, it has been secured in far greater degree in their
religious character and in their moral and social habits. Indeed it is a
matter for special congratulation and thankfulness, that it is that
moral improvement which has come first; and that it is so deeply rooted
and so widely spread. The external civilisation will follow quite
rapidly enough.

In the form of their national life, the Malagasy are still a federation
of Malay tribes. Each of the greater tribes has numerous sub-divisions:
at the head of which are the noble families and princes descended from
the great chiefs of former ages. Among these the immediate descendants
of the ancient kings of all the sections and cities of old times occupy
an honoured place. The feudal rights and dignities and privileges of
these noble clans are carefully maintained, as well as their feudal
duties faithfully performed. All the commoner ranks of the people are
enrolled and included among the clients and followers of these inferior
chiefs and princes; or among the direct followers of the sovereign. All
payments for taxation within the tribes are made in kind or in feudal
service rendered. Officers are remunerated by lands or by the assignment
to them of the service of so many inferior men. Rice, sugar-cane,
lambas, firewood, beams for building, bundles of thatch, stones, pork,
beef are all rendered to them and to their superiors as part of that
service. Under the law of Ralámbo, the rump of every ox slaughtered in
the Capital is delivered to the Queen. On a message from the Queen
asking for any special form of service, local meetings are held by the
clans to arrange as to the mode of distributing it. The term used to
denote this system is _fánampóana_, which means exactly “service;” and
it bears all the variety and breadth of meaning which the English word
had in feudal times. Though having in it just elements, the system has
many weaknesses. It bears heavily upon the skilful: it is unequal in its
demands: it represses progress by taking away all stimulus to
self-improvement or to individual enterprise. It keeps society on a dead
level and fosters indolence and indifference. It will only be cured by a
fair distribution of the services required in all grades of society, and
by a commutation of the service for a fixed money payment.

In regard to legislation and general government, the Queen is the head
of all the tribes. On great questions public meetings of the tribes
(kabáries) are held: discussions take place, and the Sovereign
pronounces the decision. The Sovereign in this way enacts all laws. But
they are declared verbally by herself or some appointed officer, (as we
have seen in the Betsileo) in public meeting; and the people and their
representatives respond. Judges and magistrates, “heads of hundreds,”
and so on, are appointed to hear cases and complaints, or to examine
criminals: they sit in the open market. Many improvements are coming in
to these arrangements. The laws have been codified twice by recent
Sovereigns, and have been put in print. The Malagasy have now a “Prime
Minister,” a “Commander-in-Chief,” and a “Chief Secretary of State,”
called by the English names. And these officers, with a few others, form
a kind of inner council, who consult together about public affairs.
Formal receptions are held by the Court and affairs are conducted with
dignity and good sense.

Apart from their religious instructions, the missionaries of the London
Missionary Society have done a great deal to enlarge the general
knowledge of the people and elevate their family and social life. They
have given them new instruments for material progress, that have already
secured valuable results. They first systematically wrote down the
language: and both by learning to write and to use the press, the
government and the people have made abundant use of the new power placed
at their command. Mr. Chick, with his huge anvil and muscular arms,
astonished the people by the larger forms of iron work which he could
produce. Radáma admired him greatly. The native smiths and artisans soon
copied their master. Carpenters, builders and masons have done the same.
Perhaps the most striking improvement which has been accepted on a large
scale, is the adoption of the English dress. It took place during our
visit, in December 1873. With the approval of the people, the Queen
expressed her readiness to receive her subjects at Court dressed in
English costume. The transformation was rapid, and the demands made in
all directions for hats, bonnets, feathers, sprigs of flowers, and
ladies’ jackets was very great. Higher wants than these are being felt:
and in due time they will no doubt be supplied. Of these roads are an
important item: and the payment for service in money. And it is a happy
thing, that by improving and elevating the customs and institutions of
the country on their old lines, the stability and safety of the nation
are secured.

Things are yet very backward. But the Malagasy are an intelligent
people, an orderly people, a loyal people, a religious people. They have
learned much already: and they are improving daily. They are governed by
a good Queen and by wise and able officers. Had they at hand, in the
Capital, a wise English Consul, to advise them (when they need) in
difficulties, and to aid them in the solution of important problems
continually coming before them, their progress would be greatly
facilitated. Under such influences, secular and sacred, Hawaii, with its
sixty thousand people, has grown into a Christian nation and has taken
its place in the world’s history. Far greater will Madagascar at length
become, when elevated, sanctified and ennobled in all the elements of
its social and public life.

                              CHAPTER VII.

                 LAKE ITASY AND THE VOLCANIC DISTRICT.

South Border of Imerina—Hill of Antongona—Arivonimamo, the old
    Capital—Great number of beautiful hills—Miádana Manjáka—Lake
    Itasy—The Mándridráno—Religious knowledge of the people—The grass of
    Madagascar—Numerous craters and crater-lakes—Mahatsinjo and its
    people—Vinány hill—Kitsamby river—Antoby—The Vava Vato—Norwegian
    Missions—Menabe—Betafo and Sirabe—Volcanoes—Hot springs and
    Limepits—Votovorona—The East of Ankárat—Andraráty—Our return—Western
    Imerina—Ambohiveloma—The Fárahántsana: falls of the Ikopa.

                              CHAPTER VII.

                 LAKE ITASY AND THE VOLCANIC DISTRICT.

THE season was now advancing: the dry weather had come, and in the open
parts of the country there was little fear of fever. The plans of the
mission were pretty fully shaped out: and there were important districts
which we had not yet seen. In dividing the country parts of Imerina
among the churches of the capital as spheres of Christian labour, the
south-western, the district of Imámo, had been allotted to
Ambóhitantély. This church and its branches were in the hands of the
Friends; who have given to them the most devoted care. During our visit,
one of their number, Mr. Clemes, had gone to settle at Antoby near the
end of the district. We arranged therefore that we would visit this
district first: and Mr. Joseph Sewell, the senior member of the Friends’
Mission, kindly engaged to accompany us.

We left the capital on Tuesday, April 14th, at ten o’clock, having
planned to accomplish but a single stage on the first day of the
journey. As our route lay along the south border of Imerina, we crossed
the Ikopa, and three of its tributaries, and bent our steps towards
Antongona, one of the most striking hills in the province. The Sisaony,
which we crossed first, is a broad but shallow river, which we had met
with higher up, near Ambátomaláza. The Andromba we found a hundred yards
broad and four feet deep. The Katsaoka, a few miles beyond was about the
same size. Both rivers rise among the eastern roots of Ankárat, and
coming round Fandravásana and Kingory, flow across a level, which looks
wonderfully like a dried-up lake; and uniting at its western end, flow
northward to join the Ikopa, at the foot of Ambohimanoa. Before crossing
these rivers we found that the population was sensibly growing thinner.

ANTONGONA is a noble hill of gneiss, running nearly east and west. Its
name seems to recognise its resemblance to the human foot. It consist of
two sections, and in the centre of the western part is a lofty mass of
rocks, round which a number of houses are clustered. We climbed to the
summit (570 feet above the plain); obtained important observations: and
had a striking view of the country, which lay clear beneath us on every
side.

On the second day we rested at Arivonimámo, the former capital of the
IMAMO district. It is a small decayed place, with seventy houses. It is
surrounded by a deep fosse, and has on its north side a fine specimen of
the Malagasy town-gate, with its round stone. In the centre of the
little town are some royal tombs, shaded by five noble amóntana trees.
All the principal families, once settled here, have removed to the
capital and its neighbourhood: and the population is kept up by their
dependents and a few aged people past work. The town stands in an open,
undulating plain: but it has little population around it.

  STONE GATE AT ARIVONIMAMO.
]

From Antongona westward the country has many beauties. The hills are
bold, lofty and of fine form. The ravines are narrow; and the hills are
soft and rich with groves of the tapia tree on which the silkworm lives.
Ambóhitrámbo, which from the capital seems merely a noble conical hill,
we found to have a long ridge behind it, like the body of the Sphinx.
Ambóhimpanómpo, full of ravines and cascades on its northern face,
curves round to the south and south-east, in a great ridge covered with
boulders. South of Arivonimámo is a low hill, the basaltic stones of
which are heavy with iron. Close to its foot, come down some of the long
lava tongues that have flowed out from the lofty peaks of Ankáratra,
Ambohitsámpan and Tsi-áfak-áfo, twenty miles to the south. Still
westward, Iváhanámbo and Tsitákondáza, twin hills of great height, tower
above the country. Beyond them is the noble mass of Vódivóhitra: and
between it and Nánza lies one of the prettiest pieces of rural scenery
in western Imerina. Journeying onward we began to approach the edge of
the Imerina plateau, and were involved in ridges, that rapidly succeeded
one another, with deep ravines and gullies between. Throughout the
journey we crossed several small rivers, draining the north side of
Ankárat, the Ombifotsy, and the Anonibe, which join the Ikopa; and
others which fall into Lake Itasy and thence flow down into the western
plains. All these results of our observation are carefully embodied in
the Map of the district which is one product of our journey.

On the evening of Friday, the fourth day after leaving the capital, we
reached the village of Miádanamanjáka. It was on a hill and well raised
above the swamps. But it was a dirty place, of sixty-two houses; full of
pigs and cattle; and muddy from the heavy rain which fell just before
our arrival. The chapel, in which alone we could find accommodation, was
very damp and had a great hole in the roof. We put up the tent however
inside, spread our waterproof tent carpets, and made ourselves
comfortable. Here we spent three days, looking into a variety of matters
connected both with the place and with the people.

Saturday we devoted to LAKE ITASY; and spent a most delightful day
examining it. The ridge, upon the end of which the village stands, runs
north, and at its highest point overhangs the lake, being 1630 feet
above it. From the crest of this ridge we had a fine view of the entire
country: and as usual we took a series of observations and photographed
the lake, now lying in all its length before us. Lake Itasy is scarcely
known in the geographical world except by name. Its eastern end has been
visited on three or four occasions by the English Missionaries; and also
by M. Grandidier. The lake possesses many points of interest. One of its
most striking features is the noble mountain of Ambóhimíangára, which
overhangs its north-east corner. This is one of the grandest among the
many grand hills of Imerina. It is twelve miles in length; and its base
is over two miles wide: it has three peaks: each of which is fifteen
hundred feet above the general level of the plain. It is said to contain
a great deal of iron, and has for many generations been resorted to by
the people of the neighbourhood for their local implements. Other lofty
hills border the lake on the west. Indeed, except on its south bank it
is surrounded by hills; and on that side, the swampy level indicated
that in former days and when the waters were deeper, the lake extended
to a hilly mass now more than two miles from the shore. The lake is not
a deep ravine with one end dammed up by rocks (like Nynee Tál), and so
filled by the waters accumulated from above. It is a submerged level. At
its western end it looks shallow: and the fishing showed it to be
shallow: but toward the east, where strong winds produce a current, the
lake is deep. Many streams flow into it from the south and east: and it
has but one outlet on the north side: the stream from which goes to the
west and south-west and falls into the Kitsamby. The lake is eight miles
long and two miles and a half broad. It contains six small peninsulas,
jutting into the water; on one of which, called Ambóniházo, “wooded
hill,” is a little village, with a pretty church, embowered among the
trees. The country around it is very bright and green: and under the
clear sky, the lake of pale blue was a most pleasant sight. In the
afternoon we descended the hill and went down to its western shore. We
found there a plain a mile broad, with rice, maize and fruit growing in
the fields: with the little village of Moratsiázo and a chapel. Standing
on the margin of the lake, we counted nineteen boats or canoes, dotting
the water near, each with a separate man, catching with rod and line the
fish for which the lake is celebrated. The water is sweet, but it was
very dirty. The people of the village received us hospitably: they gave
us some excellent guavas; we had a most acceptable tiffin in the chapel;
and we left one of our men, who proves to be a good preacher, to conduct
service for them on the morrow.

The district we had reached, on the south-west corner of the lake, is
called the MANDRIDRANO, “sluggish waters.” The drainage of the district
is certainly imperfect: there are long levels in the valleys, the
outlets of which need artificial enlargement: to these sluggish waters
(which they drink) the people attribute the fevers which abound. The
population is by no means deficient. The weekly market was attended by
some three hundred people. There are several flourishing villages, as
Andrainarivo, Tsáravinány and Ambonilouka, within two miles: while
beyond Moratsiazo, there are Ambohipólo and Ambohidráno, villages of
some size with chapels: and to the west there is a large and fertile
basin with a large population, to be more particularly described. The
people too are by no means poor. They have plenty to eat and drink:
cattle are numerous: fruit is abundant, and rice and maize are
fabulously cheap. Mr. Parrett specially noticed during his visit (some
years ago), that a bushel of maize, weighing 70 lbs., could be bought
for threepence. Three bushels of rice cost ninepence. The market was
well supplied with beef, grain and fruit. But the people are extremely
ignorant; and the great among them are very consequential. They live in
a secluded corner of the country: they have rarely received a visit even
from intelligent men among their own nobles: and only by rumours does
any thing reach them from the great outside world. It was no wonder
therefore that our coming created a sensation. Three Englishmen at once
and a village-full of travelled fellow-countrymen quite turned their
heads. They were full of curiosity, and watched all that we said and did
with keenest eyes. Our folding chairs amused them greatly. Our railway
rugs and striped blankets, so thick and warm and bright coloured,
appeared to them truly gorgeous. Anything so warm and comfortable as our
tent they had never seen. How convenient and full of wealth our boxes.
How strong our water-cans; and as to our spoons, cups and enamelled
plates, our teapot and our boots, they were wonderful indeed. We had a
crowd around the place the whole time.

Five years ago there was only one man west of Arívonimámo, who professed
to be a Christian: and he proved to be a pretender. The old heathenism
of the country was unbroken. The petty idols, the magical charms, lucky
and unlucky days, were regarded with a veneration free from doubt. The
sovereign of their country was looked up to, as twenty years ago a
Russian peasant regarded the Czar, as God present upon earth. Except in
a single case, no faithful Christians fled hither, during the days of
persecution, as they fled to Vonizongo. There was no silent teaching, no
quiet moulding, of public and social life, by the words and the example
of martyrs, which other districts and towns enjoyed. Heathenism remained
unchecked, unattacked, unconquered. But when the idols were burned all
over Imerina, the superstitious regard of the great people for their
Queen, naturally led them to say to their dependents and slaves, “We
must pray, as the Queen prays:” and an external change was the result.
With it neither the missionaries nor the public authorities had anything
to do. It was the act of the people themselves. Heathenism had taught
them to follow their sovereign in every thing: and external heathenism
was ruined as the result. Mr. Sewell informed us that when he first
visited these people, and enquired who had taught them, what did they
know, and how they worshipped, he could get no replies. He gave them the
best help he could find, little as it was: and it has borne good fruit.
They do know something of Christianity now. It is difficult to secure
good teachers for them. The district is known to be unhealthy: the
people are backward in every thing: life is rough; though food is
plentiful. And it is only on the missionary principle of self-denying
labour for the Lord’s sake, that native preachers and their wives can be
induced to settle among them. One such teacher and his wife we saw at
Mahábo. And the bright face, the frank manners, and the clean, white
dress, showed in a moment how superior they were in the range of their
life and thought to the people among whom their lot was cast. One thing
however Mr. Sewell said, had sprung from this great lack of instruction;
which he observed more clearly every visit that he paid them. Knowing
that others have this instruction, the longing of the people for
teachers, for books, for Scriptures, has been intensified. We could see
the proof of this ourselves. We had seen the same thing in other parts
of the country, and were to see it again. Indeed among all the phenomena
of religious life in Madagascar that have come under our own eye, this
is the most prominent; that the ignorant multitudes of Malagasy are
eager to learn about the Christianity, which the nation has chosen for
its faith; and that they make the most attentive and docile scholars
that any Christian missionary, English or native, can desire to
instruct. We spent a pleasant Sunday among these people. The chapel was
well filled: and a large number of very respectably dressed men and
women were present. The singing was rough: and a style of bass, which
faintly resembles a bombardment, seemed very popular. We often heard
this bombarding bass in outlying districts. Mr. Sewell of course
conducted the service: and preached the gospel simply and to most
attentive listeners in connection with the story of the raising of
Lazarus. He also gave away many books in answer to earnest requests. I
think there are no parts of our visit to Madagascar, from which my
colleague and myself learned so much, as these visits to country
stations.

It was during our visit to the Mándridráno, that I received the
impression, afterwards repeatedly confirmed, that one of the most
beautiful things to be found in Madagascar is its grass. This grass
covers many thousands of square miles. It is beautiful as it spreads
abroad over the open plains, where it is short, compact and juicy; and
supplies abundant nourishment to the great herds which the nobles of the
land send to fatten upon what costs them nothing. It is beautiful in the
sheltered valleys, where the soft, tender blades, enriched by the pearly
dew and the gentle rain, are refreshing to the eye, and yield like
velvet beneath the foot. It has a few wild flowers self sown among its
roots: but has nothing of that profusion of colour and variety of form
in its wild companions which render the flowering plants on the broad
straths of Switzerland so brilliant to the eye, and such poor food to
the cattle which consume them. But the grass of Madagascar is in its
glory on the great hills. Burnt year after year by long sweeping fires,
it springs up again with a profusion and a fulness which clasp huge
rocks within its soft embrace. Here it is short but strong: there it
rises in vast tufts, each of which contains many thousand blades and
covers many feet of ground: and yet again it spreads over vast patches
of country in thick, tall masses, which tower above men’s heads, open
their tinted blades to the warm sun, and wave their myriads of golden
feathers in the summer winds. And it is when we contemplate this rich
but simple provision of the divine bounty, when we watch these masses of
slender blades, each tuft a forest in itself, clothing with beauty what
man has neglected, laying up store for man and beast, opening their
golden hair to the dews by night and the warm winds by day, and joyously
revelling in the life given them from above, that then we can, with Mr.
Ruskin, appreciate and share the admiration and the praise given by the
Psalmist to Him “who maketh the grass to grow upon the mountains.”

When standing on the lofty height overlooking Lake Itasy, we looked to
the north and west over a large number of strange hills. Mr. Sewell had
said that in his judgment, old volcanoes were to be found in this
neighbourhood: and it was clear to us as we stood on this commanding
position together, that the craters were before us. One of them, named
Ambóhitrondry, was of great height and width; outside it on the east was
a second, nearly circular; and a third hung on to that. Beyond these to
the north were two craters of moderate size, one of them double. And
beyond these again numerous others. Some were hollow craters; others
were cones of beautiful shape: and all were richly clothed with grass.
At our second station nearer the lake we were close to a lofty crater
called, Mángaháfa, and could look into it. Behind Moratsiázo was
another, Isáhadimy: and to the west of this, another Támpóly, with a
fine figure of a sleeping lion at the top. All these we carefully noted,
and placed in our maps.

The district on which they stand lies immediately west of Lake Itasy:
and it struck us that the eruption of these volcanoes, by elevating the
land, had barred the way of the original river, had submerged the level
plain through which it flowed, and formed the Lake. The waters must have
been high, until they found an outlet on the north and west in the
channel of the present stream.

Passing on to our next resting-place, the town of Mahatsinjo, we went
under the slopes of Ambóhitrondry and crossed two lines of lava which
had streamed from it in its active days. A short distance on we passed
through a cutting in the lava stream: which had a depth of twenty feet.
To the south of this cutting we had four grassy cones, and at their foot
a small lake, Kazanga, a mile long and half a mile broad. Three streams
run into it from the east and south; its outlet is on the west, where
the water has cut its way through a thick bed of lava pebbles. On the
following day we ascended a lofty hill, a little to the north of
Mahatsinjo, named Ambóhimailála, and found that it was a lava cone. It
gave us a fine prospect of the country. There were other cones and
craters to the north, amongst which was Gasgea, one of the noblest in
the group. And on a lower level of the land, were several others, of
which, later in the day, we visited two, perfectly circular craters,
with dirty greenish lakes at the bottom. On continuing our journey to
the south, we passed several others. Altogether we counted forty cones
and craters in this district of which we were sure. Some were of
enormous size, with lofty walls, conspicuous for many miles: others were
small. Many were of horse-shoe shape: a few were circular. There were
numerous little lakes and bowls among them: of which the largest was
Lake Kazanga, which we believe no Englishmen have seen hitherto. The
country is strewn with lava. Here and there it appears in huge blocks
and its pieces are heavy: or it lies in layers, at times perfectly even,
at times twisted like dough. Vast quantities have the little crystals of
olivine in their tiny cells. The spongy lava and pumice have
disappeared. The colour of the lava was in some masses a bright black:
in others a pale lead colour: all over this district brown earth and mud
are abundant: and they form a soil very different from the gritty red
clay, the common soil of the island. Here and there we saw conical heaps
of these lava stones, piled up by the people, who attach to them a
superstitious reverence. We saw more of the volcanic system at a later
period in this journey.

MAHATSINJO we found to be no common town. It stands on a spur of a long
clay ridge, the upper part of which is overlaid by the lava; and is a
place of some importance. It contains three hundred houses, many of them
large and built of wood with reed-panels. The houses stand on “terrace
upon terrace” cut into the slope of the hill. The rova or government
house is a substantial dwelling. The population is unusually numerous,
and reaches to probably eighteen hundred: we were told there were in the
place a thousand children. As with their neighbours in this Mandridrano
district, the people are well to do in the world: their cattle are
numerous and rice and corn are cheap. Below Mahatsinjo on the south
stretches a wide and level rice valley, supplied with abundance of
water: the whole is under careful cultivation and its volcanic soil must
produce enormous crops.

The town occupies an important position. Far richer in resources than
Miádanamanjáka, it is the real capital of the Mándridráno district: it
is surrounded by cultivated fields and has near it numerous villages.
Indeed the district seems to have gathered a population of its own,
settled in its choicest spots, and very much separated from their
neighbours in Imamo. It illustrates the way in which Madagascar (even
yet but partially occupied) has been peopled, and in which the various
sections of one race have grown up independently of one another. There
is abundance of Christian work to be done in the district, and
Mahatsinjo will prove an admirable centre for that work, with several
sub-centres around it. Mr. Sewell felt with us that it would be well
worth while for the Friends to place an English missionary here. The
people gave us a warm welcome: they eagerly attended Mr. Sewell’s Bible
classes and services: and earnestly requested that one of us would stay
and live amongst them.

Behind the hill on which Mahatsinjo stands is another broad level,
covered with rice fields, and having many little clusters of houses
(like the Betsileo válás) dotting its surface and the roots of its
bordering hills; and in their midst the little town of Ambálaváto. This
level lies below the Imerina plain and forms part of the first terrace
toward the west. With it the population comes to an end: for one day’s
journey beyond scattered houses may be found; then for three days a
traveller must sleep in tents and carry his supplies with him. The
district reached is a veritable Noman’s land, with the Sakalava tribes
on the farther side. The severity of their ancient raids upon Hova crops
and Hova cattle has prevented quiet people from attempting to occupy the
vacant territory. From the lofty heights of Ambóhimailála, we looked for
more than twenty miles across the plains of red clay. They were deeply
cut and scored with little valleys: and at a distance were long and
lofty ridges running north and south. One of these Bóngoláva (“long
heaps”) denoting a long ridge with numerous boulders, is said to be
visible from the west coast: and three lofty peaks, Ampanána, Sapila,
and Ivohibe, form conspicuous landmarks for recording the geography of
this region.

Both at Mahatsinjo and farther south, we heard much of an important town
on the farther side of Noman’s Land, named Mánandáza (“the glorious”).
It was described to us as a place as large as Mahatsinjo and as
populous. It is among the friendly Sákalávas, and is occupied by a Hova
garrison. “A good traveller may reach it in five days: a man driving
cattle will take a week.” This would indicate that the distance from
Mahatsinjo must be about seventy miles. Judging from our later journeys
I should imagine that the town will be found on one of the rivers
running from here to the westward, (probably on the Kitsamby) at the
point where it quits the hills to cross the lower plains to the sea. It
must be seventy miles from the west coast. There is a large church in
the town: and the Hova Christians have one excellent preacher among
them. Few of the Sakalavas are Christians.

After spending several pleasant days in this district, on Wednesday,
April 22d, we turned southward, with a view to visit the mission station
of Antoby and thence go on to Betafo. Hitherto we had travelled to a
large extent along the line of the Imerina valleys. Now we were to cross
them; and as they run out from Ankárat westward, are numerous and often
deep, we had rather a wearisome time until we had passed over the clay
country and had left it behind us. We passed many noble hills on the
way. Vinany, a grand towering hill of gneiss, proved an excellent
observing station and gave us a fine prospect of the country. Under
another noble hill, Antsárabé, the river Kitsamby comes down from the
roots of Tsi-áfakáfo. We found it a fine stream; two hundred feet broad,
three and a half feet deep, with a current of two and a half miles an
hour: the water was thick and brown with clay. Looking up stream we saw
that the river flows through a fine gorge between lofty ridges. To the
west it passes over rapids at the foot of a gneiss hill, and far out on
the plains, it receives the waters of several streams and then flows
round the south end of the great ridge of Sapilá fifteen miles away.

Climbing again to the level of the plain, up a long basin beautifully
cut out of the clay, we crossed successively the Sahomby, which flows
out from the Lake of Vinánynóny: then other small streams: then the
Sáhasáhatra which drains the north side of the Vava Vato; a rapid river,
a hundred feet broad, which has cut through everything to the primitive
rock. A lofty hill, Ambohitrolona, gave us a fine prospect of the
Kitsamby river and the western plains: and brought under our eye the
first of the Hova military stations, under the Sapila range. Another
river of clear, sparkling water, the Nangalána, next crossed our road;
followed by a smaller stream deeply coloured with clay: when, tired with
our three days’ climbing up and down these numerous valleys we safely
reached the ANTOBY Mission-house, on Friday afternoon.

The kind welcome of our friends Mr. and Mrs. Clemes soon made us forget
our troubles: and with quiet Sabbath services we enjoyed in a double way
a sense of rest. There is no town at Antoby. The Mission is planted in
the midst of small villages, and has many others of greater or less
importance at various distances, as out-stations. We had already passed
several of these and saw others during our visit. At the same time we
thought that the sphere of labour is a limited one; the working of it
involves a great deal of toil: and it is only peculiar circumstances,
that suggested the position and that are best controlled by an English
missionary’s personal influence, which justify the appropriation of a
missionary even for a limited time, when larger spheres are open to him.
The Mission-house is a most modest dwelling, simply and neatly
furnished; and though too small, more completely realises my idea of a
country Mission-house than others which I have seen.

For several days we had had in sight the great granite mountains of the
VAVA VATO, which we had skirted on their eastern side, on our journey to
the Betsileo province. The lofty serrated crest of these mountains had
furnished us with conspicuous points for our survey. On the west centre
were the noble peaks of Iávohaikia and Ivohitány; in the south bend was
the peak of Máhasóa; and on the northern curve were two rounded hills,
exceedingly like elephants; one very large, with a small elephant
standing in front of him. These points occur repeatedly in our survey
lists. We had long been approaching these granite mountains: the single
line first seen on the horizon had broken up into masses, showing
different ridges: and at Antoby we not only found ourselves close to
them, but Mr. Clemes assured us that there was no difficulty in making
the ascent and returning the same day. Our men, fortified for extra toil
by an extra day’s pay, entered into the scheme with spirit, and we
devoted Monday to the expedition.

We started at half-past seven and returned by half-past five: and with
lovely weather and a clear sky, had a successful day. We penetrated into
the very heart of the Váva Vato range: and climbed to the summit of
Iávohaikia (7100 feet), the highest peak of all. We found that, counting
from the west, the mass contains three ranges and on the third in its
centre is Iávoháikia. Behind is a fourth range, which bends to the
south-east: on this is Ivóhitány. The first three ranges run south for
three miles, then curve and end with a western front in the mass of
Máhasóa. To the north these ranges bend to the eastward, and on the
curve of the third and highest range are the two elephants. From them
and from the fourth range, two lofty ridges run to the east and
south-east: with fine grassy alleys between them.

This mass of mountains is piled up upon the grandest scale. Each ridge
is lofty and impresses one with its greatness. Who can adequately
describe the combination of the whole? It is impossible to enter into
details; to picture the thousands of fallen rocks; to tell the size and
vastness of individual rocks, bigger than palaces and temples; here
piled upon one another, there scattered in profusion over a vast space.
We walked beneath them, looking like pigmies: we climbed and climbed and
stood upon them, looking like flies. Their shapes were wonderfully fair:
their combinations and massings were strangely picturesque. Here a broad
grassy level lay between two ranges: there a dark narrow way passed
between giant rocks which towered high into the air. At the foot of huge
square pillars which might be formed into an Egyptian temple, we took
our refreshment on a granite table: the water everywhere was bright and
pure. No finer rocks, no masses of such surpassing grandeur, have I seen
in any of the countries which I have visited.

The granite of these mountains is of pink felspar, of fine grain and
delicate tint. It is in a very rotten condition. Is this the result of
weather only: or does it come of the fierce heats of the volcanic region
by which it is entirely surrounded?

The district in which we were now travelling, from the Kitsamby south
and from the Vava Váto mountains to the sea is called MENABE, the “great
red” land. It deserves the name, for the red clay is most conspicuous on
all its western side. The population continues for only one day’s
journey to the west. It is worthy of note that while on the eastern edge
of Imerina the first descent is covered with thick forest along the
entire line of country, the first descent on the west, both in the
Mándridráno and Ménabé, is quite bare of wood: the terrace below for at
least fifteen miles westward is bare also. There is brushwood in the
hollows; but there is no forest properly so called. Farther south on the
western edge of the Betsileo, M. Grandidier’s map indicates that there
is forest.

We now looked forward to a visit to the Norwegian Mission Stations,
which were not far away; and the first of which, AMBOHIMASINA, is only
six miles south of Antoby. We had already obtained three bearings of
both the village and the Mission-house from various points. Taking
farewell of our kind hosts, we left Antoby on Tuesday, April 28th, and
had a pleasant run of two hours and a half, over the clay hills, and
across the Ikokomy river, to Ambohimasina; where we were most kindly
welcomed by Mr. Eganes of the Norwegian Mission: and joined him in a
late breakfast. Mr. Eganes has lived a lonely life for two or three
years at this distant station: but he has gathered round him the
apparatus for Christian work: has built a simple, comfortable
dwelling-house, and school: has been learning Malagasy; and now joined
by a good wife, who was at the time of our visit on her voyage, he is
prepared to devote all his strength and time to the instruction of the
people around him.

At one o’clock we set out for the station of BETAFO, distant about
fifteen miles. The journey was somewhat long and the road rough and
unknown: but the bearers were as anxious as ourselves to arrive before
dark, and they stepped well forward. Mr. Sewell and I brought in the
rear of the party just before six o’clock and we were soon comfortably
housed under the hospitable roof of Mr. and Mrs. Eng. I will not
describe the details of our journey: but the ground over which we had
travelled is in many respects remarkable, as illustrating the manner in
which the present surface of Madagascar has been formed.

Our course from Ambohimasina was south-east, right up the valley of
Betafo. This valley is in shape like an inverted funnel: at the western
mouth it is five miles across: at the higher and eastern end it is a
mile and a half wide. It is enclosed by high ridges through its entire
length. A fine gneiss ridge overhangs it on the south. On the north the
granite mountains of Mahasoa and the inner ridges of the Vava Vato, hang
above it for ten miles: then follows a low gneiss ridge which extends to
Betafo. The floor of the valley is of the sedimentary clay: it belongs
to the upper plateau of Imerina and would, if undisturbed have descended
to the west by three broad stairs, each five miles wide. It is the
disturbances from which this enclosed valley has suffered, that give it
its peculiar features and make its physical geography a subject of so
much interest. Like many sections of Ankay it illustrates in miniature
the process by which whole continents have been formed. First, at its
upper corner on the south side, there meet two rivers, the Andrasáy from
the east and the Lóalámbo from the north: the latter brings down a
strong body of water from high ground: and both streams under the name
of Loalómbo, have cleared the clay down to the gneiss rock, through the
entire length of the valley along its south side, and carried the soil
into the western plains. Five miles below their junction a strong stream
comes out from the Vava Vato, called the Tsi-tánymaláma, “not a slippery
land;” a sensible name, given by some Malagasy traveller with bare feet,
when he was passing over its sharp granite pebbles: this stream cuts the
great valley clean across with a valley of its own, and through the deep
gulley flows into the Lóalámbo. Below this again, small streams from the
granite have made numerous minor cuttings: and five miles below, a
second river, the Sakóva, shallow at present but strong in the rainy
season, does the same; cutting the clay with beautiful curves and
leaving a high bank and ridge overhanging the water on the east side.
All the ledges at the foot of these ridges are studded with villages,
and hamlets, and in the centre of the valley, below the Sakova, is the
village and Mission-house of Soávina, another station of the Norwegian
Mission. On the north side of the valley is a series of clay terraces,
beautifully formed; and numerous hamlets in a cluster combine to make up
the town of Ambáranákóho. There is considerable population in this part
of the valley and more than one chapel is conspicuous on the hill-side.
Near the broad mouth of the valley, though the clay hills are numerous,
the general level that has been reached by all this cutting and washing
of the streams, is that of the lower terrace in Menabe. At the
south-west corner of the valley, the Lóalámbo having gathered all the
streams into itself, flows full and strong across the plains, south of
the great peak of Ivohibe, to join the river Mania.

Our visit to Betafo was made most pleasant by the great kindness of Mr.
and Mrs. Eng. Mr. Eng has now been several years in Madagascar and knows
the district well. He has suffered greatly from the local fevers, which
re-appear in his system again and again, and keep him an invalid. But
his earnest zeal and his longing desire for the welfare of his people
render him a valuable member of the Mission. His position is one of
great usefulness. The mission-house stands on a little hill in the midst
of a vast amphitheatre, cut out of the great valley, at its upper end,
by the rivers above named; and while the waters run free in the deep
beds which they have made, the sloping banks around the vast enclosure,
have been shaped into hundreds of terraces upon which rice is grown.
Villages have been placed on all the best parts of the higher ground:
and within sight of the mission-house, there must be in these villages
some twenty thousand people.

A few miles to the east, on the way to Sirabe, is a broad plain, also
rich in rice fields. Sirabe itself is full of rice grounds. So also is
the Mánandóna valley to the south, which we had already traversed: and
so is the Lávadráno plain to the east. There is no lack of villages and
people throughout this region. The district lies south-west and south of
the Ankárat mountains: and among the Malagasy is known by the technical
name of Vákin’ Ankárat, “cut off by Ankárat.” It contains altogether ten
thousand _hetra_ or holdings, and these are believed to represent a
population of one hundred thousand people. Betafo itself was the head of
an independent kingdom, the fortress of which was on the top of a
conical hill, on the south of the amphitheatre. It was summoned to
surrender by Radáma; and yielded itself without trouble. The district
has since formed an integral portion of the Hova dominions. And on her
journey home from the Betsileo province, the Queen, with her camp,
turned aside to Sirabé, that she might meet with her people. As at
Fianáran, so also at Sirabe, she addressed to them all wise and stirring
words upon the subject of educating their children.

The district forms an excellent sphere of usefulness: and it is occupied
by the Norwegian brethren in force. They have established nine principal
stations, occupied by seven missionaries. The people have been somewhat
prejudiced against these brethren, as not being Englishmen and of the
same Society as those who first instructed them. But they are overcoming
these prejudices; and Mr. Eng assured us that there is decided
improvement in their congregations and schools. We could not wish it
otherwise. Trained in the Evangelical school of the Norwegian Church,
these brethren are anxious to work in harmony with the Friends and
ourselves: questions of jurisdiction have practically been settled
between us. And we can truly wish them God speed in their labours. Their
reception of Mr. Sewell, my colleague and myself at all these stations
was affectionate and cordial in the extreme.

At Betafo we were in the neighbourhood of the volcanoes once more: and
having expressed our desire to examine them carefully, Mr. Eng kindly
offered to accompany us. Ivoko, the noblest of all the craters in this
district, was only two miles from the house. We had seen it from far
down the valley, towering above the country; and we were anxious to
climb to the summit, in the hope that by its means we might connect the
eastern and western lines of our survey: as well as obtain a good view
of the district at large. In this plan we found complete success. But
our friends had resolved that we should have ample comfort in our day’s
work. Abundant provision was made for our wants: the children of the
family were delighted to join us: and a large number of the Christians
of Betafo, anxious to show us respect, also accompanied us. Our visit to
the Ivoko crater turned out a pleasant jaunt rather than a day of toil:
and under a bright sky, with little wind, it yielded us thorough
enjoyment.

We had a good climb: the total ascent being eleven hundred and thirty
feet. Our native friends, used to hills, coolly walked right up the
steep side, and thought nothing of it. Others of us took the more gentle
ascent or were carried by our men, who enjoyed the holiday, as much as
ourselves. The prospect from the summit was truly beautiful. Ivoko, we
saw, was a vast crater, a quarter of a mile across; the encircling wall
was complete, except at the south where the opening was fifty feet wide.
The western wall is higher than the eastern. Beneath us, half a mile to
the east, was another crater, Iatsífitra, second only to Ivoko, with its
opening to the north. Long narrow mounds of volcanic rocks, running out
from each of these hills showed the course taken by the molten lava
streams. Both hills were covered inside and out with living grass. On
the north-west shoulder of Ivoko were two other large craters,
overhanging Betafo: two more were close by at the north-east: and others
were conspicuous ten miles to the north. On the south again were several
others, the horse-shoe shape being very marked in all. While ten miles
to the south, was the round crater of Tritriva, with a green lake, deep
down within. Far away to the east were other craters near and to the
north of Sirabe.

Our survey of the country had now been carried along the western
districts of Imerina, and thence to the south; and it had embraced the
whole country lying between the Ankárat mountains and the great ridges
and peaks of Ménabé. On our former journey we had laid down the inner
portions of the Vákin Ankárat; Mr. Cameron had determined the latitude
of Betafo, Sirabe and Votovorona, nearly in a line; and we had examined
the whole eastern side of the upper plateau from the capital to the
south border of the Betsileo. At Ivoko we stood midway between these
separate lines of observations: a large number of the principal peaks
and positions were in sight; and we enjoyed an excellent opportunity of
comparing them together, and testing the accuracy of our own work. When
duly worked out, it was satisfactory to find that the sets of
observations were consistent with one another, and that the
discrepancies were few and within small compass. It is from these
observations that our Maps have been constructed.

Descending to the crater of Iatsifitra, of which I obtained a
photograph, we observed that the lava rocks, which had issued from it to
the north, were black, sharp and fresh, as if they had been broken
yesterday. On its eastern side was a plain, a mile square, covered with
heaps of broken lava, like stone cottages, fortresses, and ruined
palaces. I counted thirty greater piles: and noted numberless smaller
ones. It was clear that, like the Phlegrœan fields in Italy and the
neighbourhood of Mouna Roa in Hawaii, the entire plain had at some time
been on fire; and that a hundred jets of fire and flame and molten lava
had spurted from its surface, hurling their blazing rockets into the
sky. The heaps were now old and moss-grown: but one of the peasantry
informed Mr. Sewell, that there was a kind of tradition amongst the
people, that their ancestors had seen these flames bursting forth. They
called the fire _áfo-to_: and the lava _kitroka_.

Near to Betafo in a cutting, ten feet deep made by a stream, I observed
a specimen of the strata formed by the successive eruptions of these
volcanoes. At the bottom were lumps of lava, somewhat small. Above these
came several bands of brown earth: then one of black earth: above this
several strata of ashes, and of lava gravel: above these again were
strata of earth. Similar strata we had seen in a cutting in the
Mándridráno: and subsequently saw others under the hill of Ivohitra in
Sirabe.

I need not give the details of our inquiries and their results on each
day of our journey. Travelling farther east, across Sirabe and round the
southern end of Ankaratra we had the lava still, with long tongues,
cinder heaps, and old craters again and again. We ascended one of the
noblest hills in the country, the conical peak of Votovorona, a most
important station in our survey: and we found it to be volcanic. Another
fine cone to the east of it, Ihankian, was volcanic also. In this
district we found sixty of these cones and craters. Altogether in this
important journey we saw and counted a hundred extinct craters,
extending over an arc of ninety miles, not reckoning the central mass of
Ankárat, the finest of all, round one side of which this great arc
bends. Even these do not exhaust the tale. The volcanic belt appears
once more to the northward in the lofty hills with which the island
terminates. The peak of Mataola is volcanic. Mount Amber is volcanic:
the renowned fortress close to it is an ancient crater. Nosibe is an
island full of volcanoes. Mayotta and Johanna in the Comóro isles are
full of craters, lava peaks and lava streams. What a mighty volcanic
force must have been exerted over this enormous area! Does Java itself
show a more wonderful volcanic field? If human eyes could have beheld
and appreciated them, what a scene of indescribable grandeur must have
been presented when these volcanoes were active: when the land was
rocked with earthquakes, and the mighty hills of gneiss and granite were
upturned and rent in pieces: when showers of blazing rocks shot out like
meteors into the lurid night, and the molten lava streams flowed like
red rivers out of the mouths of these flaming furnaces. Wonderful in the
history of the earth has been the agency of fire: nowhere can that
agency have been exhibited more grandly in the present age of the
earth’s formation than on the great volcanic field of Madagascar.

Among the adjuncts of the volcanic field we found four hot springs,
three of which are near together in Betafo and Sirabe. The temperature
of the spring at Betafo, as tried by Mr. Cameron on our first visit was
130° Fahr. The water seemed perfectly tasteless.

In three places we also found jets of carbonic acid gas. Beneath the
broad and level plain of Sirabe, extending over fifty square miles,
there is evidently a great deposit of lime. The pits of Sirabe, worked
by the government convicts, supply nearly all the lime used for building
both in the Capital and Imerina at large. With the exception of some
lime deposits, containing satin spar, north of Ankárat; and a little
sandstone in South Betsileo, this lime of Sirabe is the only secondary
rock we met with or heard of in the upper districts of Madagascar. It is
massive lime and contains no fossils. It is from this lime that the
wells of carbonic acid gas are derived. One well with numerous jets was
connected with a filthy mud pool; the water bubbled all over the surface
and our bearers could not imagine why it remained quite cold. In a
second case the tubular well was dry, and we found butterflies and
various insects dead and dying around its mouth: we were told that frogs
and mice are also at times found dead there. Among the lime pits the
bubbling springs were numerous. At one point a huge tufa rock has been
formed, having caverns with stalactites on its eastern side. On the top
of the rock there is a natural basin: the water of a spring continually
flows up through a crevice, bubbling as it rises. And thus it provides
neither more nor less than natural soda water, of which we could drink,
as we liked, without charge.

During our journey we looked everywhere for columnar basalt: but failed
to find it. We saw abundance of lava, great and small, and of volcanic
earth: but of columnar rock there seemed to be none. At last we found a
single patch of it, about fifteen miles north of Voto Vorona. It covered
a space of thirty feet by twenty: the columns were, as usual, six-sided:
and the pillars exposed on the edge of a low ridge were four feet long.
It is in the neighbourhood of these volcanoes that all the metals and
peculiar earths in the island are said to be found. A district
south-east of Sirabe and near to the Mania, is said to possess copper.
Sulphur in small quantities is found at the south end of Ankárat. The
lime is in Sirabe and a little of it north of Ankárat. Iron is found in
abundance in the hills of Amoronkay, fourteen miles from the Capital and
to the east of Ankárat. It is also abundant in the lofty mountain of
Ambóhimiangára on the north-east corner of Lake Itasy. On the whole the
native metallic supply in Madagascar seems poor and scanty.

Journeying from Betafo to the Capital, we paid a brief visit to the
mission at Másinandráina; skirted the little lake of Iraikiba, the scene
of a local legend of the Hero and Leander type; exhibited the bubbling
well to our astonished bearers; and a second time enjoyed the
hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Rosaas at Sirabé. Thence we journeyed east
over new ground to the broad level valley of the Lávadráno, “hollows
with water;” and received a kind welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Nilsen at
Lóharáno. With Mr. Nilsen, we climbed VOTOVORONA, and from the summit
carefully surveyed the country on all sides. The clear view furnished us
with several connecting links of great value to the lists of
observations taken hitherto. We saw far to the south the hill
overhanging Ambositra: we saw Ivohibe to the west; and to the north had
several lofty hills of known position a few miles south of the Capital.
Votovorona is a noble conical hill, of most striking appearance. It is
844 feet in height, and stands on a broad base, 900 feet across. The
base is gneiss: the cone proper is of lava rocks; one stone of which was
clinkstone with a decided metallic ring. From Votovorona we had a clear
view of several horse-shoe craters on the neighbouring moor: and the
long valley of the Lavadrano was beneath us in all its length and
breadth. The great granite mass of Ibety, south of Sirabe, towered high
over the country.

From this point to the capital, travelling was comparatively easy. We
were on the high plateau of Imerina. A single journey on the Saturday
along the western side of the plain took us across the river Elaborona
(“bird’s wing”) just where it joins the Onibe: and led us comfortably to
Ankisitra. Here we rested for the Sunday and had a fresh opportunity of
observing the ignorance of our country congregations at a distance,
their perseverance in maintaining worship, and their willingness to
receive instruction. In all this part of the country we saw no
population. Next day we slept in the chapel at Andraráty, at the foot of
the great peaks of Ankárat. We took valuable observations from lofty
hills: but for two days the weather baffled our attempt to climb the
highest, Tsi-áfa-závona: and we were compelled to give it up. Crossing
the lava tongues and ridges, at Miantsoarivo, we fell into our former
track on starting for the Betsileo. Again we passed along the waters of
the Katsáoka (here called the Berimo) and of the Andromba issuing fresh
from the lava; and reached the thick clusters of villages in South
Imerina. Again we visited Ambátomaláza, with its grand turtle-head rock.
We had completed the circle of Ankárat, had enclosed this great mass of
mountains within a ring of observations, connected point by point. We
had seen and visited the population that drink of its waters. On
Thursday, May 7th, a little after noon, we reached Antananarivo once
more, wearied, but safe and well.

A few days after we set out to pay a brief visit to the town of
AMBOHIVELOMA, which has been selected as a station for the residence of
an English missionary in Western Imerina. The place is situated at the
distance of a long day’s journey from the Capital. Having crossed the
Ikopa and rounded the great hill and island of Ambóhitramanjáka, so
prominent in the landscape of Imerina, we rested at the next village of
Anósimanjáka, to give the men breakfast. And here we met with a singular
reception. Mr. Pillans and I were alone; there was no interpreter to
help us in our intercourse with the people. Putting up in a handsome new
chapel, not yet finished, the elders of the village came to pay their
respects: the chapel mats were speedily spread, and things were put in
preparation. We were strangers to these village elders: they knew that
we had come across the sea to visit the native churches: but they had
heard rumours that we were addicted to strange proceedings, which they
did not understand, and concerning which they had received no
instructions either from political or ecclesiastical authorities. They
were evidently afraid of us: they were therefore courteous but reserved.
After a few inquiries about things in general, whence we had come and
whither we were going, the reason came out. “In travelling about, do you
not take pictures?” “Yes, we have made many pictures.” “Do you not write
down the country and the churches?” “Yes, we do.” They looked very
serious over these confessions: and eventually the oldest goose in the
village and two little pots of rice were deemed a fitting present for
such very suspicious visitors.

Going on our way we had to cross the Andromba, now a strong stream,
eight or ten feet deep and sixty yards wide, bearing the waters of the
Kátsáoka as well as its own. Bridges are unknown in Madagascar over such
streams, and we must cross in a canoe. The only canoe available was a
narrow thing, with a big hole in it, stopped up with lumps of turf, and
leaking considerably. Besides there was not a single paddle to propel
it. What matter? Some luggage and a few bearers were put into the
gallant bark: and the ferryman rowed them over with his legs, using
first the right foot and then the left, that the resultant might be a
right line! The party landed safe: and in due time we followed. An
efficient paddle would have cost that genius one farthing.

Passing well to the north of Antongona and Ambohitrambo, we kept up a
long level valley, south of a fine hill that was new to us,
Ambóhimanáha. Again we crossed our old friend the Ombifotsy, and in due
time came near the Anonibe. We reached our destination just at sunset.

AMBOHIVELOMA is a country town of unusually striking appearance. It is
situated on the top of a clay hill, 450 feet above the rice plain: the
hill slopes up rapidly and is deeply scored with ditches and gullies
once relied on as fortifications. The town contains a hundred houses.
Two large and well-built houses stand at the top of the town, which
belong to the principal family in the place, and near them are the
family tombs. Indeed the tombs are royal, one of the old kings of the
district being buried here. There are other houses about, enclosing
plenty of space: and the hill is covered with trees. The chapel is
rather a small building, unworthy of the place and people: but that
defect will soon be remedied. We found in it a school of thirty-five
children. It has been arranged that the missionaries coming to occupy
Ambohiveloma shall rearrange these two principal houses, and reside in
them while the permanent English house is being built, on the northern
slope of the hill.

Ambohiveloma is surrounded by fertile rice valleys well supplied with
water. It is therefore the centre of a large population; villages and
hamlets are seen in all directions on the little terraces of the hills
above the fields. A hundred such are found within a few miles and some
of the villages are large. Beyond these villages on all sides the
population is thin; even on the east as well as north and south. And as
the ancient kingdom that was established here stood isolated from
others, so the new Mission district about to be arranged for, will have
a sphere of its own and be to a considerable extent separated from
others. Nevertheless it has the prospect of much usefulness.

On the following day we ascended a lofty hill, named Ambóhimaláza, four
miles to the south-west of Ambohiveloma: and had a fine view of this
western part of Imerina. We stood in a new position just between
districts, to the south and north, over which we had slowly travelled.
Many of our great landmarks were in sight and were distinctly seen in
the clear air. Lohavohitra to the north: Ambohimiangára to the
south-west: Tsiafakáfo and the peaks of Ankárat: Ambohimanáha, and
others even more distant, were prominent points in the outstretched
landscape. We saw also two noble granite masses in the north-west,
Ambohitrondrona and Antáramánana, which have lofty serrated peaks and
resemble in many respects the granite ridges of the Vava Vato and of
Ibety.

During the day we observed many beautiful butterflies about the hill:
and several were brought to us by the children, pinned to a small stick
by a thorn. They were beautifully marked with green and black and gold.
The day closed with one of the finest sunsets I have seen in the East.
As we stood on the platform at the top of the hill, we had an immense
territory under our eyes. The whole was lighted up by the departing sun
with a gorgeousness and splendour indescribable. The colour of the whole
was a rich golden red. Every hill and valley, high and low, was bathed
in the glowing radiance, which seemed not of earth but of heaven.

  THE FALLS OF THE IKOPA.
]

On our return home, we bent our course a little to the northward that we
might visit the falls of the Ikopa. These falls are not only very
striking in themselves, but the barrier reef over which the river leaps
occupies a most important position in the economy of the province. The
sedimentary clay of Madagascar yields so readily to the action of water,
and is so speedily scored into gullies and ravines, that if it had
nothing to stay its course, broad plains would be impossible; only long
and narrow rice cultivation would be practicable. The truth of this we
have seen again and again in the scored and riven districts of Menabe
and Ankay, where it is difficult to find level ground. On the western
side of Imerina, at the point to which the line of its drainage by the
Ikopa tends, there is in God’s good providence a remarkable reef of hard
gneiss rocks. This reef retains the waters of the river at a certain
fixed height. Age has passed after age, generation after generation: but
the waters remain. The clay hills of Imerina have been melting away; but
the silt at their feet, and the rich soil that has been formed, have
only found a more perfect level. They cannot be wasted and washed away,
over the stern barrier which retains the waters: and so the plain of
Imerina, twelve hundred square miles in size, has only grown richer, as
its swamps were cleared of reeds, and has become more fit to feed the
multitudes of people that cluster in the hundreds of villages which stud
its fertile bosom. A similar reef of rocks at Sinjoarivo retains the
waters of the Onibe in the Ankisitra plain: and yet another, the winding
stream of the Mánantánana, which waters though imperfectly the broad
basin of Ambohimandroso. It is due entirely to these rocky barriers that
this rich silt and the fertilising streams, which support a million
lives have found a secure resting-place, four thousand feet above the
sea.

The Fárahántsana, or reef of the Ikopa, lies at a point, a few miles
north-west of Ambohimanoa and immediately south of Vonizongo. We struck
the river a little above the reef, where it bends round to the north;
and we clambered over the rocks beyond, until we stood on a projection
of the bank, opposite to the falls. The reef is two hundred yards in
length; and the rocks are piled on one another in a solid mass, while
hundreds more lie struggling in the waters in the bed below. The
Fárahántsana is the second fall; there being a smaller fall with
numerous rapids half a mile above. In the chief fall there are two
passages for the water, and the height of the fall is fifty feet. Once
over they boil and foam and hurry onward, taking a second leap a little
below, and foaming over great boulders rush down the rocky ravine toward
the sea. The scene is in many ways one of great beauty. I was glad to
secure two photographs of it, the one facing the fall, the other looking
down the ravine.

After examining and enjoying the scene, we went to tiffin in what
appeared to be a pretty looking cottage, on one of the islands, and
embowered in trees. It proved to be a Malagasy house of the usual order,
dirty, disorderly, with a clean mat or two vainly endeavouring to hide
what was beneath. Of course while we rested the inevitable chickens
would come between our feet, and carry away everything that their hungry
little beaks could grasp. The next day we returned to the Capital:
having made large additions to our knowledge of the details of Imerina
geography, during this little journey of four days.

                             CHAPTER VIII.

                   THE SIHANAKA PROVINCE AND PEOPLE.

Special reason for a visit to this Province—Crossing the Granite
    Moors—Basin of the Mananára—Anjozorobe and its People—Spend Sunday
    with them—“The Gate of Rock”—The Wilderness of Ankay—Capital of the
    Sihanaka, its Governor and People—Christian work and the Native
    Pastor—Tour round the District—Ambohidehilahy—Ambodinónoka—Petulance
    of our Bearers—The great Swamp and its Reeds—Ambohitromby—Reception
    at Ambohipeno—Amparafaravola and its kind Governor—A Volcanic
    Hill—Ambohijanahary—Ambohitsara—Enquiries about the Gun—The Alaotra
    Lake and the Scenery around it—Marosalázana and its bright
    Scholars—Memorials of the Dead—Whence came the Sihanaka People—How
    they became Christians—What the Gospel is doing for them—Form,
    Extent and Population of the District.

                             CHAPTER VIII.

                   THE SIHANAKA PROVINCE AND PEOPLE.

THE SIHANAKA province, to which our steps were next directed, has
hitherto borne an evil reputation as a hotbed of fever. But there were
strong reasons which made it imperative for us to see the place and its
people. Good work had been done there. The people needed a visit. Only
one of the missionaries knew anything about them, the Rev. J. Pearse,
now in England, and he had offered, with singular devotion and
self-denial, to give up all the comfort of his settled ministry in
Antanánarivo, and help “the sheep in the wilderness,” far distant from
their brethren. For the satisfaction of his colleagues, for the
satisfaction of the Directors, it was necessary that we should see his
chosen field and give our judgment respecting it. At the last moment, we
received a kind message from the Prime Minister, informing us that
small-pox had broken out in the Sihánaka district; and though he left us
at perfect liberty to proceed thither, he desired at least to warn us
that we might be on our guard. We thanked him for his kindly caution,
and assured him and the Queen that, though we felt obliged to pay the
visit, we would watch with care over our men, and do our best to bring
them back in safety. Under God’s blessing we escaped all harm; and our
fifty-four bearers and servants returned with us to the Capital strong
and well.

We were to be absent three weeks. We carried with us one of the large
tents; our portable beds, canteen, camera, surveying instruments,
clothing and stores, with a good supply of Malagasy books: and our Camp
formed a very compact and manageable body of men. The Rev. J. Sibree was
our companion; and by his thorough knowledge of Malagasy and the
readiness of his help, rendered us great service. Mr. Sibree is a
practised surveyor; and in consequence we were able to secure on this
journey a double set of observations for the mapping of the new country.
On Wednesday, June 17th, we left the Capital for Ambohimanga, Mr.
Sibree’s station, twelve miles across the plain, which we reached by
five o’clock. The Queen and Court were still there, enjoying the quiet
of this royal city: and before an hour had passed, one of the officers
came down, to express on the part of all their good wishes for a safe
and prosperous journey, and with kindly thoughtfulness to add a few
comforts to our stores. Our men too found themselves among relatives and
friends; and were so lost in rice and beef and general hospitality, that
it was with difficulty we recovered them the following morning, in
anything like proper time.

The first portion of our journey on Thursday led us into a fine cluster
of villages and churches on the edge of the great northern moor, and
three hours distant from Ambohimanga: and here our men rested for their
morning meal. Resuming our road we soon left all population behind. The
moor was high, bare and cold. It was not a level; but was scored into
lines of low hills, the forms of which were full of beauty. We crossed
the Zabo, the fountains of which we had seen among the round hills of
Ambátovóry and Angavokely, many miles to the south-east: it has a
strong, full stream of water and is one of the four chief tributaries
which form the Betsiboka river. All day on these high lands the
south-east wind blew hard and cold, and our poor bearers suffered
greatly. At five o’clock we reached Ambatomainty, a village of twelve
houses, but without house or chapel in which we could rest. Our tent was
soon set up; and bravely stood the wild wind which blew all night. And
when we were fairly enclosed, and the tea-table was duly arranged (on
three overland trunks) we felt snug and comfortable.

On Friday morning a thick fog lay on the hills and we could scarcely see
our road. When it lifted we saw on the east of the Ambatomainty ridge a
long, unbroken valley coming from the moors on the south-east and going
away north-west, full of rice, and drained by the Tsárasáhatra, which,
like the Zabo, has its springs in the buttresses of Angavokely. At this
point both rivers are small. Near by are two small villages, Mangatany
with one of our churches; and Andrainarivo, with a Roman Catholic
chapel. Then came three beautiful patches of wood; “Boulder Glen;” and a
small stream with two cascades. High hills, covered with wood showed
themselves to the east. After a journey of fifteen miles over a country
thoroughly bare and unpeopled, we mounted a lofty hill,
Ambóhitsitâkatra, which gave us a fine prospect on every side. We fixed
its position, with ease, by bearings from seven of the principal hills
of Imerina: and made it the starting point of new positions to the north
and west. On the west we had the deep valleys of Anátivólo: and the high
hill of Vohiléna. On the south-east was the lofty cone of
Ambóhitrakóholáhy, above the Beforona Wall: and to the east lay a great
gneiss ridge covered with forest, which forms the western boundary of
Ankay.

One interesting feature of our position was this. The gneiss hill on
which we stood is on the watershed of the island: it forms part of the
edge of the great granite moors, which go south to Angavokely: and
beneath us on the east, was a broad basin, scored in all directions, a
portion of that vast sedimentary clay region, which forms Ankay. It
looked like network. This basin is drained by the river Mananára; it is
enclosed between gneiss ridges: is full of rice fields and has a large
cluster of villages. Early in the afternoon we reached the village of
Anjozorobé; and took up our quarters in its neat chapel.

The place was wholly unknown to us. We had only its name in Grandidier’s
map and on our list of native church stations. It proved a spot full of
interest. The pastor of the church was a devoted, active worker; the
school children were full of life and intelligence; and the congregation
and its neighbours were striving to make progress in the knowledge and
practice of their new faith. They gave us a warm welcome: and as they
had not seen an Englishman’s face for five years, and entreated us to
spend the Sabbath with them, we had no difficulty in so doing.

Saturday was a busy day. Mr. Sibree examined the school children. We
visited together a high hill to the northward to take bearings:
photographed the village and the ravine of the river; and attended to a
large number of patients. The village is built on a high clay hill: it
contains seventy houses with a population of less than four hundred
souls; and the usual complement of fowls and pigs. The prospect from the
chapel was very fine. To the north were high wooded hills. Beneath us to
the west was the basin of the river, which wound through it with the
most graceful bends: and the edges of the basin, and its numerous
cuttings were curved with such beautiful lines, as made it certain that
the place had been formed by running water, and was at one time a
portion of a great lake. The river Mananára is here a hundred and
fourteen feet wide, from two to five feet deep, and runs with a strong
and rapid stream. It is crossed by a fixed bridge in two spans: each
span being composed of three balks of timber of a scantling of eighteen
inches by sixteen. We had seen the fountains of this fine river near
Ambatomena: where they water one of the largest rice fields in all
Imerina and feed some five thousand human beings. We found with interest
that the population of this basin are closely connected with the people
of Ambatomena and its neighbourhood.

We spent a delightful Sunday with them. At the outset came some twenty
patients, suffering chiefly from chills and fever. The congregation was
large for the place, and additions from distant villages kept coming in
till near the close of the service: when the place was thoroughly filled
with over three hundred people. Our “native chaplain,” who had helped us
so much on the Itasy journey, preached the first sermon: then Mr. Sibree
took for his text “God so loved the world, that He gave His only
begotten Son.” Very earnest and intelligent listeners did the people
prove. One could not look upon their devout demeanour, their clean
dress, the self-respect manifest in the faces of both men and women, and
hear the correct answers given by them to their instructor, without
feeling what a powerful influence the gospel exercises, in elevating,
controlling and sanctifying all life. For five years pastor and people
have been left to themselves, to the teaching of the Spirit, the
teaching of His Word: and this was the result. In the afternoon we all
went over to Ambohiveloma a flourishing village two miles to the
westward: and found another good congregation, with a number of
intelligent and devout young men. Away to the south is the village of
Antoby, where lives a good old blacksmith, who has been the means of
drawing a large number of people to the Saviour. Both in the morning and
afternoon Mr. Sibree and our chaplain taught the congregations two new
hymns and tunes, which have just come out in the Capital and with which
they were greatly delighted.

On Monday, June 22d, we resumed our journey early: and towards midday
approached the great inner belt of forest, which occupies so conspicuous
a position in the geography of the country. It forms the western
boundary of Ankay; appears in wonderful loveliness at Angavo; and
continues in unbroken grandeur, west of the Tanála, and as far south as
Ambóndrombé. It is not forest alone; it is a great gneiss wall, running
down the entire length of the country, the edge of the upper plateau of
the island: and the forest clothes and beautifies it. Near its inner
side we crossed the branches of the small river Manánta, another feeder
of the Betsiboka, running north-west. We crossed the ridge by a noble
pass, Ambárabáram-vato, the “gate of rock.” A climb of five hundred feet
from the clay plain brought us to the summit, a narrow ledge, about
three yards wide: from whence we had an extensive view over the Ankay
plain, as well as over the basin we had just quitted and its
continuation to the west. We found that the hill on which we stood had a
second summit a short distance away, called Ambohimila. We took
important observations, to fix the hill: and through all our trip, its
two lofty peaks proved a conspicuous landmark to which other points
might be referred. We descended by a natural staircase of huge granite
blocks: then reached the clay, which was very wet and slippery; crossed
a low clay ridge, covered with forest, through which our palankins with
difficulty found a way; and at last came into a fine long valley,
bordered with noble hills, whereon the forest seemed thicker, richer and
more lovely than ever. The total descent from the crest of the hill was
1280 feet. It will be remembered that at Angavo (a point on the same
wall further south), our ascent was 1206 feet. On the outer side of the
wall we observed hundreds of rounded buttresses, with deep inlets
between.

Though we had reached a comparative level and had rice fields around us,
we looked in vain for a village, where our men might get their first
meal. And it was two o’clock before we halted at a little cluster of
twelve houses, significantly named Mandánavátsy, “get your tiffin.” To
travellers coming from the Sihánaka territory, in the direction opposite
to our own, it conveys the excellent advice, “Make a good meal before
you go farther; you will find nothing to eat for hours.” We took the
advice on the way back. Having rested for two hours, we continued our
journey; and winding round and through richly wooded hills, we came at
sunset, to a clump of seven houses, called Ambatolampy, with a few
others scattered about. In one or two huts, now deserted, there had been
cases of small-pox, but the men carefully avoided them. Where they all
found accommodation, I was afraid to enquire. I only know that our three
servants slept somehow within the photograph tent, _four feet square_.
We had the eleven feet for ourselves; and had it not been for the
mosquitoes might have slept comfortably.

During the next two days we were still in Upper Ankay. In general the
centre ridges were level; but the plain was deeply scored by the
streams; the gullies having a bend to the north-west. Here and there
were high hills, which we used as surveying stations: and from one of
which we had a fine view of the east wall of Ankay and the valley of the
Mangoro river. The head waters of that river were close to our hill. As
we proceeded, we came upon one village and then another, peopled by the
Sihánaka. The women were fair, and had necklaces and ornaments of beads
and coral: both men and women had numerous strands or plaits in their
hair. These villages smelt badly of the native rum: the little sheds
which contained the stills were very conspicuous; and the ground was
strewn with shreds of the sugar cane from which the rum is made. One
little stream we crossed, with its edging of wood was called Sahamaitso,
“green valley”; pretty indeed, but very different in size and beauty
from the Green River of Colorado. Another, with a fine curve, was the
Ranofotsy, “white river,” flowing over clean sand. Near the village of
Mangatány, we passed through a grove of myrtle trees; and we found
abundance of chlorite and chlorite earth, from whence the village is
named. We were now close to the east wall of Ankay, and turning up a
narrow defile, crossed by a beautiful reef of pure milk-quartz, we
climbed 750 feet to the top of a noble hill of red clay, called
Ambohiborona, “bird hill.” The hill made an admirable station: it
towered high over the country round, and gave us our first clear view of
the Sihanaka district. It stretched northward for nearly forty miles.
The high ridges on the east; the low hills and gullies of Ankay; the
dark green forest line which bounded them; the lighter, softer green of
the reed swamps to the north; the long fingers that came and dipped into
the swamps and were lost; the dark hills on the northern horizon; and
the blue lake of Alaotra at their feet:—these were the objects on which
we gazed long from that lofty tower. This was the country which we had
travelled far to see. Descending the hill, we crossed in succession
three ridges with their intervening levels: had our first experience of
the swamps for which the district is famous: saw how the swampy levels
are being recovered and employed for rice fields: and at last, after a
hard day’s work, mounting a low hill, beheld beneath us the goal for
which we had aimed. In a few minutes we were deposited, by our bearers,
in their best style, at the door of the beautiful chapel of
AMBATONDRAZAKA, the capital of the Sihanaka district.