been ridiculous to be afraid of such a diminutive thing,
but there was an expression in her countenance so peculiarly
repulsive, unwomanly, and hideous, that on approaching their hut,
they felt a very unusual and disagreeable sensation steal over them.
The descriptions of an elf or a black dwarf in the Arabian Nights
Entertainments, or modern romances, would serve well to portray the
form and lineaments of this singular little being.

It was market day, and Richard Lander took a walk in the evening to
the place where the market was held, but the crowd that gathered
round him was so great, as to compel him to return home much sooner,
than he had intended. If he happened to stand still even for a
moment, the people pressed by thousands to get close to him, and if
he attempted to go on, they tumbled over one another to get out of
his way, overturning standings and calabashes, throwing down their
owners, and scattering their property about in all directions. The
blacksmiths in particular, welcomed him by clashing their iron tools
against each other, and the drummers rejoiced by thumping violently
upon one end of their instruments. A few women and children ran from
him in a fright, but the majority less timid, approached as near as
they could, to catch a glimpse of the first white man they had ever
seen. His appearance seemed to interest them amazingly, for they
tittered and wished him well, and turned about to titter again. On
returning, the crowd became more dense than ever, and drove all
before them like a torrent, dogs, goats, sheep, and poultry were
borne along against their will, which terrified them so much, that
nothing could be heard but noises of the most lamentable description;
children screamed, dogs yelled, sheep and goats bleated most
piteously, and fowls cackled, and fluttered from among the crowd.
Never was such a hubbub made before in the interior of Africa, by the
appearance of a white man, and happy indeed was that white man to
shelter himself from all this uproar in his own yard, whither the
multitude dared not follow him.

The widows of the deceased chief of Keeshee, daily set apart a
portion of the twenty-four hours to cry for their bereavement, and
pray to their gods. On this evening, they began in the same sad,
mournful tone, which is commonly heard on similar occasions all over
the country. Richard Lander asked their interpreter, why the women
grieved so bitterly, he answered quickly, "What matter