nd her were gathered nephews,
nieces, and other relatives, and the dignitaries and grandees of her
kingdom.

The minister who had conducted Madame Pfeiffer and her companion--M.
Lambert, a French adventurer, who played a conspicuous part in the
affairs of Madagascar--addressed a short speech to the queen; after which
the visitors had to bow thrice, and to repeat the words, "Esaratsara
tombokoc" (We salute you cordially); to which she replied, "Esaratsara"
(We salute you). They then turned to the left to salute King Radama's
tomb, which was close at hand, with three similar bows; afterwards
returning to their former position in front of the balcony, and making
three more. M. Lambert next held up a gold piece of eighty francs value,
and placed it in the hands of the minister who had introduced them. This
gift, which is expected from every stranger when first presented, is
called "Monosina." The queen then asked M. Lambert if he wished to put
any question to her, or if he needed anything, and also addressed a
remark or two to Madame Pfeiffer. The bowings and greetings were then
resumed; obeisance was paid to King Radama's monument; and the visitors,
as they retired, were again cautioned not to put the left foot first over
the threshold.

The royal palace is (or was) a very large timber building, consisting of
a ground-floor and two stories, surmounted by a singularly high-pitched
roof. Each story is surrounded by a broad gallery. The roof is
supported on wooden pillars, eighty feet high, and rises forty feet above
them, resting in the centre on a pillar not less than a hundred and
twenty feet in height. All these columns are fashioned each from a
single trunk; and when it is considered, says our authority, that the
forests containing trees of sufficient size for this purpose lie fifty or
sixty miles from the capital, that the roads are nowhere paved, and in
some places are quite impassable, and that all the pillars are dragged to
the capital without the help of a beast of burden or any single machine,
and are afterwards wrought and set up with the simplest tools, the
erection of this palace may justly be called a gigantic undertaking, and
the palace itself ranked among the wonders of the world.

The government of Madagascar has always been Draconian in its severity,
and the penalty exacted for almost every offence is blood. Some of the
unfortunates are burned; others are hurled over a high rock; others
buried a