A Man May Talk And Entreat, But Though He May Have Drafts, Cheques, Circular Notes, Letters Of Credit, A Carte Blanche To Get What He Wants, Out Of Every Dollar Must, Be Deducted Twenty, Twenty-Five And Thirty Cents, So I Was Told, And So Was My Experience.

What a pity there is no branch-bank here!

I had intended to have gone into Africa incognito. But the fact that a white man, even an American, was about to enter Africa was soon known all over Zanzibar. This fact was repeated a thousand times in the streets, proclaimed in all shop alcoves, and at the custom-house. The native bazaar laid hold of it, and agitated it day and night until my departure. The foreigners, including the Europeans, wished to know the pros and cons of my coming in and going out.

My answer to all questions, pertinent and impertinent, was, I am going to Africa. Though my card bore the words

________________________________________ | | | HENRY M. STANLEY. | | | | | | New York Herald. | |________________________________________|

very few, I believe, ever coupled the words `New York Herald' with a search after "Doctor Livingstone." It was not my fault, was it?

Ah, me! what hard work it is to start an expedition alone! What with hurrying through the baking heat of the fierce relentless sun from shop to shop, strengthening myself with far-reaching and enduring patience far the haggling contest with the livid-faced Hindi, summoning courage and wit to brow-beat the villainous Goanese, and match the foxy Banyan, talking volumes throughout the day, correcting estimates, making up accounts, superintending the delivery of purchased articles, measuring and weighing them, to see that everything was of full measure and weight, overseeing the white men Farquhar and Shaw, who were busy on donkey saddles, sails, tents, and boats for the Expedition, I felt, when the day was over, as though limbs and brain well deserved their rest. Such labours were mine unremittingly for a month.

Having bartered drafts on Mr. James Gordon Bennett to the amount of several thousand dollars for cloth, beads, wire, donkeys, and a thousand necessaries, having advanced pay to the white men, and black escort of the Expedition, having fretted Capt. Webb and his family more than enough with the din of preparation, and filled his house with my goods, there was nothing further to do but to leave my formal adieus with the Europeans, and thank the Sultan and those gentlemen who had assisted me, before embarking for Bagamoyo.

The day before my departure from Zanzibar the American Consul, having just habited himself in his black coat, and taking with him an extra black hat, in order to be in state apparel, proceeded with me to the Sultan's palace. The prince had been generous to me; he had presented me with an Arab horse, had furnished me with letters of introduction to his agents, his chief men, and representatives in the interior, and in many other ways had shown himself well disposed towards me.

The palace is a large, roomy, lofty, square house close to the fort, built of coral, and plastered thickly with lime mortar. In appearance it is half Arabic and half Italian. The shutters are Venetian blinds painted a vivid green, and presenting a striking contrast to the whitewashed walls. Before the great, lofty, wide door were ranged in two crescents several Baluch and Persian mercenaries, armed with curved swords and targes of rhinoceros hide. Their dress consisted of a muddy-white cotton shirt, reaching to the ancles, girdled with a leather belt thickly studded with silver bosses.

As we came in sight a signal was passed to some person inside the entrance. When within twenty yards of the door, the Sultan, who was standing waiting, came down the steps, and, passing through the ranks, advanced toward us, with his right hand stretched out, and a genial smile of welcome on his face. On our side we raised our hats, and shook hands with him, after which, doing according as he bade us, we passed forward, and arrived on the highest step near the entrance door. He pointed forward; we bowed and arrived at the foot of an unpainted and narrow staircase to turn once more to the Sultan. The Consul, I perceived, was ascending sideways, a mode of progression which I saw was intended for a compromise with decency and dignity. At the top of the stairs we waited, with our faces towards the up-coming Prince. Again we were waved magnanimously forward, for before us was the reception-hall and throne-room. I noticed, as I marched forward to the furthest end, that the room was high, and painted in the Arabic style, that the carpet was thick and of Persian fabric, that the furniture consisted of a dozen gilt chairs and a chandelier,

We were seated; Ludha Damji, the Banyan collector of customs, a venerable-looking old man, with a shrewd intelligent face, sat on the right of the Sultan; next to him was the great Mohammedan merchant Tarya Topan who had come to be present at the interview, not only because he was one of the councillors of His Highness, but because he also took a lively interest in this American Expedition. Opposite to Ludha sat Capt. Webb, and next to him I was seated, opposite Tarya Topan. The Sultan sat in a gilt chair between the Americans and the councillors. Johari the dragoman stood humbly before the Sultan, expectant and ready to interpret what we had to communicate to the Prince.

The Sultan, so far as dress goes, might be taken for a Mingrelian gentleman, excepting, indeed, for the turban, whose ample folds in alternate colours of red, yellow, brown, and white, encircled his head. His long robe was of dark cloth, cinctured round the waist with his rich sword-belt, from which was suspended a gold-hilted scimitar, encased in a scabbard also enriched with gold: His legs and feet were bare, and had a ponderous look about them, since he suffered from that strange curse of Zanzibar - elephantiasis.

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