So I Determined To Leave That
Road Severely Alone, And Circumnavigate The Next Town By A Road That
Leaves Esoon Going W.N.W., Which Struck The Rembwe By N'dorko, I Was
Told, And Then Follow Up The Bank Of The River Until I Picked Up The
Sub-Factory.
Subsequent experience did not make one feel inclined
to take out a patent for this plan, but at the time in Esoon it
looked nice enough.
Some few of the more highly cultured inhabitants here could speak
trade English a little, and had been to the Rembwe, and were quite
intelligent about the whole affair. They had seen white men. A
village they formerly occupied nearer the Rembwe had been burnt by
them, on account of a something that had occurred to a Catholic
priest who visited it. They were, of course, none of them
personally mixed up in this sad affair, so could give no details of
what had befallen the priest. They knew also "the Move," which was
a great bond of union between us. "Was I a wife of them Move white
man," they inquired - "or them other white man?" I civilly said them
Move men were my tribe, and they ought to have known it by the look
of me. They discussed my points of resemblance to "the Move white
man," and I am ashamed to say I could not forbear from smiling, as I
distinctly recognised my friends from the very racy description of
their personal appearance and tricks of manner given by a lively
Esoonian belle who had certainly met them.
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