I Have Not Been Lying Down Five Minutes On The Plank That
Serves For A Sofa By Day And A Bed By Night, When Charles Comes
Knocking At The Door.
He wants tobacco.
"Missionary man no fit to
let we have firewood unless we buy em." Give Charles a head and
shut him out again, and drop off to sleep again for a quarter of an
hour, then am aroused by some enterprising sightseers pushing open
the window-shutters; when I look round there are a mass of black
heads sticking through the window-hole. I tell them respectfully
that the circus is closed for repairs, and fasten up the shutters,
but sleep is impossible, so I turn out and go and see what those men
of mine are after. They are comfortable enough round their fire,
with their clothes suspended on strings in the smoke above them, and
I envy them that fire. I then stroll round to see if there is
anything to be seen, but the scenery is much like that you would
enjoy if you were inside a blanc-mange. So as it is now growing
dark I return to my room and light candles, and read Dr. Gunther on
Fishes. Room becomes full of blacks. Unless you watch the door,
you do not see how it is done. You look at a corner one minute and
it is empty, and the next time you look that way it is full of rows
of white teeth and watching eyes.
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