him off at once; he became purple in the face, foamed at the mouth, gesticulated violently, cursed at me, and was only prevented from proceeding to further extremities by my rapid exit. Next day his ship did capsize. He sailed from Lagos soon after, and I have been told that neither he nor his vessel have ever been heard of since. In any other part of the world but West Africa such a man as this would have been kept under restraint. His fits of mania were, I believe, the result of sun-stroke.
I was out driving round the town with a German friend one day when he pulled up at an inclosure, and said he would show me something that I would not see anywhere else on the coast. He took me in and showed me a merry-go-round, and I was sufficiently surprised to gratify him. What could have induced any one to bring such a thing out to West Africa? It was one of the old kind, worked by hand; an organ stood by, and I could almost imagine I smelt the sawdust and gingerbread, and heard the shouts and cries with which such machines were associated in my memory. I believe the speculation did not pay, the natives all wanted to ride for nothing, and the Europeans did not want to ride at all. The yard was full of Yoruba women, looking with wistful eyes at the wooden horses and triumphal cars, so we
