Notes Taken During Travels in Africa
9781465681294
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
On Saturday, August 29, 1835, we left London by the mail, and arrived the morning following at Exeter, where we went to the cathedral, which Abou called one of the bishops’ churches. We proceeded the same evening to Falmouth, which we reached on Monday 31st. During the journey, Abou’s remarks were highly creditable to him; he expressed himself quite astonished at the rate of travelling, which he had ascertained by comparing the mile-stones we had passed with the time, as indicated by a watch; nor was he less struck with the quickness of changing horses, the punctuality in the arrival of the mail, and the manner in which one bag is delivered, and another received, while the coach is going on. In the whole country, he said very prettily, no place for more than a mile could be seen without a settlement; all is productive: no misery. He wound up his reflections with the words,—‘Good king! good people!—African people all blind: not know their own good, else they would ask Englishmen to come and teach them.’ On Tuesday, Sept. 1, I went with Abou to see the Castle, where the officer on duty put some men through the manual and platoon exercise, and light infantry movements, much to the amusement of Abou, who was not less gratified with the feats of horsemanship exhibited by a company that performed the same evening at the theatre. On Thursday, Sept. 3d, we went on board the Sarah Nigritia, and got off at one P.M., with the wind a-head and a considerable swell, which produced its usual effect upon many of the passengers, and myself among the number, but poor Abou was the worst of all; during the whole voyage he was absolutely wretched, and quite unable to rally,—a rather bad omen of his power to bear up, should greater difficulties present themselves on land. On Monday, Sept. 7, we passed Cape Finisterre, running along the shore in comparatively smooth water, but with a heavy swell; and on the 9th we made Cape St. Vincent, and saw, at six P.M. on the morning following, Cadiz rising from the dark blue wave; and at half-past seven anchored in the bay. Some time before the boat came off to give us pratique I had gone ashore with Abou. After a good breakfast at thePosada Inglaterra, I proceeded to the Franciscan convent and chapel, and from thence to the cathedral. The last is a very beautiful building, but rather too gaudy, and in not the best taste of architecture. I returned to an omelette and a segar, and water and rien de plus; strolled afterwards through the town, celebrated alike for mostachas and mantillas, for playful fans, bronze faces, and pretty feet.
