As in the Brazilian Rio de Sao Francisco, the few miles between the mouth and the hill-region cause a radical change of climate.  Here the suns are never too hot, nor are the moons too cold; the nights fall soft and misty, the mornings bring the blessing of freshness; and I was never weary of enjoying the effects of dying and reviving day.  The most delicate sharpness and purity of outline took the place of meridian reek and blur; trees, rocks, and chalets were picked out with an utter disregard to the perspective of distance, and the lowest sounds were distinctly heard in the hard, clear atmosphere.  The damp and fetid vegetation of the Coast wholly disappeared.  By the benefit of purest air and water, with long walks and abundant palm wine from the trees hung with calabashes, the traces of “Nanny Po” soon vanished; appetite and sleep returned, nightly cramps were things unknown, and a healthy glow overspread the clammy, corpse-like skin.  When the Lower Congo shall become the emporium of lawful trade, the white face will find a sanatorium in these portals of the Sierra del Crystal,—­the vine will flourish, the soil will produce the cereals as well as the fruits and vegetables of Europe, and this region will become one of the “Paradises of Africa.”

The banzas of Congo-land show the constitution of native society, which, as in Syria, and indeed in most barbarous and semi-barbarous places, is drawn together less by reciprocal wants than by the ties of blood.  Here families cannot disperse, and thus each hamlet is a single house, with its patriarch for president and judge.  When the population outgrows certain limits, instead of being confounded with its neighbours, it adds a settlement upon neighbouring ground, and removal is the work of a single day.  The towns are merely big villages, whose streets are labyrinths of narrow pathways, often grass-grown, because each man builds in his own way.  Some translate the word “Banza” by city, unaware that Central African people do not build cities.  Professor Smith rightly explains it “a village, which with them means a paterfamilias, and his private dependants.”  So the maligned Douville (i. 159)—­“On donne le nom de banza a la ville ou reside le chef d’une peuplade ou nation negre.  On l’attribue aussi a l’enceinte que le chef ou souverain habite avec les femmes et sa cour.  Dans ce dernier sens le mot banza veut dire palais du chef.”

Our situation is charming, high enough to be wholesome, yet in a sheltered valley, an amphitheatre opening to the south-east or rainy quarter; the glorious trees, here scattered, there gathered in clumps and impenetrable bosquets, show the exuberant fertility of the soil.  Behind and above the village rises a dwarf plateau, rich with plantains and manioc.  After the deserted state of the river banks,—­the effect of kidnapping,—­we are surprised to find so populous a region.  Within cannon-shot, there are not less than twelve villages, with a total, perhaps, of 2,400 souls.