DR LIVINGSTONE'S LAST JOURNALS

Globe, Volume III, Issue 291, 18 May 1875, Page 3

DR LIVINGSTONE'S LAST JOURNALS

From a review in the Argus we extract the following passage;—

In the Manyeuma country, we met with a new mammal, the Mamba fish, which " has breasts with milk, and utters a cry !" Livingstone also killed an elephant with three tusks, all of good size. Here, too, he fell in with the soko, which is believed >o be an entirely new species of chimpanzee, and are supposed by the natives to be their deceased kinsmen revived. The engraved portrait of a young soko, represents him with a face dreadfully like that of some of the ruffians in certain of John Leech's caricatures; although the expression of the chimpanzee is scarcely so repulsive as that of some of the faces in " A Court for King Cholera." We borrow from a second volume of the "Journals' the following description of the soko:—

" Four gorillas or sokos were killed yesterday: an extensive grass-burning forced them out of their usual haunt, and coming on the plain they were speared. They often go erect, but place the hands on the head, as if to steady the body. When seen thus, the soko is an ungainly beast. The most sentimental young lady would not call him ' a dear,' but a bandy-legged, pot bellied, low-looking vagabond, without a particle of the gentleman in him. Other animals, especially the antelopes, are graceful, and it is pleasant to see them, either at rest or in motion; the. natives also are well mide, lithe and comely to behold; but the soko, if large, would do well to stand for a picture of the devil. * " He takes away my appetite by his disgusting beastiality of appearance. His light-yellow face Bhows off his ugly whiskers and faint apology for a beard ; the forehead villanously low. with high ears, is well in the background of the great dog-mouth ; the teeth are slightly human, but the canines show the beast by their large development. The hands, or rather the fingers, are like those of the natives. The flesh of the feet is yellow, and the eagerness with which the Manyuema devour it leaves the impression that eating sokos was the first stage by which they arrived at being cannibals ; they say the flesh is delicious. The soko is represented by some to be extremely knowing, successfully stalking men and women while at their work, kidnapping children, and running up trees with them —he seems to be amused by the sight of the young native in his arms, but comes down when tempted by a bunch of bananas, and as he lifts that, drops the child Numbers of them come down in the forest, within a hundred yards of our camp, and would be unknown but for giving tongue like foxhounds—this is their nearest approach to speech. A man hoeing was stalked by a soko, and seized ; he roared out, but the soko giggled and grinned, and left him as if he had done it in play. A child caught up by a soko is often abused by being pinched an d scratched, and let fall. . . • Sokos collect together, aDd make a drumming noise, some say with hollow trees, then burst forth into loud yells, which are well imitated by the natives' embryotic music. If a man has no spear the soko goes away satisfied, but if wounded, he seizes the wrist, lops off the fingers, and spits them out, slaps the cheeks of his victim, and bites without breaking the skin. He draws out a spear (but never uses it), and takes some leaves and stuffs them into his wound to staunch the blood ; he does not wish an encounter with an armed man. He sees women do him no harm, and never molests them ; a man without a spear is .nearly safe from him. They beat hollow trees as drums with hands, and then scream as music to it; when men hear them they go to the sokos ; but sokos never go to men with hostility. Manyuema say, ' Soko is a man and nothing bad in him.' "They live in communities of about ten, each having his own female. An intruder from another camp is beaten off with their fists and loud yells. If one tries to seize the female of another, he is caught on the ground, and all unite in boxing and biting the offender. A male often carries a child, especially if they are passing from one patch of forest to another over a grassy space ; he then gives it to the mother." The inclination which the sokos display towards instrumental music is common, however, to many varieties of the monkey tribe. There is one, the black chimpanzee, Troglodytes niger ( which uses drumsticks, employing their hands and feet with equal dexterity in wielding them. Tame monkeys can be easily taught theuße of the castanets; and it is a curious circumstance, as M. Houzeau has pointed out in the work which we recently reviewed, that in all parts of the world the drum is the first musical instru-

ment constructed by the savage, it being, like that of the chimpauzee, nothing more, in its primitive form, than a hollow cylinder of wood; while the cry of the lowest races of man in the Andarnvi Inlands, for example, is indistinguishable from that «.•£ the chimpanzee.

Livingstone was a born traveller, fitted for it no less by his iron constitution than by the versatility of his resources, his various knowledge, his equanimity of mind, and his power of adapting himself to uovel circumstances. The prospect of entering into unknown regions, even although it involved the confronting of perils of no ordinary magnitude, exhilarated his spirits and braced his energies. When he was setting out on the arduous journeys recorded in these volumes we find him writing: " The mere animal pleasure of travelling in a wild unexplored country is very great. When on lands a couple of thousand feet elevation, brisk exercise imparts elasticity to the muscles, fresh and healthy blood circulates through the brain, the mind works well, the eye is clear, the step is firm, and a day's exertion always makes the evening's repose thoroughly enioyable. " We have usually the stimulus of remote chances of danger either from beasts or men. Our sympathies are drawn out towards our humble hardy companions by a community of interests, and, it may be, of perils, which make us all friends. Nothing but the most pitiable puerility would lead any manly heart to make their inferiority a theme for self-exaltation; however, that is often done, as with the vague idea that we can, by magnifying their deficiencies, demonstrate our immaculate perfections. " The effect of travel on a man whose heart is in the right place is that the mind is made more self-reliant; it becomes more confident of its own resources—there is greater presence of mine. The body is soon wellknit; the muscles of the limbs grow as hard as a board, and seem to have no fat; the countenance is bronzed, and there is no dyspepsia. Afiica is a most wonderful country for appetite, and it is only when one gloats over marrow bones or elephants' feet that indigestion is possible. No doubt much toil is involved, and fatigue of which travellers in the more temperate climes can form but a faint conception; but the sweat of one's brow is no longer a curse when one works for God; it proves a tonic to the system, and is actually a blessing. No one can truly appreciate the charm of repose unless he has undergone severe exertion."