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GENERAL ARTICLES.

A CENTRAL-AFRICAN VILLAGE.
REV. W. C. WILLOUGHBY, LATE OF URAMBO.

THE word "village " is used by most CentralAfrican travellers to describe any collection of native huts, whether few or many. It is a translation of the Kiswahili word mji; and mji is delightfully vague. "Town," "city," "hamlet," and occasionally "house," are equally fair translations of the word; and each, in turn, will be suitable, according to the size or character of the particular place described. Now, the result of all this is a considerable confusion in the mind of the English reader. found among my friends hardly any conception of a Central-African village. "Village" to them, when applied to Central Africa, is in very deed "without form and void." It is much easier, however, to criticise than to rectify.

UJIJI.

I have

Mr. Hutley has given us a sketch of a Central-African village; and I like this sketch because it is different from most others that I have met with. It is none the less true. Two or three huts, a few plantains, a palm or two, a boma (or village fence), the usual tree in the centre, and the picture is complete. Any thing more simple it is difficult to imagine; and you will find it easy, of course, to understand what this village is like. But here comes in the difficulty. This is an Ujiji village, and Ujiji villages have characteristics peculiar to themselves. A glance at the map will serve to remind you that there are a few great countries, or districts rather, between the Zanzibar coast and Tanganyika, — Uzeguha, Ugogo, Unyamwezi, and Ujiji, — and each of these has a more or less distinct type of village.

UZEGUHA.

The first village I ever visited in Uzeguha is still fresh in my memory. We were camped at Mkange, and in the course of an evening walk I found myself following a path which led up to a small village. As we approached it, the path narrowed considerably, and went winding

did the way become, in fact, that I found it difficult to pass a native whom I happened to meet. After following this for two hundred or three hundred yards, I found the path stopped by a barrier of heavy poles, fixed perpendicularly in the ground. Through this barrier there was a small aperture, which was closed at night by short, heavy poles laid horizontally one upon another. Inside this rude gate there was a miniature hut, set apart for the use of the spirits; and then one came to the village proper. It was not large, but it was remarkably clean and well kept. The huts in this village were all of the same pattern, and consisted of a low circular wall of wattles and "mud, surmounted by a conical grass roof, which overhung the wall to a distance of about three feet, and then rested on short forked poles. Like the huts in the sketch, there was a door, but no apology for window or chimney. The great distinction between these villages and those of Ujiji is the shape of the hut. The Ujiji hut has neither wall nor veranda, while these have both.

UGOGO.

Now, the Ugogo village is different altogether. Imagine, if you can, four walls of an indefinite length, say from sixty to one hundred feet, forming a square. These walls are about ten feet high, from ten to fifteen feet thick, and built of the usual wattle and mud. Instead, however, of being solid walls, they are in reality four rows of dwellings, with neither windows nor chimneys, and with all the doors opening into the quadrangle. The outside, consequently, presents the appearance of four walls with an entrance on two sides. If you enter a small village at night, you will find the cattle, sheep, goats, etc., occupying the quadrangle; and if by day, you will be very offensively reminded of its usual occupants. But, if the village is a large one, you will find part of the quadrangle occupied by short rows

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the houses in it are used only by the warriors. The great square inside is covered with very fine circular huts, differing from those in the picture, and differing, also, from those in Uzeguha. They sometimes have a diameter of thirty or forty feet, and are generally built in two concentric circles. The outer wall (wattle and mud, of course) is about five or six feet high; and the inner one about five feet nearer the centre, and of corresponding height. The pointed grass roof is generally high, and very nicely finished, and does not extend beyond the outer wall. I have never seen any huts so beautifully built and so comfortable as those in Unyamwezi. Many of them are beautifully finished inside with a smooth plaster made of fine earth and cow-dung; and, though this may seem a very objectionable coating, it certainly improves the huts. The other kind of village frequently met with in this country

has the same collection of huts as that last referred to, but is surrounded by a tall stockade of young tree-trunks stuck perpendicularly into the ground quite close to one another, and tied in position with the bark of trees. This is by far the most secure fence that I have ever seen around a Central-African village. Mirambo's old capital was of the former kind, but his new capital is of the latter. Let me also say that there is no attempt at plan in the arrangement of the huts; and that the villages also vary in population from a score of inhabitants to several hundreds. Many of them have an outer fence of euphorbia; and, as this is green all the year round, it gives them a very cool and nice appearance.

Of the Ujiji villages I have said little ; partly because you will form a fair idea of them from this picture, and partly because I know less of them. - London Missionary Chronicle.

TWO REVIVALS AMONG THE TELUGUS.
REV. GEORGE N. THOMSSEN, VINUKONDA, INDIA.

I WANT to speak about two revivals, -one
among the Christians, and the other among
the heathen; the one to the glory of God, and
the other to the glory-no, to the shame
of the Devil.

Aug. 14-18, the Ongole Association met with the church of Ongole. All the new stations excepting Baputla were represented. Mr. and Mrs. Bullard were sick, and gone to the hills for rest. The meetings were of a twofold nature: two meetings a day for the natives, for prayer, reading of letters, addresses, admonition, encouragement, etc.; and an evening meeting of the missionaries, for comparing notes and experiences. All had discouragements and encouragements to relate, but the good word from every station is that the great revival is still going on. We have no trouble in getting converts: the only trouble is to sift them, and to train them. The crying need of the hour is education, - popular, vernacular education. The meetings were of great usefulness to all. The native brethren were strengthened, and the great work of self-support was put prominently in the foreground.

The Telugu Mission has been called a big

are dealing with babes in Christ. The most of our converts are babes in understanding, babes in experience, babes in almost every thing excepting physical proportions. The sentiment gaining ground is, "Our state of childhood must go." The missionaries are very thankful to see such an awakening among the Christians. It is not pleasant work to labor among such who have to be taught to wash their faces, to comb their hair, to arrange their clothing properly, and to sweep their houses. Thank God we see great improvement! and if any infidel (or any anti-mission Baptist or Pedo-Baptist) wants to see what Christianity can do for degraded mankind, I invite them to visit with me a hamlet of Christians who were formerly Madigas, and then a hamlet of unconverted heathen of the same caste.

And now about the revival among the heathen. It is a sad revival; but I do not doubt for a moment, but that this revival of fanaticism and superstition will, eventually, be to the glory of God; for God not only makes the wrath of man, but man's foolishness, to praise him.

While I am writing this, a din deafens me.

being blown, goats and sheep are bleating, sky-rockets ascend, fire-crackers explode, people shout and sing. What means this? If it were a patriotic celebration, I for one would love to join them, for the enthusiasm of our glorious Fourth of July is still within me; but, alas! this din, this celebration, makes me unutterably sad. All of this noise is made to implore a goddess of stone to be merciful.

During the last months many houses have been burned. The wily, wicked Brahmans tell the people this is the work of Ankamah. The wrath of this goddess has been incensed, and she is burning up the houses and the crops; and now the people are sacrificing thousands of goats and sheep, spending enormous sums of money, to appease the goddess, and to feed lazy, good-for-nothing Brahmans. The Ankamah temple is back of our mission compound, and so we are disturbed day and night by unearthly sounds. This feast has been in progress for nearly two months, and none can tell when it will come to a close. By this means, we have had an opportunity of preach ing the gospel to thousands who before this have never heard the name of Jesus. We have been sowing the seed; and we fully believe that, in due time, it will germinate and bear fruit.

In my travels during these last months, in almost every village I have been met by bands of people carrying an idol-house on bamboos, bearing torches, and every man, woman, and child having a staff with a bunch of leaves tied to the top. On inquiry, I have been told each band is Rama dandu; i.e., God's army. So far as I can learn, this is a commemorative celebration of the exploits of Rama in his war with the giant Ravanah. It is reported, in Hindu mythology, that Ravanah seduced and abducted Seetama, the wife of Rama. At Vinukonda, the mount of hearing, Rama heard

of this; and seventy-two million monkeys assisted him in the war with Ravanah. This host of monkeys was called Rama dandu, or God's army. These bands of wandering devotees must sleep and eat in three different villages on three successive nights. All castes as well as out-castes are represented in the ranks. The procession moves on, while tomtoms are beaten, and horns and other instruments are played. The people shout and sing, "Rama, as in former days seventy-two million monkeys assisted thee, so we come up to thy help." Many dance, and the contortions of their bodies are frightful to behold.

The Christians are having a hard time of it. They were the tom-tom beaters before their conversion, and the heathen are trying to force them into their former idolatrous employment. They, however, refuse, an in consequence are severely beaten, and generally "boycotted." There is a great perse ation at present; but the Christians, on the whole, are true to their profession, although some of them have not been strong enough to resist the temptations and threats of the heathen.

I am told that for forty years there has not been such a revival of idolatry in this land. What is the cause of it? Fear. Within the past year there has been much disease in the land. Small-pox has been in nearly every village, and thousands have died; cholera is very prevalent at present, and a great drought threatens to bring on a famine; besides, many houses burn almost daily: so it cannot be surprising that the people are filled with fear. Many say, "The mission has brought down the curse of the gods on the land;" but we trust that the Lord will open their eyes, and that many, ere long, will see that what they now regard as a curse is really a great blessing.

A JOURNEY INTO NORTHERN SIAM. REV. J. N. CUSHING, D.D., RANGOON, BURMA.

A FEW days previous to our arrival, Dr. Neis of the French naval service, who had made his way up from Saigon, visited Kenghai. He came ostensibly to investigate the character of

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much to say to the governor about commercial connection with the French in Saigon and Tonquin. It is the policy of France to extend her power in the direction of the Laos states;

become their ruler in due time. This would be a serious misfortune to the people, for French rule seldom seems to seek the wellbeing of the natives. It also opens the way for Roman-Catholic missionaries, whose attitude to Protestant missions is always hostile. As yet, there are no Roman-Catholic missionaries among the Laos, and our Presbyterian brethren have the field entirely to themselves. Dr. Neis did not seem to have made a favorable impression on the officials. They said that he wore a native waist-cloth and jacket all the time that he remained in the city, even when calling upon the chiefs; that he ate whatever was sent him, for he was fed at government expense; and that he drank arrack constantly, and offered it to all his visitors. As all these officials have visited Bangkok several times, and seen something of European life, they felt no respect for a foreigner who abandoned his own customs so completely.

Among the most interesting things connected with our stay at Kenghai were the visits of several Moo-hseû men and women from the mountains, a day's journey to the west. Within the last three years, quite a number of families of this people have left their homes in the mountains of the Kengtung principality in the north, on account of the long-continued fighting growing out of the rebellion of the Saubwa of that principality against the king of Burma, and have emigrated to the Laos country. In visiting the city, they discard their peculiar tribal costume, which consists of a long blue coat reaching below the knees, and trimmed with a border of many bits of cloth of different colors, resembling in pattern fine square patchwork, and of a pair of loose trousers. Instead, they wear the coarse blue jacket and waist-cloth of the poorer class of the Laos, and have nothing peculiar except some prettily braided bamboo necklaces, -a part of which were braided on to the throat, and could not be removed.

The Moo-hseûs call themselves Lahoo, and are noted for their quiet, peaceable character. Like the Quakers, they never fight. It is a principle handed down from the past, that they are never to engage in contest with others. Strangely enough, although their villages in the north are intermingled with those of the savage Lewas, they are never molested by their fierce neighbors.

hseû visitors, their people build houses with wooden frames and a rather flat roof. The fireplace is put in the centre of the house, and the inmates sleep on either side of it east and west, but not north and south. Like the Karens, they use large bamboo buckets for drawing water, have small reed instruments of music, and drink intoxicating liquors. Witchcraft exists among them; and the supposed witches are driven forth mercilessly, and their houses are burned. They are spirit-worshippers. Their offerings consist of pounded rice, placed upon a bamboo altar; but no flesh of any kind is ever sacrificed. In each village there are soothsayers, who profess to have a peculiar knowledge of the spirits, and reveal their will in sickness or misfortune.

Their marriage customs have some peculiarity. A young man sees a young woman whom he likes, and asks her privately to be his wife. If she consents, he seeks the permission of her parents. Should they favor his request, two or three elders of the village, in the presence of friends of both parties, ask the man if he will cultivate his fields properly, and support his wife. After his assent has been given, the bridegroom and bride, who sit side by side during the ceremony, offer a present of a platter of tea, and torches; and, clasping their hands in a reverent manner, ask for the elders' blessing as an earnest of health and happiness. A feast closes the wedding. The pair must live two years with the bride's parents, and one year with the bridegroom's parents, before they are allowed to make a house and home for themselves. If they have no children, they must remain at the house of the parents of one or the other of them.

A man is allowed only one wife; but a husband is allowed to divorce his wife, or a wife her husband. In either case, the divorcer must pay forty rupees to the divorcee. Boys fall to the father, and girls to the mother. If there is money, two-thirds falls to the man, and one-third to the woman. The woman, even though she be an adulteress, retains the house; and the man has no choice but to leave it.

The women do not work in the fields except when the rice-harvest is reaped: they spend their time in cooking, weaving, and other feminine employments. One of our visitors told the following curious story: Far away in the

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