'Sanitation,' however, is loudly called for; and if cholera come here it will do damage. The southern part of the narrow ledge bearing the town, and including the French establishment, is poisoned by a fetid, stagnant pool, full of sirens, shrimps, and anthropophagous crabs, which after heavy rains cuts a way through its sand-bar to the sea. This _marigot_ is the 'little shallow river Axim,' the Achombene of Barbot, which the people call Awaminísu ('Ghost's or Deadman's Water'). To the north also there are two foul nullahs, the Eswá and the Besáon, which make the neighbourhood pestilential. In days to come the latter will be restored to its old course east of the town and thrown into the Awaminísu, whose mouth will be kept open throughout the year. The eastern suburbs, so to call them, want clearing of offal and all manner of impurities. Beyond the original valley of the Besáon the ground rises and bears the wall of trees seen from the offing. There is, therefore, plenty of building-room, and long heads have bought up all the land in that direction. Mr. Macarthy, of the School of Mines, owns many concessions in this part of the country.
All the evils here noted can easily be remedied. As in the Cairo of Mohammed Ali's day, every house-holder should be made responsible for the cleanliness of his surroundings. The Castle-prison, too, rarely lodges fewer than a dozen convicts. These men should be taken away from 'shot-drill' and other absurdities of the tread-mill type, which diversify pleasant, friar-like lives of eating and drinking, smoking, sleeping, and chatting with one another. Unfortunately, humanitarianism does not allow the lash without reference to head-quarters. Labour must therefore be light; still it would suffice to dig up the boulders from the main thoroughfares, to clean the suburbs, and to open the mouths of the fetid and poisonous lagoons.
Mr. William M. Grant, the clever and active agent of our friend Mr. James Irvine, came on board to receive us, and housed us and our innumerable belongings in his little bungalow facing 'Water Street.' We found life at Axim pleasant enough. Even in these days of comparative barbarism, or at best of incipient civilisation, the station is not wholly desert. The agents of the several firms are hospitable in the extreme. Generally also a manager of the inner mines, or a new comer, enlarges the small circle. There is a flavour of England in 'A. B. and Co., licensed dealers in wine and spirits, wholesale and retail,' inscribed upon boards over the merchants' doors; also in the lawn-tennis, which I have seen played in a space called by courtesy a square: Cameron, by-the-bye, has hired it, despite some vexatious local opposition, and it will be a fine _locale_ for the Axim Hotel now being opened. Sunday is known as a twenty-four hours of general idleness and revelry: your African Christian is meticulous upon the subject of 'Sabbath;' he will do as little work as possible for six days, and scrupulously repose upon the seventh. Whether he 'keeps it holy' is quite another matter, into which I do not care to enquire. Service- and school-hours are announced by a manner of peripatetic belfry--a negroling walking about with a cracked muffin-bell. From the chapel, which adjoins some wattled huts, the parsonage, surges at times a prodigious volume of sound, the holloaing of hymns and the bellowing of anthems; and, between whiles, the sable congregation, ranged on benches and gazing out of the windows, 'catches it 'ot and strong' from the dark-faced Wesleyan missionary-schoolmaster.