How marvellous the effects of colour when this magical scene is bathed in the hot rays of the sunshine! Through the transparent air every object is seen with a distinct outline, and the sense of distance is overcome. Where a shadow falls it is defined as sharply as on canvas; there is no softening or confusing mist; you see everything as in a mirror. In the noontide heats all nature is as silent here as in a virgin forest; but when the cool breath of evening begins to be felt, and that luminous darkness, which is the glory of a summer night in Central Africa, spreads softly over the picture, the multiform life of earth swiftly re-awakens; birds and butterflies hover in the air, the monkeys chatter merrily, and leap from bough to bough. The sounds which then break forth—song and hum and murmur, the roll of the river, the din of insects, the cries of the wild beasts—seem all to mingle in one grand vesper hymn, proclaiming the might and majesty of the Creator. These are generally hushed as the night wears on; and then myriads of fireflies and glow-worms light their tiny torches and illuminate the dark with a magical display; while the air is charged with sweet and subtle odours exhaled from the corollas of the plants which open only during the cool and tranquil hours.
While slowly making her way up the river, Alexina encountered an Egyptian pasha, who was returning with a booty of slaves from a recent razzia. She eagerly implored him to set the unhappy captives free, and when her solicitations failed, purchased eight of the poor creatures, to whom she immediately gave their liberty, supplying them also with provisions. This has been termed an act of Quixotism; it was rather one of generous womanly enthusiasm, and to our thinking redeems the failings of Alexina Tinné’s character—compensates for the follies and frivolities which encumbered her enterprise. Her heart was true to every gentle impulse, and she ceased not to suffer keenly at the sight of the wretched condition of the poor negroes who fell victims to an unholy traffic.
This traffic had aroused such feelings of hatred and revenge in the breasts of the riverine tribes of the Nile, that the passage of the river had become very dangerous, and the journey by land almost impossible. The natives looked upon every white man as a Turk and a slave-dealer; and when a boat appeared on the horizon, mothers cried with terror to their children, “The Tourké, the Tourké are coming!” The scarlet tarbouch, or fez, added to the repulsion. “It is the colour of blood just spilled,” said a negro to his family. “It never fades,” they said; “the Turk renews it constantly in the blood of the poor black men.”