and look with disfavour upon changes. Their legal tender is

silver, cut into little squares of different weights; gold is
the baser coin, and is about of the same value as our silver.

It is, however, much prized for its beauty, and largely used
for ornaments and decorative purposes. Most of the trade, however,

is carried on by means of sale and barter, payment being made
in kind. Agriculture is the great business of the country, and

is really well understood and carried out, most of the available
acreage being under cultivation. Great attention is also given

to the breeding of cattle and horses, the latter being unsurpassed
by any I have ever seen either in Europe or Africa.

The land belongs theoretically to the Crown, and under the Crown
to the great lords, who again divide it among smaller lords,

and so on down to the little peasant farmer who works his forty
'reestu' (acres) on a system of half-profits with his immediate

lord. In fact the whole system is, as I have said, distinctly
feudal, and it interested us much to meet with such an old friend

far in the unknown heart of Africa.
The taxes are very heavy. The State takes a third of a man's

total earnings, and the priesthood about five per cent on the
remainder. But on the other hand, if a man through any cause

falls into bona fide misfortune the State supports him in the
position of life to which he belongs. If he is idle, however,

he is sent to work on the Government undertakings, and the State
looks after his wives and children. The State also makes all

the roads and builds all town houses, about which great care
is shown, letting them out to families at a small rent. It also

keeps up a standing army of about twenty thousand men, and provides
watchmen, etc. In return for their five per cent the priests

attend to the service of the temples, carry out all religious
ceremonies, and keep schools, where they teach whatever they

think desirable, which is not very much. Some of the temples
also possess private property, but priests as individuals cannot

hold property.
And now comes a question which I find some difficulty in answering.

Are the Zu-Vendi a civilized or barbarous people? Sometimes
I think the one, sometimes the other. In some branches of art

they have attained the very highest proficiency. Take for instance
their buildings and their statuary. I do not think that the

latter can be equalled either in beauty or imaginative power
anywhere in the world, and as for the former it may have been

rivalled in ancient Egypt, but I am sure that it has never been
since. But, on the other hand, they are totallyignorant of

many other arts. Till Sir Henry, who happened to know something
about it, showed them how to do it by mixing silica and lime,

they could not make a piece of glass, and their crockery is rather
primitive. A water-clock is their nearest approach to a watch;

indeed, ours delighted them exceedingly. They know nothing about
steam, electricity, or gunpowder, and mercifully for themselves

nothing about printing or the penny post. Thus they are spared
many evils, for of a truth our age has learnt the wisdom of the

old-world saying, 'He who increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.'
As regards their religion, it is a natural one for imaginative

people who know no better, and might therefore be expected to
turn to the sun and worship him as the all-Father, but it cannot

justly be called elevating or spiritual. It is true that they
do sometimes speak of the sun as the 'garment of the Spirit',

but it is a vague term, and what they really adore is the fiery
orb himself. They also call him the 'hope of eternity', but

here again the meaning is vague, and I doubt if the phrase conveys
any very clear impression to their minds. Some of them do indeed

believe in a future life for the good -- I know Nyleptha does
firmly -- but it is a private faith arising from the promptings

of the spirit, not an essential of their creed. So on the whole
I cannot say that I consider this sun-worship as a religion indicative

of a civilized people, however magnificent and imposing its ritual,
or however moral and high-sounding the maxims of its priests,

many of whom, I am sure, have their own opinions on the whole
subject; though of course they have nothing but praise for a

system which provides them with so many of the good things of
this world.

There are now only two more matters to which I need allude --
namely, the language and the system of calligraphy. As for

the former, it is soft-sounding, and very rich and flexible.
Sir Henry says that it sounds something like modern Greek,

but of course it has no connection with it. It is easy to acquire,
being simple in its construction, and a peculiar quality about it

is its euphony, and the way in which the sound of the words
adapts itself to the meaning to be expressed. Long before

we mastered the language, we could frequently make out what
was meant by the ring of the sentence. It is on this account

that the language lends itself so well to poetical declamation,
of which these remarkable people are very fond. The Zu-Vendi

alphabet seems, Sir henry says, to be derived, like every other
known system of letters, from a Phoenician source, and therefore

more remotely still from the ancient Egyptian hieratic writing.
Whether this is a fact I cannot say, not being learned in such

matters. All I know about it is that their alphabet consists
of twenty-two characters, of which a few, notably B, E, and O,

are not very unlike our own. The whole affair is, however, clumsy
and puzzling. {Endnote 13} But as the people of Zu-Vendi are

not given to the writing of novels, or of anything except business
documents and records of the briefest character, it answers their

purpose well enough.
CHAPTER XIV

THE FLOWER TEMPLE
It was half-past eight by my watch when I woke on the morning

following our arrival at Milosis, having slept almost exactly
twelve hours, and I must say that I did indeed feel better.

Ah, what a blessed thing is sleep! and what a difference twelve
hours of it or so makes to us after days and nights of toil and

danger. It is like going to bed one man and getting up another.
I sat up upon my silken couch -- never had I slept upon such

a bed before -- and the first thing that I saw was Good's eyeglass
fixed on me from the recesses of his silken couch. There was

nothing else of him to be seen except his eyeglass, but I knew
from the look of it that he was awake, and waiting till I woke

up to begin.
'I say, Quatermain,' he commenced sure enough, 'did you observe

her skin? It is as smooth as the back of an ivory hairbrush.'
'Now look here, Good,' I remonstrated, when there came a sound

at the curtain, which, on being drawn, admitted a functionary,
who signified by signs that he was there to lead us to the bath.

We gladly consented, and were conducted to a delightful marble
chamber, with a pool of runningcrystal water in the centre of

it, into which we gaily plunged. When we had bathed, we returned
to our apartment and dressed, and then went into the central

room where we had supped on the previous evening, to find a morning
meal already prepared for us, and a capital meal it was, though

I should be puzzled to describe the dishes. After breakfast
we lounged round and admired the tapestries and carpets and some

pieces of statuary that were placed about, wondering the while
what was going to happen next. Indeed, by this time our minds

were in such a state of complete bewilderment that we were, as
a matter of fact, ready for anything that might arrive. As for

our sense of astonishment, it was pretty well obliterated. Whilst
we were still thus engaged, our friend the captain of the guard

presented himself, and with many obeisances signified that we
were to follow him, which we did, not without doubts and heart-searchings

-- for we guessed that the time had come when we should have
to settle the bill for those confounded hippopotami with our