AN EVENING IN IMERINA. BY EDWARD BAKER. IMERINA is the central of the twenty-four districts into which the Island of Madagascar is divided by its native inhabitants. The country rises in height from the sea-coast to the centre, until the traveller's barometer indicates, for the general elevation of Imerina, from eight to nine thousand feet; an indication singularly confirmed by the phenomenon of the thermometer, when plunged into boiling water, resting at about four degrees below the boiling point. Elevated seven hundred feet above this level, is the stupendous rock of granite on which An-Tananarivo the capital is built, and the Missionary Station is situated. On the western side of this stupendous rock, at about three miles' distance, lies the most extensive piece of rice-ground of which Imerina can boast; comprising many thousand acres of its richest land. Lofty hills surround this plain, generally studded on their summits with the native houses; while to the southwest flows the large river Ambaniála, from which tributary streams are drawn by artificial canals over the whole surface of the rice-ground. Here may be seen all classes of men, from the aged and venerable chieftain with his silken garment thrown elegantly over his withered shoulder, and leaning on his long staff, to the "lost man," as the brawny slave, heavily grasping his spade or reaping knife, is called. Here, too, genius, wild but not ineloquent, oftentimes glows in the eye, and flows spontaneously from the lips of some native bard. His voice has been hushed during the busy hours of full day, but now, as the sun declines, and many loiterers are preparing to depart, he seizes his "lokanga,"* when, touching a string with his finger, and glancing his eye around, he perchance observes some mourners bearing on a humble bier the corpse of a loved relative, and slowly chanting their monotonous song of grief. In a few minutes the bard is surrounded by attentive hearers, when, striking his musical string, and pointing to the mourners, he breaks forth into— A SONG CONCErning The Dead.† Vain man! observest thou not the dead? The morning warmth from them has fled, Their mid-day joy and toil are o'er, Though near, they meet fond friends no more. A gate of entrance to the tomb we see, But a departure thence there ne'er will be. The living waves his signal high, But where's his dearest friends' reply? Ah! where are those thus doom'd to die? * A musical instrument, (if, like the drum, it merits the name,) which consists of an immense pumpkin, hollowed out, the rind being dried in the sun, and having a bridge with one tinkling and monotonous string attached to the top of it. This, as well as the following, is a genuine translation, and the circumstances described are in no degree fictitious. Vain man! observest thou not the dead ? Sweet words forsake their dreary bed, There's none the mould'ring silk* around his fellow folds, Or north or south again, their visit gay beholds, Their shrouded heads unmoving lie, Vain man! observ'st thou not the dead? Ah, where are those thus doomed to die? Let me prefer true goodness to attain, Or fool or wise I'm deem'd by transient fame. New rice, my friends, your cheerful blessing, give, So from Razafiláhy† you thanks receive. Many a sable cheek will bear the witness of a tear to the bard's pathos, as he repeats again and again, the same, or nearly the same, words; and when he lays down his lokanga, many a cheerful hand will pour a blessing" of new rice into his extended garment. 66 But perhaps his eye turns to the flowing stream Ambániála, which, like all the blessings of Providence, is impartial, and, after watering the plains of the Imerina, the land of the Hova's, flows on to the country of their ancient enemies the Sakalava. He draws forth his " valia," a piece of bamboo cane, out of *The corpses are wrapt in silk. The Bard's name. which seven or eight strips are cut for strings, and, being raised by bridges, are played upon like a guitar. THE RIVER. Ambániála rolls its wave, Unnumbered village rocks to lave, Where Péto lifts his lofty head, And solar beams gleam forth in western red. Guide well thy course, Nor let thy waters rush, With heedless force Our harvest hopes to crush. Too full; thou'rt like a mantle out of measure, My breast is cold in nakedness. Behold Antonta!* Ah, how far, Art thou, my lov'd Imerina ! The cat'ract's roaring voice I hear, In whose wild surge the soldier sheds a tear; With fever not less dire, Combine to snatch my brave boy's breath, The waters clash, and misty foam Conceal his face, repress his moan. His child let each unwept forsake, For all the bitter curse partake. * A village on the banks of the river, from whence is obtained the last glimpse of Imerina. By this time, perhaps, the sun is nearly set, when our bard, striking a more cheerful note, dismisses his listeners with A PARTING SONG. Observe, my friends, the dying day, Then in our houses Loud mirth arouses, And social converse ne'er decrease. We all possess a lov'd abode, And each one knows his evening road. The geographical extent and situation of Madagascar, its diversity of climate, numerous and valuable productions, which may be rendered available in promoting the civilisation of its inhabitants, or the extension of their commerce with other nations, render it an important island. Its population has been estimated at upwards of 4,000,000. Eighteen years ago, two missionaries from the London Missionary Society commenced their endeavours to instruct the people by opening a school on the coast. The ravages of sickness and death obliged them for a time to abandon their pursuit, but it was resumed two years afterwards at the capital, under happier auspices. Since that period, the work of the mission has, under many discouragements, continued to advance. The language has been reduced to a regular system, orthographies and grammars have been formed, schools established, and some thousands of the people taught to read. The whole of the New and part of the Old Testament have been translated and printed, many copies of which are in daily use among the people; while there is reason to believe that, by the Divine blessing, the truth has been made unto multitudes effectual in producing a decisive spiritual change of mind and heart. A printing-press was established at the capital about seven years ago, and about 129,800 copies of portions of the Scriptures, and Christian books, have been put into circulation. |