Thinking black; 22 years without a break in the long grass of Central ...

THEN
THEN and NOW
" Wanting is—what ?
Summer Redundant,
A.D. 1889 Blueness Abundant,
Where is the blot?"
Peering back through the haze of twenty-three years,
behold the retrospect! There goes the West Coast
slipping silently past under the port bow, and Africa
(much-loved, much-blamed Africa) unrolls the panorama
of her coast-line in seductive welcome. Only the other
day embarking at London with a cold heaven glittering
overhead like blue steel ; now, here you are under the
line, where sleepy coast towns lie hidden in the haze of
sun.
Then comes the landing at Benguella, where the
surprises are marvellously many. All your ship-board
surmisings, you discover, were easy and elementary
error. How little you knew of the African puzzle is
seen when it leaks out that the very name {''Africa!'')
is utterly unknown to the negro. Africa ? He never
heard such a hideous word. It is a mere tag, a 7nere
ticket stuck on the back of this poor Continent by out-
siders. A perfect parable all this of Africa, the land,
and the African, the man. A straw indicates the
current, and if we know not the name, then we know