d not express the slightest surprise.

[Illustration: A TYPICAL OIL PALM FOREST]

[Illustration: BRINGING IN THE PALM FRUIT]

At Kwamouth, where the Kasai flows into the Congo River, we entered the
so-called "Channel." From this point down to Stanley Pool the river is
deep and the current is swift. This means that for a brief time the
traveller enjoys immunity from the danger of running aground on a
sandbank. The whole country-side is changed. Instead of the low and
luxuriantly-wooded shores the banks become higher with each passing
hour. Soon the land adjacent to the river merges into foothills and
these in turn taper off into mountains. The effect is noble and
striking. No wonder Stanley went into ecstasies over this scenery. He
declared on more than one occasion that it was as inspiring as any he
had seen in Wales or Scotland.

In the "Channel" another surprise awaits the traveller. The mornings are
bitterly raw. This is probably due to the high ground on either side of
the river and the strong currents of air that sweep up the stream. I can
frankly say that I really suffered from the cold within striking
distance of the equator. I did not feel comfortable until I had donned a
heavy sweater.

This sudden change in temperature explains one reason why so many Congo
natives die under forty. They are scantily clad, perspire freely, and
lie out at night with scarcely any covering. They go to sleep in a humid
atmosphere and wake up with the temperature forty degrees lower. The
natural result is that half of them constantly have colds and the
moment pneumonia develops they succumb. Congestion of the lungs vies
with sleeping sickness as the ravager of Middle Africa, and especially
certain parts of the Congo.

Kinshassa is situated on Stanley Pool, a lake-like expansion of the
Congo more than two hundred square miles in area. It is dotted with
islands. Nearly one-third of the northern shore is occupied by the rocky
formations that Stanley named Dover Cliffs. They reminded him of the
famous white cliffs of England and with the sunlight on them they do
bear a strong resemblance to one of the familiar signposts of Albion.
More than one Englishman emerging from the jungle after long service
remote from civilization has gotten a thrill of home at the name and
sight of these hills.

Stanley Pool has always been associated in my mind with one of the most
picturesque episodes in Stanley's life. He tells about it in his
monum