So our
farm is now a little village: each married couple will have its own
house. Then, too, we are not only agriculturists, we are fishermen and
hunters also. We have our boats; the Niger abounds in fish to an
extraordinary degree, and there are wonderful hauls at times. And even
the shooting and hunting would suffice to feed us; game is plentiful,
there are partridges and wild guinea-fowl, not to mention the flamingoes,
the pelicans, the egrets, the thousands of creatures who do not prey on
one another. Black lions visit us at times: eagles fly slowly over our
heads; at dusk hippopotami come in parties of three and four to gambol in
the river with the clumsy grace of negro children bathing. But, after
all, we are more particularly cultivators, kings of the plain, especially
when the waters of the Niger withdraw after fertilizing our fields. Our
estate has no limits; it stretches as far as we can labor. And ah! if you
could only see the natives, who do not even plough, but have few if any
appliances beyond sticks, with which they just scratch the soil before
confiding the seed to it! There is no trouble, no worry; the earth is
rich, the sun ardent, and thus the crop will always be a fine one.
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