Composed of patch-work material, the Europeans do not unite, and their disputes, especially between compatriots, are exasperated by commercial rivalries, which have led to serious violations of faith. All is wearisome monotony: there is no society, no pleasure, no excitement; sporting is forbidden by the treacherous climate, and, as in West Africa and the Brazil, strangers soon lose the habit of riding and walking. Moreover, the merchants, instead of establishing the business hours of Bombay, make themselves at home to their work throughout the day; this is the custom of the Bonny River, where supercargoes are treated like shopkeepers by the negroes. European women, I repeat, seldom survive the isolation and the solitary confinement to which not only the place but also the foul customs of the people condemn them. The necessaries of life at Zanzibar are plentiful, if not good. Bread of imported wheat is usually ‘cooked’ in the house, and the yeast of sour toddy renders it nauseous and unwholesome. There have been two bakers upon the Island: one served at the Consulate, the other, a Persian, was in the employment of the Prince. Meat is poor; a good preserved article would here make cent. per cent. Poultry is abundant, tasteless and unnutritious; fish is also common, but it is hardly eatable, except at certain seasons. Cows’ milk is generally to be had, but the butter is white, and resembles grease; fruit must be bought at the different bazars early in the morning. All such articles as tea, wine, and spirits, cigars, tobacco, and sweetmeats, are imported from America or from Europe,—the town supplies nothing so civilized. Retail dealing is wanted, and the nearest approach to a shop is the store of a Khojah, who will buy and sell everything, from a bead to a bale of cloth. All articles but money are expensive at Zanzibar, where the dollar represents our shilling.[87] This is the result of the large sums accumulated by trade and of the necessity of importing provisions; we see the same process at work throughout the tropical Brazil. Moreover, in all semi-barbarous lands a stranger living like a native, may live upon ‘half-nothing;’ if he would, however, preserve the comforts of home, and especially if he would see society, he must consent to an immoderate expenditure. Finally, where the extremes of wealth and poverty meet, and where semi-civilization has not discovered that prudence is a virtue and improvidence a blunder, the more man spends the more he is honoured.