parts of the forest, and in this way all the wax exported from Benguela and Loanda is collected.  It is all the produce of free labor.  A “piece of medicine” is tied round the trunk of the tree, and proves sufficient protection against thieves.  The natives seldom rob each other, for all believe that certain medicines can inflict disease and death; and though they consider that these are only known to a few, they act on the principle that it is best to let them all alone.  The gloom of these forests strengthens the superstitious feelings of the people.  In other quarters, where they are not subjected to this influence, I have heard the chiefs issue proclamations to the effect that real witchcraft medicines had been placed at certain gardens from which produce had been stolen, the thieves having risked the power of the ordinary charms previously placed there.

This being the rainy season, great quantities of mushrooms were met with, and were eagerly devoured by my companions:  the edible variety is always found growing out of ant-hills, and attains the diameter of the crown of a hat; they are quite white, and very good, even when eaten raw; they occupy an extensive region of the interior; some, not edible, are of a brilliant red, and others are of the same light blue as the paper used by apothecaries to put up their medicines.

There was a considerable pleasure, in spite of rain and fever, in this new scenery.  The deep gloom contrasted strongly with the shadeless glare of the Kalahari, which had left an indelible impression on my memory.  Though drenched day by day at this time, and for months afterward, it was long before I could believe that we were getting too much of a good thing.  Nor could I look at water being thrown away without a slight, quick impression flitting across the mind that we were guilty of wasting it.  Every now and then we emerged from the deep gloom into a pretty little valley, having a damp portion in the middle; which, though now filled with water, at other times contains moisture enough for wells only.  These wells have shades put over them in the form of little huts.

We crossed, in canoes, a little never-failing stream, which passes by the name of Lefuje, or “the rapid”.  It comes from a goodly high mountain, called Monakadzi (the woman), which gladdened our eyes as it rose to our sight about twenty or thirty miles to the east of our course.  It is of an oblong shape, and seemed at least eight hundred feet above the plains.  The Lefuje probably derives its name from the rapid descent of the short course it has to flow from Monakadzi to the Leeba.