on the level plains above are low and scraggy in their growth.  There can be little doubt but that the water, which stands for months on the plains, soaks in, and finds its way into the rivers and rivulets by percolating through the soil, and out by these oozing bogs; and the difference between the growth of these trees, though they be of different species, may be a proof that the stuntedness of those on the plains is owing to being, in the course of each year, more subjected to drought than moisture.

Reaching the village of Kabinje, in the evening he sent us a present of tobacco, Mutokuane or “bang” (’Cannabis sativa’), and maize, by the man who went forward to announce our arrival, and a message expressing satisfaction at the prospect of having trade with the coast.  The westing we were making brought us among people who are frequently visited by the Mambari as slave-dealers.  This trade causes bloodshed; for when a poor family is selected as the victims, it is necessary to get rid of the older members of it, because they are supposed to be able to give annoyance to the chief afterward by means of enchantments.  The belief in the power of charms for good or evil produces not only honesty, but a great amount of gentle dealing.  The powerful are often restrained in their despotism from a fear that the weak and helpless may injure them by their medical knowledge.  They have many fears.  A man at one of the villages we came to showed us the grave of his child, and, with much apparent feeling, told us she had been burned to death in her hut.  He had come with all his family, and built huts around it in order to weep for her.  He thought, if the grave were left unwatched, the witches would come and bewitch them by putting medicines on the body.  They have a more decided belief in the continued existence of departed spirits than any of the more southerly tribes.  Even the Barotse possess it in a strong degree, for one of my men of that tribe, on experiencing headache, said, with a sad and thoughtful countenance, “My father is scolding me because I do not give him any of the food I eat.”  I asked where his father was.  “Among the Barimo,” was the reply.

When we wished to move on, Kabinje refused a guide to the next village because he was at war with it; but, after much persuasion, he consented, provided that the guide should be allowed to return as soon as he came in sight of the enemy’s village.  This we felt to be a misfortune, as the people all suspect a man who comes telling his own tale; but there being no help for it, we went on, and found the head man of a village on the rivulet Kalomba, called Kangenke, a very different man from what his enemy represented.  We found, too, that the idea of buying and selling took the place of giving for friendship.  As I had nothing with which to purchase food except a parcel of beads which were preserved for worse times, I began to fear that we should soon be compelled to suffer more from hunger than we had done.  The people