The farther we advanced, the more we found the country swarming with inhabitants.  Great numbers came to see the white man, a sight they had never beheld before.  They always brought presents of maize and masuka.  Their mode of salutation is quite singular.  They throw themselves on their backs on the ground, and, rolling from side to side, slap the outside of their thighs as expressions of thankfulness and welcome, uttering the words “Kina bomba.”  This method of salutation was to me very disagreeable, and I never could get reconciled to it.  I called out, “Stop, stop; I don’t want that;” but they, imagining I was dissatisfied, only tumbled about more furiously, and slapped their thighs with greater vigor.  The men being totally unclothed, this performance imparted to my mind a painful sense of their extreme degradation.  My own Batoka were much more degraded than the Barotse, and more reckless.  We had to keep a strict watch, so as not to be involved by their thieving from the inhabitants, in whose country and power we were.  We had also to watch the use they made of their tongues, for some within hearing of the villagers would say, “I broke all the pots of that village,” or, “I killed a man there.”  They were eager to recount their soldier deeds, when they were in company with the Makololo in former times as a conquering army.  They were thus placing us in danger by their remarks.  I called them together, and spoke to them about their folly, and gave them a pretty plain intimation that I meant to insist upon as complete subordination as I had secured in my former journey, as being necessary for the safety of the party.  Happily, it never was needful to resort to any other measure for their obedience, as they all believed that I would enforce it.

In connection with the low state of the Batoka, I was led to think on the people of Kuruman, who were equally degraded and equally depraved.  There a man scorned to shed a tear.  It would have been “tlolo”, or transgression.  Weeping, such as Dr. Kane describes among the Esquimaux, is therefore quite unknown in that country.  But I have witnessed instances like this:  Baba, a mighty hunter—­the interpreter who accompanied Captain Harris, and who was ultimately killed by a rhinoceros—­sat listening to the Gospel in the church at Kuruman, and the gracious words of Christ, made to touch his heart, evidently by the Holy Spirit, melted him into tears; I have seen him and others sink down to the ground weeping.  When Baba was lying mangled by the furious beast which tore him off his horse, he shed no tear, but quietly prayed as long as he was conscious.  I had no hand in his instruction:  if these Batoka ever become like him, and they may, the influence that effects it must be divine.

A very large portion of this quarter is covered with masuka-trees, and the ground was so strewed with the pleasant fruit that my men kept eating it constantly as we marched along.  We saw a smaller kind of the same tree, named Molondo, the fruit of which is about the size of marbles, having a tender skin, and slight acidity of taste mingled with its sweetness.  Another tree which is said to yield good fruit is named Sombo, but it was not ripe at this season.