On arriving at Mapuio’s village, he was, as often happens, invisible, but he sent us a calabash of fresh-made beer, which is very refreshing, gave us a hut, and promised to cook for us in the evening.  We have to employ five or six carriers, and they rule the length of the day’s march.  Those from Chimuna’s village growled at the cubit of calico with which we paid them, but a few beads pleased them perfectly, and we parted good friends.  It is not likely I shall ever see them again, but I always like to please them, because it is right to consider their desires.  Is that not what is meant in “Blessed is he that considereth the poor”?  There is a great deal of good in these poor people.  In cases of milando they rely on the most distant relations and connections to plead their cause, and seldom are they disappointed, though time at certain seasons, as for instance at present, is felt by all to be precious.  Every man appears with hoe or axe on shoulder, and the people often only sit down as we pass and gaze at us till we are out of sight.

[Illustration:  Women’s Teeth hollowed.]

Many of the men have large slits in the lobe of the ear, and they have their distinctive tribal tattoo.  The women indulge in this painful luxury more than the men, probably because they have very few ornaments.  The two central front teeth are hollowed at the cutting edge.  Many have quite the Grecian facial angle.  Mapuio has thin legs and quite a European face.  Delicate features and limbs are common, and the spur-heel is as scarce as among Europeans; small feet and hands are the rule.

Clapping the hands in various ways is the polite way of saying “Allow me,” “I beg pardon,” “Permit me to pass,” “Thanks,” it is resorted to in respectful introduction and leave-taking, and also is equivalent to “Hear hear.”  When inferiors are called they respond by two brisk claps of the hands, meaning “I am coming.”  They are very punctilious amongst each other.  A large ivory bracelet marks the headman of a village; there is nothing else to show differences of rank.

28th October, 1866.—­We spent Sunday at Mapuio’s and had a long talk with him; his country is in a poor state from the continual incursions of the Mazitu, who are wholly unchecked.

29th October, 1866.—­We marched westwards to Makosa’s village, and could not go further, as the next stage is long and through an ill-peopled country.  The morning was lovely, the whole country bathed in bright sunlight, and not a breath of air disturbed the smoke as it slowly curled up from the heaps of burning weeds, which the native agriculturist wisely destroys.  The people generally were busy hoeing in the cool of the day.  One old man in a village where we rested had trained the little hair he had left into a tail, which, well plastered with fat, he had bent on itself and laid flat on his crown; another was carefully paring a stick for stirring the porridge, and others were enjoying the cool shade