eir hiding-places
suddenly after heavy rain may have given rise to the idea of their fall
with it as fishes do, and the thunder frog is supposed to do. Always too
cloudy and rainy for observations of stars.

_15th December, 1872._--The country is now level, covered with trees
pollarded for clothing, and to make ashes of for manure. There are many
deserted villages, few birds. Cross the Eiver Lithabo, thirty yards wide
and thigh deep, running fast to the S.W., joined by a small one near.
Reached village of Chipala, on the Rivulet Chikatula, which goes to
Moipanza. The Lithabo goes to Kalongwesi by a S.W. course.

_16th December, 1872._--Off at 6 A.M. across the Chikatula, and in
three-quarters of an hour crossed the Lopanza, twelve yards wide and
waist deep, being now in flood. The Lolela was before us in
half-an-hour, eight yards wide and thigh deep, both streams perennial
and embowered in tall umbrageous trees that love wet; both flow to the
Kalongwesi.

We came to quite a group of villages having food, and remain, as we got
only driblets in the last two camps. Met two Banyamwezi carrying salt to
Lobemba, of Moambu. They went to Kabuire for it, and now retail it on
the way back.

At noon we got to the village of Kasiane, which is close to two
rivulets, named Lopanza and Lolela. The headman, a relative of Nsama,
brought me a large present of flour of dura, and I gave him two fathoms
of calico.

Floods by these sporadic rainfalls have discoloured waters, as seen in
Lopanza and Lolela to-day. The grass is all springing up quickly, and
the Maleza growing fast. The trees generally in full foliage. Different
shades of green, the dark prevailing; especially along rivulets, and the
hills in the distance are covered with dark blue haze. Here, in Lobemba,
they are gentle slopes of about 200 or 300 feet, and sandstone crops out
over their tops. In some parts clay schists appear, which look as if
they had been fused or were baked by intense heat.

The pugnacious spirit is one of the necessities of life. When people
have little or none of it, they are subjected to indignity and loss. My
own men walk into houses where we pass the nights without asking any
leave, and steal cassava without shame. I have to threaten and thrash to
keep them honest, while if we are at a village where the natives are a
little pugnacious they are as meek as sucking doves. The peace plan
involves indignity and wrong. I give little presents to the hea