e roots; the poor little things still drawing nourishment from the
natural fountain were unconscious of that sinking of heart which their
parents must have felt in knowing that the supply for the little ones
must soon fail. No one would sell a bit of food to us: fishermen, even,
would not part with the produce of their nets, except in exchange for
some other kind of food. Numbers of newly-made graves showed that many
had already perished, and hundreds were so emaciated that they had the
appearance of human skeletons swathed in brown and wrinkled leather. In
passing mile after mile, marked with these sad proofs that "man's
inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn," one experiences an
overpowering sense of helplessness to alleviate human woe, and breathes a
silent prayer to the Almighty to hasten the good time coming when "man
and man the world o'er, shall brothers be for all that." One small
redeeming consideration in all this misery could not but be felt; these
ills were inflicted by heathen Mazitu, and not by, or for, those who say
to Him who is higher than the highest, "We believe that thou shalt come
to be our Judge."

We crossed the Mokole, rested at Chitanda, and then left the Lake, and
struck away N.W. to Chinsamba's. Our companions, who were so much
oppressed by the rarefied air of the plateau, still showed signs of
exhaustion, though now only 1300 feet above the sea, and did not recover
flesh and spirits till we again entered the Lower Shire Valley, which is
of so small an altitude, that, without simultaneous observations with the
barometer there and on the sea-coast, the difference would not be
appreciable.

On a large plain on which we spent one night, we had the company of
eighty tobacco traders on their way from Kasungu to Chinsamba's. The
Mazitu had attacked and killed two of them, near the spot where the Zulus
fled from us without answering our questions. The traders were now so
frightened that, instead of making a straight course with us, they set
off by night to follow the shores of the Lake to Tsenga, and then turn
west. It is the sight of shields, or guns that inspires terror. The
bowmen feel perfectly helpless when the enemy comes with even the small
protection the skin shield affords, or attacks them in the open field
with guns. They may shoot a few arrows, but they are such poor shots
that ten to one if they hit. The only thing that makes the arrow
formidable is the poison; for