ed it had
Hamees not succeeded in making peace.

_17th July, 1867._--A lion roared very angrily at the village last
night, he was probably following the buffaloes that sometimes come
here to drink at night: they are all very shy, and so is all the game,
from fear of arrows.

A curious disease has attacked my left eyelid and surrounding parts: a
slight degree of itchiness is followed by great swelling of the part.
It must be a sort of lichen; exposure to the sun seems to cure it, and
this leads me to take long walks therein. This is about 30 deg. 19' E.
long.; lat. 8 deg. 57' 55" S.

_24th July, 1867._--A fire broke out at 4 A.M., and there being no
wind the straw roofs were cleared off in front of it on our side of
the village. The granaries were easily unroofed, as the roof is not
attached to the walls, and the Arabs tried to clear a space on their
side, but were unable, and then moved all their ivory and goods
outside the stockade; their side of the village was all consumed, and
three goats perished in the flames.

Chitimba has left us from a fear of his life, he says; it is probable
that he means this flight to be used as an excuse to Nsama after we
are gone. "And I, too, was obliged to flee from my village to save my
life! What could I do?" This is to be his argument, I suspect.

A good many slaves came from the two villages that were destroyed: on
inquiry I was told that these would be returned when Nsama gave the
ivory promised.

When Nsama was told that an Englishman wished to go past him to Moero,
he replied, "Bring him, and I shall send men to take him thither."

Hamees is building a "tembe," or house, with a flat roof, and walls
plastered over with mud, to keep his ivory from fire while he is
absent. We expect that Nsama will send for us a few days after the 2nd
August, when the new moon appears; if they do not come soon Hamees
will send men to Nsama without waiting for his messengers.

_28th July, 1867._--Prayers, with the Litany.[55] Slavery is a great
evil wherever I have seen it. A poor old woman and child are among the
captives, the boy about three years old seems a mother's pet. His feet
are sore from walking in the sun. He was offered for two fathoms, and
his mother for one fathom; he understood it all, and cried bitterly,
clinging to his mother. She had, of course, no power to help him; they
were separated at Karungu afterwards.

[The above is an episode of every-day occurrence in the wake o