then afterwards become different, "as
people do when they separate and live always by themselves away from
other people," he added.

"Look at the elephant, the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus and the wild
pig," he said, "they must at one time have been one kind; their teeth
are alike, and none of them chew the cud. I think they must be cousins
to one another, and, one time, perhaps, they were brothers."

Leaving aside the question of the absolute correctness of the old man's
observation there can be no doubt that we have here a thinker who, being
struck with the physiological similarity of some animals is attempting
to account for the fact, and does so along the lines of Darwin and his
predecessors, but without any of the facts and theories that were
recorded before they began their labours. I asked the old fellow if he
had ever heard Selous talk about this matter, and he said he had not;
the idea, he said, had come out of his own head.

One day a Zambesi woman whose husband, a petty chief, was awaiting trial
for murder at my station, sent word to me asking for permission to dance
that night in the compound. Surmising that there was a religious motive
behind this request I gave my consent, and afterwards watched the
dancing for an hour or so.

The element of rhythm in sound and movement has always been one of the
chief means of exciting and expressing religious exaltation as well as
sexual passion, and the two emotions merge easily in all primitive
people whether they be the half-civilised moujiks of Russia, or the
frequenters of modern "Revival Meetings," or the naked Batonka on the
banks of the Zambesi. The Batonka, indeed, are particularly fond of
dancing to the beat of the ubiquitous drum.

The woman, who was accompanied by a few of her female friends, danced
with unusual grace, and her movements were remarkably free from erotic
incitation. Holding a pair of gourds in which little stones rattled not
unmusically, like castanets, she gyrated in the moonlight and pirouetted
on her toes with such lightness and elegance that my curiosity was
roused, and the next morning I had her brought to my office and asked
her to account, if she could, for the marked difference between her way
of dancing and that of the rest of her people.

This is what she said: "I was very sad and my whole body was heavy. I
felt ill, so I asked that I might be allowed to dance. Dancing always
does me good when I feel unwell. I did not learn to d