o me as an old Kaffir man. I was truly
thankful that I had not put a bullet into his head. Upon chatting with
him, he told me that he was residing two or three days in the bush,
previous to his giving a prophecy on some important affair in his kraal.
He certainly was no true Kaffir, if he could not tell a thumping lie,
after three days getting it up, in the solitude of the bush.

Returning one afternoon from shooting, I saw a party of Kaffirs sitting
round my tent, and upon riding up I was informed by one of my dark
servants that a chief had come in from the Umzriububu district, to
transact some business, and being his particular chief he had asked him
to stay and have a talk with me. I was much flattered by this mark of
approbation, and at once asked M'untu Umculu into my tent, where we
squatted down and took pinch after pinch of strong snuff, until my
guest's shining hide became indistinct and shadowy through the tears
that forced themselves from the inmost recesses of my eyes.

We said not a word, but the long-drawn sighs that now and then with
bellows-like expression emanated from M'untu, gave earnest of his
unqualified delight and pure uninterrupted enjoyment.

After half an hour of unsneezing silence, I managed to stutter out,
_Chela pela's indaba incosi_ (tell me the news, chief), to which M'untu
politely replied that "the news should come from me." We had some
pleasant and instructive conversation, during which I discovered that
the six ladies who were sitting round outside were M'untu's wives, the
three men were his servants, and one old fellow, with a very high ring
on his head, was his familiar councillor. I ordered an ox's head for
their lunch, and expressed a wish that I should see my worthy visitor
during the course of the evening. About eight o'clock he came to me in
the mud hovel that served as mess-room, and accepted my offer of a seat.
He appeared with his retinue of wives, etc. It is strange what
different customs exist in different lands. While the princesses of
Oude allow not even their beautiful eyes to be seen, the princesses of
Kaffirland consider statuesque absence of drapery fashionable.
Civilisation prefers the half-way-between-the-two style which many of
our ball-room belles now practise. M'untu Umculu appeared wonderfully
at his ease, and offered me his snuff-box with the solemnity of a judge.
He was decidedly an oracle in his own circle, and although apparently
not more than twen