No matter what paths of life it may be the fortune of my readers to tread, let me recommend those wearied with social bustle and the empty amenities of present-day existence to pass a few weeks in the comparative solitude of several pleasant companions “under the stars” in North-Western Rhodesia, where they can still catch a glimpse of the elusive zebras, with coats shining in the sun like burnished steel, and hear the persistent call of the honey-bird.  At night the roar of lions may now and then cause them to turn in their sleep, and in their dreams they may have visions of the animals that have charmed them during the day—­the stately eland, the graceful roan and sable antelopes, the ungainly wildebeeste, and the funny old wart-hog, trotting along with high action and tail erect.  Besides gaining health and experiencing the keenest enjoyment, they will know some of the pleasures vouchsafed to those of their countrymen whose fate it is to live, and sometimes to die, in far-off climes—­men who have helped to make England famous, and are now, step by step, building up our mighty Empire.  Curious are the lives these men, and many like them, lead, cut off as it were from the bustling, throbbing world.  A handful of white men, surrounded by thousands of blacks, with calm complacency they proceed, first to impress on the natives the importance, the might, and the justice, of the great Empire which they represent in their various capacities; then to establish beyond question their own dignity and wisdom; and finally to make themselves as comfortable, and their surroundings as attractive and homelike, as possible, with such means as they can command.  They are to be seen superintending a court of justice, looked up to and trusted by the natives, who have quickly found out that the “boss” is just, firm, and that he will not believe a falsehood.  The blacks have their native names for all these officials, most of them showing great discernment, and some of quite an affectionate nature.

The Commissioners, whose work is entirely among the native population, requiring the greatest tact and patience, besides a perfect knowledge of the language, lead, perhaps, the most arduous, as well as the most lonely, existences.  Most of the year is occupied in making tours of inspection through their vast districts; they live continually in the open, in constant contact with Nature, and for weeks together they never see a white man.  Almost unattended, they move fearlessly in little-known places, among an uncivilized if friendly people, and to some extent they have their lives in their hands.  And yet they do not regard their solitary existence as anything to occasion surprise or admiration; they realize the importance of their mission, and wet seasons, bad attacks of fever, and impaired health, do not quench their energy or their keenness for the great work of development.  It is true, indeed, that one and all live in anticipation of the biennial holiday, of the seven months spent