31st December, 1866.—­When we started this morning after rain, all the trees and grass dripping, a lion roared, but we did not see him.  A woman had come a long way and built a neat miniature hut in the burnt-out ruins of her mother’s house:  the food-offering she placed in it, and the act of filial piety, no doubt comforted this poor mourner’s heart!

We arrived at Chitembo’s village and found it deserted.  The Babisa dismantle their huts and carry off the thatch to their gardens, where they live till harvest is over.  This fallowing of the framework destroys many insects, but we observed that wherever Babisa and Arab slavers go they leave the breed of the domestic bug:  it would be well if that were all the ill they did!  Chitembo was working in his garden when we arrived, but soon came, and gave us the choice of all the standing huts:  he is an old man, much more frank and truthful than our last headman, and says that Chitapanga is paramount chief of all the Abemba.

Three or four women whom we saw performing a rain dance at Moerwa’s were here doing the same; their faces smeared with meal, and axes in their hands, imitating as well as they could the male voice.  I got some maere or millet here and a fowl.

We now end 1866.  It has not been so fruitful or useful as I intended.  Will try to do better in 1867, and be better—­more gentle and loving; and may the Almighty, to whom I commit my way, bring my desires to pass, and prosper me!  Let all the sins of ’66 be blotted out for Jesus’ sake.

* * * * *

1st January, 1867.—­May He who was full of grace and truth impress His character on mine.  Grace—­eagerness to show favour; truth—­truthfulness, sincerity, honour—­for His mercy’s sake.

We remain to-day at Mbulukuta-Chitembo’s district, by the boys’ desire, because it is New Year’s day, and also because we can get some food.

2nd and 3rd January, 1867.—­Remain on account of a threatened set-in rain.  Bought a senze (Aulocaudatus Swindernianus), a rat-looking animal; but I was glad to get anything in the shape of meat.

4th January, 1867.—­It is a set-in rain.  The boiling-point thermometer shows an altitude of 3565 feet above the sea.  Barometer, 3983 feet ditto.  We get a little maere here, and prefer it to being drenched and our goods spoiled.  We have neither sugar nor salt, so there are no soluble goods; but cloth and gunpowder get damaged easily.  It is hard fare and scanty; I feel always hungry, and am constantly dreaming of better food when I should be sleeping.  Savoury viands of former times come vividly up before the imagination, even in my waking hours; this is rather odd as I am not a dreamer; indeed I scarcely ever dream but when I am going to be ill or actually so.[43]