Then he said to me, “Take it and eat it, and give him any pretty thing you like.”  I was thus led to mistake the chief, and he, believing that he had said explicitly he wanted a blanket for it, naturally held out.  It is difficult to get these lads to say what one wants uttered:  either with enormous self-conceit, they give different, and, as they think, better statements, suppress them altogether, or return false answers:  this is the great and crowning difficulty of my intercourse.

I got ready to go, but the chief was very angry, and came with all his force, exclaiming that I wanted to leave against his will and power, though he wished to adjust matters, and send me away nicely.  He does not believe that we have no blankets.  It is hard to be kept waiting here, but all may be for the best:  it has always turned out so, and I trust in Him on whom I can cast all my cares.  The Lord look on this and help me.  Though I have these nine boys, I feel quite alone.

I gave the chief some seeds, peas, and beans, for which he seemed thankful, and returned little presents of food and beer frequently.  The beer of maere is stuffed full of the growing grain as it begins to sprout, it is as thick as porridge, very strong and bitter, and goes to the head, requiring a strong digestion to overcome it.

February, 1867.—­I showed the chief one of the boys’ blankets, which he is willing to part with for two of our cloths, each of which is larger than it, but he declines to receive it, because we have new ones.  I invited him, since he disbelieved my assertions, to look in our bales, and if he saw none, to pay us a fine for the insult:  he consented in a laughing way to give us an ox.  All our personal intercourse has been of the good-natured sort.  It is the communications to the boys, by three men who are our protectors, or rather spies, that is disagreeable; I won’t let them bring those fellows near me.

10th February, 1867.—­He came early in the morning, and I showed that I had no blanket, and he took the old one, and said that the affair was ended.  A long misunderstanding would have been avoided, had Abraham told me fully what the chief said at first.

16th February, 1867.—­The chief offered me a cow for a piece of red serge, and after a deal of talk and Chitapangwa swearing that no demand would be made after the bargain was concluded, I gave the serge, a cloth, and a few beads for a good fat cow.  The serge was two fathoms, a portion of that which Miss Coutts gave me when leaving England in 1858.

The chief is not so bad, as the boys are so cowardly.  They assume a chirping, piping tone of voice in speaking to him, and do not say what at last has to be said, because in their cringing souls they believe they know what should be said better than I do.  It does not strike them in the least that I have grown grey amongst these people; and it is immense conceit in mere boys to equal themselves to me.  The difficulty is greater, because when I do ask their opinions I only receive the reply, “It is as you please, sir.”  Very likely some men of character may arise and lead them; but such as I have would do little to civilise.