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11th December, 1868.—­We marched four hours unmolested by the natives, built a fence, and next day crossed the Lokinda River and its feeder the Mookosi; here the people belonged to Chisabi, who had not joined the other Babemba.  We go between two ranges of tree-covered mountains, which are continuations of those on each side of Moero.

12th December, 1868.—­The tiresome tale of slaves running away was repeated again last night by two of Mpamari’s making off, though in the yoke, and they had been with him from boyhood.  Not one good-looking slave-woman is now left of Mohamad Bogharib’s fresh slaves; all the pretty ones obtain favour by their address, beg to be unyoked, and then escape.  Four hours brought us to many villages of Chisabi and the camp of Syde bin Habib in the middle of a set-in rain, which marred the demonstration at meeting with his relative Mpamari; but the women braved it through, wet to the skin, and danced and lullilooed with “draigled” petticoats with a zeal worthy of a better cause, as the “penny-a-liners” say.  It is the custom for the trader who receives visitors to slaughter goats, and feed all his guests for at least two days, nor was Syde wanting in this hospitality, though the set-in rain continuing, we did not enjoy it as in fine weather.

14th December, 1868.—­Cotton-grass and brackens all over the country show the great humidity of Marungu.  Rain daily; but this is not the great rain which falls when the sun comes back south over our heads.

15th December, 1868.—­March two hours only to the range of Tamba.  A pretty little light-grey owl, called “nkwekwe,” was killed by a native as food; a black ring round its face and its black ears gave it all the appearance of a cat, whose habits it follows.

16th to 18th December, 1868.—­A brother of Syde bin Habib died last night:  I had made up my mind to leave the whole party, but Syde said that Chisabi was not to be trusted, and the death of his brother having happened, it would not be respectful to leave him to bury his dead alone.  Six of his slaves fled during the night—­one, the keeper of the others.  A Mobemba man, who had been to the coast twice with him, is said to have wished a woman who was in the chain, so he loosed five out, and took her off; the others made clear heels of it, and now that the grass is long and green, no one can trace their course.

Syde told me that the slaves would not have detained him, but his brother’s death did.  We buried the youth, who has been ill three months.  Mpamari descended into the grave with four others; a broad cloth was held over them horizontally, and a little fluctuation made, as if to fan those who were depositing the body in the side excavation made at the bottom:  when they had finished they pulled in earth, and all shoved it towards them till the grave was level.  Mullam then came and poured a little water into and over the grave, mumbled a few prayers, at which Mpamari said aloud to me, “Mullam does not let his voice be heard;” and Mullam smiled to me, as if to say, “Loud enough for all I shall get:”  during the ceremony the women were all wailing loudly.  We went to the usual sitting-place, and shook hands with Syde, as if receiving him back again into the company of the living.