19th September, 1866.—­When we had proceeded a mile this morning we came to 300 or 400 people making salt on a plain impregnated with it.  They lixiviate the soil and boil the water, which has filtered through a bunch of grass in a hole in the bottom of a pot, till all is evaporated and a mass of salt left.  We held along the plain till we came to Mponda’s, a large village, with a stream running past.  The plain at the village is very fertile, and has many large trees on it.  The cattle of Mponda are like fatted Madagascar beasts, and the hump seems as if it would weigh 100 lbs.[22] The size of body is so enormous that their legs, as remarked by our men, seemed very small.  Mponda is a blustering sort of person, but immensely interested in everything European.  He says that he would like to go with me.  “Would not care though he were away ten years.”  I say that he may die in the journey.—­“He will die here as well as there, but he will see all the wonderful doings of our country.”  He knew me, having come to the boat, to take a look incognito when we were here formerly.

We found an Arab slave-party here, and went to look at the slaves; seeing this; Mponda was alarmed lest we should proceed to violence in his town, but I said to him that we went to look only.  Eighty-five slaves were in a pen formed of dura stalks (Holcus sorghum).  The majority were boys of about eight or ten years of age; others were grown men and women.  Nearly all were in the taming-stick; a few of the younger ones were in thongs, the thong passing round the neck of each.  Several pots were on the fires cooking dura and beans.  A crowd went with us, expecting a scene, but I sat down, and asked a few questions about the journey, in front.  The slave-party consisted of five or six half-caste coast Arabs, who said that they came from Zanzibar; but the crowd made such a noise that we could not hear ourselves speak.  I asked if they had any objections to my looking at the slaves, the owners pointed out the different slaves, and said that after feeding them, and accounting for the losses in the way to the coast, they made little by the trip.  I suspect that the gain is made by those who ship them to the ports of Arabia, for at Zanzibar most of the younger slaves we saw went at about seven dollars a head.  I said to them it was a bad business altogether.  They presented fowls to me in the evening.

20th September, 1866.—­The chief begged so hard that I would stay another day and give medicine to a sick child, that I consented.  He promised plenty of food, and, as an earnest of his sincerity, sent an immense pot of beer in the evening.  The child had been benefited by the medicine given yesterday.  He offered more food than we chose to take.