14th November, 1866.—­We marched northwards round the end of Chisia Hill, and remained for the night at a blacksmith’s, or rather founder’s village; the two occupations of founder and smith are always united, and boys taught to be smiths in Europe or India would find themselves useless if unable to smelt the ore.  A good portion of the trees of the country have been cut down for charcoal, and those which now spring up are small; certain fruit trees alone are left.  The long slopes on the undulating country, clothed with fresh foliage, look very beautiful.  The young trees alternate with patches of yellow grass not yet burned; the hills are covered with a thick mantle of small green trees with, as usual, large ones at intervals.  The people at Kalumbi, on the Mando (where we spent four days), had once a stockade of wild fig (Ficus Indica) and euphorbia round their village, which has a running rill on each side of it; but the trees which enabled them to withstand a siege by Mazitu fell before elephants and buffaloes during a temporary absence of the villagers; the remains of the stockade are all around it yet.  Lions sometimes enter huts by breaking through the roof:  elephants certainly do, for we saw a roof destroyed by one; the only chance for the inmates is to drive a spear into the belly of the beast while so engaged.

A man came and reported the Mazitu to be at Chanyandula’s village, where we are going.  The headman advised remaining at his village till we saw whether they came this way or went by another path.  The women were sent away, but the men went on with their employments; two proceeded with the building of a furnace on an anthill, where they are almost always placed, and they keep a look-out while working.  We have the protection of an all-embracing Providence, and trust that He, whose care of His people “xceeds all that our utmost self-love can attain, will shield us and make our way prosperous.

16th November, 1866.—­An elephant came near enough last night to scream at us, but passed on, warned, perhaps, by the shouting of the villagers not to meddle with man.  No Mazitu having come, we marched on and crossed the Bua, eight yards wide and knee deep.  It rises in the northern hills a little beyond Kanyindula’s village, winds round his mountains, and away to the east.  The scenery among the mountains is very lovely:  they are covered with a close mantle of green, with here and there red and light-coloured patches, showing where grass has been burned off recently and the red clay soil is exposed; the lighter portions are unburned grass or rocks.  Large trees are here more numerous, and give an agreeable change of contour to the valleys and ridges of the hills; the boughs of many still retain a tinge of red from young leaves.  We came to the Bua again before reaching Kanyenje, as Kanyindula’s place is called.  The iron trade must have been carried on for an immense time in the country, for one cannot go a quarter of a mile without meeting pieces of slag and broken pots, calcined pipes, and fragments of the furnaces, which are converted by the fire into brick.  It is curious that the large stone sledge-hammers now in use are not called by the name stone-hammers, but by a distinct word, “kama:”  nyundo is one made of iron.