The pugnacious spirit is one of the necessities of life.  When people have little or none of it, they are subjected to indignity and loss.  My own men walk into houses where we pass the nights without asking any leave, and steal cassava without shame.  I have to threaten and thrash to keep them honest, while if we are at a village where the natives are a little pugnacious they are as meek as sucking doves.  The peace plan involves indignity and wrong.  I give little presents to the headmen, and to some extent heal their hurt sensibilities.  This is indeed much appreciated, and produces profound hand-clapping.

17th December, 1872.—­It looked rainy, but we waited half-an-hour, and then went on one hour and a half, when it set in and forced us to seek shelter in a village.  The head of it was very civil, and gave us two baskets of cassava, and one of dura.  I gave a small present first.  The district is called Kisinga, and flanks the Kalongweze.

18th December, 1872.—­Over same flat pollarded forest until we reached the Kalongwese Kiver on the right bank, and about a quarter of a mile east of the confluence of the Luena or Kisaka.  This side of the river is called Kisinga, the other is Chama’s and Kisinga too.  The Luena comes from Jange in Casembe’s land, or W.S.W. of this.  The Kalongwese comes from the S.E. of this, and goes away N.W.  The donkey sends a foot every now and then through the roof of cavities made apparently by ants, and sinks down 18 inches or more and nearly falls.  These covered hollows are right in the paths.

19th December, 1872.—­So cloudy and wet that no observations can be taken for latitude and longitude at this real geographical point.  The Kalongwese is sixty or eighty yards wide and four yards deep, about a mile above the confluence of the Luena.  We crossed it in very small canoes, and swamped one twice, but no one was lost.  Marched S. about 1-1/4 hour.

20th December, 1872.—­Shut in by heavy clouds.  Wait to see if it will clear up.  Went on at 7.15, drizzling as we came near the Mozumba or chiefs stockade.  A son of Chama tried to mislead us by setting out west, but the path being grass-covered I objected, and soon came on to the large clear path.  The guide ran off to report to the son, but we kept on our course, and he and the son followed us.  We were met by a party, one of whom tried to regale us by vociferous singing and trumpeting on an antelope’s horn, but I declined the deafening honour.  Had we suffered the misleading we should have come here to-morrow afternoon.

A wet bed last night, for it was in the canoe that was upset.  It was so rainy that there was no drying it.