in vain, for they hid in the forest, and feared to come near.  It was common for old men to come forward to me with a present of bananas as I passed, uttering with trembling accents, “Bolongo, Bolongo!” ("Friendship, Friendship!"), and if I stopped to make a little return present, others ran for plantains or palm-toddy.  The Arabs’ men ate up what they demanded, without one word of thanks, and turned round to me and said, “They are bad, don’t give them anything.”  “Why, what badness is there in giving food?” I replied.  “Oh! they like you, but hate us.”  One man gave me an iron ring, and all seemed inclined to be friendly, yet they are undoubtedly bloodthirsty to other Manyuema, and kill each other.

I am told that journeying inland the safe way to avoid tsetse in going to Merere’s is to go to Mdonge, Makinde, Zungomero, Masapi, Irundu, Nyangore, then turn north to the Nyannugams, and thence to Nyembe, and so on south to Merere’s.  A woman chief lies in the straight way to Merere, but no cattle live in the land.  Another insect lights on the animals, and when licked off bites the tongue, or breeds, and is fatal as well as tsetse:  it is larger in size.  Tipo Tipo and Syde bin Ali come to Nyembe, thence to Nsama’s, cross Lualaba at Mpweto’s, follow left bank of that river till they cross the next Lualaba, and so into Lunda of Matiamvo.  Much ivory may be obtained by this course, and it shows enterprise.  Syde bin Habib and Dugumbe will open up the Lualaba this year, and I am hoping to enter the West Lualaba, or Young’s River, and if possible go up to Katanga.  The Lord be my guide and helper.  I feel the want of medicine strongly, almost as much as the want of men.

16th October, 1870.—­Moenemgoi, the chief, came to tell me that Monamyembo had sent five goats to Lohombo to get a charm to kill him.  “Would the English and Kolokolo (Mohamad) allow him to be killed while they were here?” I said that it was a false report, but he believes it firmly:  Monamyembo sent his son to assure us that he was slandered, but thus quarrels and bloodshed feuds arise!

The great want of the Manyuema is national life, of this they have none:  each headman is independent of every other.  Of industry they have no lack, and the villagers are orderly towards each other, but they go no further.  If a man of another district ventures among them, it is at his peril; he is not regarded with more favour as a Manyuema than one of a herd of buffaloes is by the rest:  and he is almost sure to be killed.

Moenekuss had more wisdom than his countrymen:  his eldest son went over to Monamyembo (one of his subjects) and was there murdered by five spear wounds.  The old chief went and asked who had slain his son.  All professed ignorance, whilst some suggested “perhaps the Bahombo did it,” so he went off to them, but they also denied it and laid it at the door of Monamdenda, from whom he got the same reply when he arrived at his place—­no one knew, and so the old man died.  This, though he was heartbroken, was called witchcraft by Monamyembo.  Eleven people were murdered, and after this cruel man was punished he sent a goat with the confession that he had killed Moenekuss’ son.  This son had some of the father’s wisdom:  the others he never could get to act like men of sense.