The few Senna merchants, having little or no trade in the village, send parties of trusted slaves into the interior to hunt for and purchase ivory.  It is a dull place, and very conducive to sleep.  One is sure to take fever in Senna on the second day, if by chance one escapes it on the first day of a sojourn there; but no place is entirely bad.  Senna has one redeeming feature:  it is the native village of the large-hearted and hospitable Senhor H. A. Ferrao.  The benevolence of this gentleman is unbounded.  The poor black stranger passing through the town goes to him almost as a matter of course for food, and is never sent away hungry.  In times of famine the starving natives are fed by his generosity; hundreds of his own people he never sees except on these occasions; and the only benefit derived from being their master is, that they lean on him as a patriarchal chief, and he has the satisfaction of settling their differences, and of saving their lives in seasons of drought and scarcity.

Senhor Ferrao received us with his usual kindness, and gave us a bountiful breakfast.  During the day the principal men of the place called, and were unanimously of opinion that the free natives would willingly cultivate large quantities of cotton, could they find purchasers.  They had in former times exported largely both cotton and cloth to Manica and even to Brazil.  “On their own soil,” they declared, “the natives are willing to labour and trade, provided only they can do so to advantage:  when it is for their interest, blacks work very hard.”  We often remarked subsequently that this was the opinion of men of energy; and that all settlers of activity, enterprise, and sober habits had become rich, while those who were much addicted to lying on their backs smoking, invariably complained of the laziness of the negroes, and were poor, proud, and despicable.

Beyond Pita lies the little island Nyamotobsi, where we met a small fugitive tribe of hippopotamus hunters, who had been driven by war from their own island in front.  All were busy at work; some were making gigantic baskets for grain, the men plaiting from the inside.  With the civility so common among them the chief ordered a mat to be spread for us under a shed, and then showed us the weapon with which they kill the hippopotamus; it is a short iron harpoon inserted in the end of a long pole, but being intended to unship, it is made fast to a strong cord of milola, or hibiscus, bark, which is wound closely round the entire length of the shaft, and secured at its opposite end.  Two men in a swift canoe steal quietly down on the sleeping animal.  The bowman dashes the harpoon into the unconscious victim, while the quick steersman sweeps the light craft back with his broad paddle; the force of the blow separates the harpoon from its corded handle, which, appearing on the surface, sometimes with an inflated bladder attached, guides the hunters to where the wounded beast hides below until they despatch it.