his venerable appearance struck the Makololo.  “He is an old man,” said they, “a very old man; his skin hangs in wrinkles, just like that on elephants’ hips.”  “Did you never,” he was asked, “have a fit of travelling come over you; a desire to see other lands and people?” No, he had never felt that, and had never been far from home in his life.  For long life they are not indebted to frequent ablutions.  An old man told us that he remembered to have washed once in his life, but it was so long since that he had forgotten how it felt.  “Why do you wash?” asked Chinsunse’s women of the Makololo; “our men never do.”

The superstitious ordeal, by drinking the poisonous muave, obtains credit here; and when a person is suspected of crime, this ordeal is resorted to.  If the stomach rejects the poison, the accused is pronounced innocent; but if it is retained, guilt is believed to be demonstrated.  Their faith is so firm in its discriminating power, that the supposed criminal offers of his own accord to drink it, and even chiefs are not exempted.  Chibisa, relying on its efficacy, drank it several times, in order to vindicate his character.  When asserting that all his wars had been just, it was hinted that, as every chief had the same tale of innocence to tell, we ought to suspend our judgment.  “If you doubt my word,” said he, “give me the muave to drink.”  A chief at the foot of Mount Zomba successfully went through the ordeal the day we reached his village; and his people manifested their joy at his deliverance by drinking beer, dancing, and drumming for two days and nights.  It is possible that the native doctor, who mixes the ingredients of the poisoned bowl, may be able to save those whom he considers innocent; but it is difficult to get the natives to speak about the matter, and no one is willing to tell what the muave poison consists of.  We have been shown trees said to be used, but had always reason to doubt the accuracy of our informants.  We once found a tree in a village, with many pieces of the bark chipped off, closely allied to the Tangena or Tanghina, the ordeal poison tree of Madagascar; but we could not ascertain any particulars about it.  Death is inflicted on those found guilty of witchcraft, by the muave.

The women wail for the dead two days.  Seated on the ground they chant a few plaintive words, and end each verse with the prolonged sound of a—­a, or o—­o, or ea-ea-ea—­a.  Whatever beer is in the house of the deceased, is poured out on the ground with the meal, and all cooking and water pots are broken, as being of no further use.  Both men and women wear signs of mourning for their dead relatives.  These consist of narrow strips of the palm-leaf wound round the head, the arms, legs, neck, and breasts, and worn till they drop off from decay.  They believe in the existence of a supreme being, called Mpambe, and also Morungo, and in a future state.  “We live only a few days here,” said old Chinsunse, “but we live again after death:  we do not know where, or in what condition, or with what companions, for the dead never return to tell us.  Sometimes the dead do come back, and appear to us in dreams; but they never speak nor tell us where they have gone, nor how they fare.”