spectators, instantly killing the chief and twenty of his people.  The survivors fled in horror.  The children and young women were seized as slaves, and the village sacked.  Sequasha sent the message to Namakusuru:  “I have killed the lion that troubled you; come and let us talk over the matter.”  He came and brought the ivory.  “No,” said the half-caste, “let us divide the land:”  and he took the larger share for himself, and compelled the would-be usurper to deliver up his bracelets, in token of subjection on becoming the child or vassal of Sequasha.  These were sent in triumph to the authorities at Tette.  The governor of Quillimane had told us that he had received orders from Lisbon to take advantage of our passing to re-establish Zumbo; and accordingly these traders had built a small stockade on the rich plain of the right bank of Loangwa, a mile above the site of the ancient mission church of Zumbo, as part of the royal policy.  The bloodshed was quite unnecessary, because, the land at Zumbo having of old been purchased, the natives would have always of their own accord acknowledged the right thus acquired; they pointed it out to Dr. Livingstone in 1856 that, though they were cultivating it, is was not theirs, but white man’s land.  Sequasha and his mate had left their ivory in charge of some of their slaves, who, in the absence of their masters, were now having a gay time of it, and getting drunk every day with the produce of the sacked villages.  The head slave came and begged for the musket of the delinquent ferryman, which was returned.  He thought his master did perfectly right to kill Mpangwe, when asked to do it for the fee of ten tusks, and he even justified it thus:  “If a man invites you to eat, will you not partake?”

We continued our journey on the 28th of June.  Game was extremely abundant, and there were many lions.  Mbia drove one off from his feast on a wild pig, and appropriated what remained of the pork to his own use.  Lions are particularly fond of the flesh of wild pigs and zebras, and contrive to kill a large number of these animals.  In the afternoon we arrived at the village of the female chief, Ma-mburuma, but she herself was now living on the opposite side of the river.  Some of her people called, and said she had been frightened by seeing her son and other children killed by Sequasha, and had fled to the other bank; but when her heart was healed, she would return and live in her own village, and among her own people.  She constantly inquired of the black traders, who came up the river, if they had any news of the white man who passed with the oxen.  “He has gone down into the sea,” was their reply, “but we belong to the same people.”  “Oh no; you need not tell me that; he takes no slaves, but wishes peace:  you are not of his tribe.”  This antislavery character excites such universal attention, that any missionary who winked at the gigantic evils involved in the slave-trade would certainly fail to produce any good impression on the native mind.