September 16th.—­We have almost finished our work—­on the fifth day from this—­God willing—­we shall march.  I engaged two more pagazis besides two guides, named Asmani and Mabruki.  If vastness of the human form could terrify any one, certainly Asmani’s appearance is well calculated to produce that effect.  He stands considerably over six feet without shoes, and has shoulders broad enough for two ordinary men.

To-morrow I mean to give the people a farewell feast, to celebrate our departure from this forbidding and unhappy country.

September 17th.—­The banquet is ended.  I slaughtered two bullocks, and had a barbacue; three sheep, two goats, and fifteen chickens, 120 lbs. of rice, twenty large loaves of bread made of Indian corn-flour, one hundred eggs, 10 lbs. of butter, and five gallons of sweet-milk, were the contents of which the banquet was formed.  The men invited their friends and neighbours, and about one hundred women and children partook of it.

After the banquet was ended, the pombe, or native beer, was brought in in five gallon pots, and the people commenced their dance, which continues even now as I write.

September 19th.—­I had a slight attack of fever to-day, which has postponed our departure.  Selim and Shaw are both recovered.

About 8 P.M.  Sheik bin Nasib came to me imploring me not to go away to-morrow, because I was so sick.  Thani Sakhburi suggested to me that I might stay another month.  In answer, I told them that white men are not accustomed to break their words.  I had said I would go, and I intended to go.

Sheikh bin Nasib gave up all hope of inducing me to remain another day, and he has gone away, with a promise to write to Seyd Burghash to tell him how obstinate I am; and that I am determined to be killed.  This was a parting shot.

About 10 P.M. the fever had gone.  All were asleep in the tembe but myself, and an unutterable loneliness came on me as I reflected on my position, and my intentions, and felt the utter lack of sympathy with me in all around.  It requires more nerve than I possess, to dispel all the dark presentiments that come upon the mind.  But probably what I call presentiments are simply the impress on the mind of the warnings which these false-hearted Arabs have repeated so often.  This melancholy and loneliness I feel, may probably have their origin from the same cause.  The single candle, which barely lights up the dark shade that fills the corners of my room, is but a poor incentive to cheerfulness.  I feel as though I were imprisoned between stone walls.  But why should I feel as if baited by these stupid, slow-witted Arabs and their warnings and croakings?  I fancy a suspicion haunts my mind, as I write, that there lies some motive behind all this.  I wonder if these Arabs tell me all these things to keep me here, in the hope that I might be induced another time to assist them in their war with Mirambo!  If they think so, they are much