“Here,” said I, uncorking a vial of medicinal brandy, “is the Kisungu pombe " (white man’s beer); “take a spoonful and try it,” at the same time handing it.

“Hacht, hacht, oh, hacht,! what! eh! what strong beer the white men have!  Oh, how my throat burns!”

“Ah, but it is good,” said I, “a little of it makes men feel strong, and good; but too much of it makes men bad, and they die.”

“Let me have some,” said one of the chiefs; “and me,” " and me,” “and me,” as soon as each had tasted.

“I next produced a bottle of concentrated ammonia, which as I explained was for snake bites, and head-aches; the Sultan immediately complained he had a head-ache, and must have a little.  Telling him to close his eyes, I suddenly uncorked the bottle, and presented it to His Majesty’s nose.  The effect was magical, for he fell back as if shot, and such contortions as his features underwent are indescribable.  His chiefs roared with laughter, and clapped their hands, pinched each other, snapped their fingers, and committed many other ludicrous things.  I verily believe if such a scene were presented on any stage in the world the effect of it would be visible instantaneously on the audience; that had they seen it as I saw it, they would have laughed themselves to hysteria and madness.  Finally the Sultan recovered himself, great tears rolling down his cheeks, and his features quivering with laughter, then he slowly uttered the word “kali,”—­hot, strong, quick, or ardent medicine.  He required no more, but the other chiefs pushed forward to get one wee sniff, which they no sooner had, than all went into paroxysms of uncontrollable laughter.  The entire morning was passed in this state visit, to the mutual satisfaction of all concerned.  “Oh,” said the Sultan at parting, “these white men know everything, the Arabs are dirt compared to them!”

That night Hamdallah, one of the guides, deserted, carrying with him his hire (27 doti), and a gun.  It was useless to follow him in the morning, as it would have detained me many more days than I could afford; but I mentally vowed that Mr. Hamdallah should work out those 27 doti of cloths before I reached the coast.

Wednesday, October 4th, saw us travelling to the Gombe River, which is 4 h. 15 m. march from Manyara.

We had barely left the waving cornfields of my friend Ma-manyara before we came in sight of a herd of noble zebra; two hours afterwards we had entered a grand and noble expanse of park land, whose glorious magnificence and vastness of prospect, with a far-stretching carpet of verdure darkly flecked here and there by miniature clumps of jungle, with spreading trees growing here and there, was certainly one of the finest scenes to be seen in Africa.  Added to which, as I surmounted one of the numerous small knolls, I saw herds after herds of buffalo and zebra, giraffe and antelope, which sent the blood coursing through my veins in the excitement of the moment, as when I first landed on African soil.  We crept along the plain noiselessly to our camp on the banks of the sluggish waters of the Gombe. ’