of sand.  Ferajji was considerably exercised at a threat I made to him that on arrival at Zanzibar, I would get the great English doctor there to open my stomach, and count every grain of sand found in it, for each grain of which Ferajji should be charged one dollar.  The consciousness that my stomach must contain a large number, for which the forfeits would be heavy, made him feel very sad at times.  Otherwise, Ferajji was a good cook, most industrious, if not accomplished.  He could produce a cup of tea, and three or four hot pancakes, within ten minutes after a halt was ordered, for which I was most grateful, as I was almost always hungry after a long march.  Ferajji sided with Baraka against Bombay in Unyoro, and when Speke took Bombay’s side of the question, Ferajji, out of love for Baraka, left Speke’s service, and so forfeited his pay.

Maganga was a Mnyamwezi, a native of Mkwenkwe, a strong, faithful servant, an excellent pagazi, with an irreproachable temper.  He it was who at all times, on the march, started the wildly exuberant song of the Wanyamwezi porters, which, no matter how hot the sun, or how long the march, was sure to produce gaiety and animation among the people.  At such times all hands sang, sang with voices that could be heard miles away, which made the great forests ring with the sounds, which startled every animal big or little, for miles around.  On approaching a village the temper of whose people might be hostile to us, Maganga would commence his song, with the entire party joining in the chorus, by which mode we knew whether the natives were disposed to be friendly or hostile.  If hostile, or timid, the gates would at once be closed, and dark faces would scowl at us from the interior; if friendly, they rushed outside of their gates to welcome us, or to exchange friendly remarks.

An important member of the Expedition was Selim, the young Arab.  Without some one who spoke good Arabic, I could not have obtained the friendship of the chief Arabs in Unyanyembe; neither could I have well communicated with them, for though I understood Arabic, I could not speak it.

I have already related how Kalulu came to be in my service, and how he came to bear his present name.  I soon found how apt and quick he was to learn, in consequence of which, he was promoted to the rank of personal attendant.  Even Selim could not vie with Kalulu in promptness and celerity, or in guessing my wants at the table.  His little black eyes were constantly roving over the dishes, studying out the problem of what was further necessary, or had become unnecessary.