calico was accordingly sent to show that our intentions were friendly. The reply came that it was too little—the chief wanted more. But by this time his fighting men came rushing in with loaded guns, and assumed threatening attitudes towards our party. Although it was the standard present and the natives with us were determined to stand by it, we sent another to prevent any cause of offence. Still we were told it was too little and another increase followed with the same result. By this time we began to fear that a thorough “brush” was inevitable, and we wished to get out of the village if possible. The other party brandished their guns, and swung them about in a sort of wild war dance. Our own villagers advised them to caution, and cried out, ‘The English are your friends and they could eat you all if they liked’. Some considerations of this kind weighed with them, and the chief told us that we might go. We were much relieved even by this concession. The guide was loud in condemning Mityoche’s conduct, and set off to lead us to Zomba. We left the village, but we had not got two hundred yards away, when we saw a party rushing after us. Some of our last men were seized and stripped, and in a moment we had iron bullets whistling about our ears. Self defence was inevitable, and we fired. We did not act for one moment on the offensive. I had only a small fowling-piece loaded with shot. I discharged both barrels in the air, and reloaded for the purpose of showing how quickly our loading could be done, and then remembering the criticisms on good Bishop Mackenzie we retreated. Fortunately no one was killed or wounded. We thought we were marching on Zomba, but we found that our natives, who were afraid to go farther, were merely taking us across to the Blantyre road. We were much afraid for Buchanan. He might be safe so long as he staid at the station, but what if he should come on, as he indicated in his letter, and enter Mityoche’s village without knowing what sort of a man he had to deal with! We were full of anxiety as we hurried back to Blantyre, which we reached at six P.M. on Wednesday, after twenty-four hours of continuous marching.