Already Kumlomba and his brethren were loudly declaring that some of the refugees were very bad men, and could not live in peace. One grave offender they escorted back to his master. I watched this experiment with much interest, and Kumlomba’s men were able to tell me the effect. As they went along with the slave they rested in many villages and talked the matter over, and the villagers made the remark that the slave’s master was “very fortunate”. Arrived at their destination, the Blantyre headman said, “Here is your man, he will not stay peaceably with us,” and the slave’s master thought that he had found “rare luck!” Often slaves left a master for slight reasons. Many a woman ran away because her husband had bought more wives, or because he would not sew her clothes! Perhaps the poor creature inferred from such indications of neglect that she was destined to be the prey of the first slave-dealer. All that we could do for these refugees was to try that their application to the Mission should not compromise them when they returned to their home. On one occasion we asked some Blantyre people to accompany two run-aways with the view of interceding for them with their chief. On the way, however, the slaves dashed off from their guides and were not heard of again! Sadder cases occurred where slaves tried to escape immolation—they were going to be buried with their master, and craved the Mission’s protection. We saw some painful cases where the slave and his master were both present and both appealing to us. Once a young man and his mother came and begged most earnestly to be allowed to stay at the Mission. The woman represented that her husband had just been murdered by a headman who wanted to take her for a wife. She said that the murder had been committed for the very purpose of carrying out this marriage, and protested that she would not go to the harem of the man who had slain her husband. The Chief Kapeni was the uncle of this unscrupulous headman, and came over, claiming the young lad and his mother too, and asserting his right to dispose of them both. The party begging protection were in a state of frantic excitement. As we explained our position, they cried, “Oh Father, cut our throats here, we will die here, do not send us back with Kapeni”. I said to Kapeni, “Would it be right in us to protect you if you were running from a man that sought to kill you?” He replied, “It would be right,” adding, “I do not want to kill the lad, and if you come over to my village you will find him alive”. The first time I visited Kapeni after this event, I saw the young man, but on no subsequent visit could I find a trace of him! Another case struck me as being unspeakably sad. It arose in the following manner:—As two boys were playing at Kapeni’s, the son of Mtambo was killed by his companion, a lad of 13 years. All admitted that the death was purely accidental. The lad’s mother was a widow with six children; one of her daughters was