_March 3._—I had a visit from Kumpama. He told me that he had been “very busy for some time,” but had now come to see me. As we think ourselves more and more into the natives’ views of life, we must admit that some of them may be “very busy,” though at first we give them credit for being extremely lazy. We were anxious to form an acquaintance with Mkanda, who dealt largely in slaves and was understood to be hostile to the Mission. When first visited by the Missionaries in 1877, he had proved very uncivil, and since then he had often threatened to attack the Mission settlement, which had done so much to ruin the slave trade. Even when Dr. Macklin was returning from Mlanje in 1879, his caravan had been afraid to pass too near this chief, and at the period of Mityoche’s attack on the Mission carriers, Mkanda was believed to be hostile also. Hence he required to be approached with caution. While talking to Kumpama about his neighbours, I asked whether he could give us a guide to Mkanda’s, and he at once consented to do so. It happened also that Kapeni’s “captain” was working at Blantyre, and he was willing to accompany. _March 4._—The Doctor and I started for Mkanda’s along with Kumpama. When we entered Kumpama’s villages he left us with a headman whom he instructed to conduct us to a sub-chief called Sapula. Notwithstanding all our care, we arrived at Sapula’s at a very critical time. The old man came forth and perched on the top of a large rock overlooking our party and said, “Oh yes! at Mkanda’s it is good—very good—plenty of war!” As we looked up to this chief, we might have taken him for an apparition, while his strange utterances reminded us of the responses of an ancient oracle. Soon he explained that Mkanda expected an attack from Chikumbu that very night. The people who lived on this side of Cherasulo were all full of terror, and had fled far up the mountain to spots almost inaccessible. But a man who called himself Mkanda’s father came down among us, and volunteered to be our guide, and after some consultation we proceeded. Mkanda’s village was surrounded by maize which was higher than the houses, so that we were close on it before we were seen. When our party approached, some of those that saw us first were scared and shouted “war”. This is always an awkward thing in Africa, and it now made me quite anxious. Shouting out “war” to a party is much the same as declaring war against them. In cases like this, everything depends on the guide, and Mkanda’s “father” exerted himself and proved equal to the occasion. Soon we mingled with Mkanda’s villagers, and I recognised several that often came to Blantyre for work. Mkanda himself was afraid to appear and kept hiding among the huts, while his people could not refrain from laughing at him. It was not till all his children were sitting about us that he came forth.