by his boat, and was left in close conversation with Chiputula whom he was warning against interfering with Matekenya lest he should bring the Portuguese against himself. The incorrigible chieftain replied that while he was afraid of the English, he did not care for the Portuguese, as he had often fought with their forces near Senna. When Mr. Moir arrived he made an appointment to meet Matekenya on Sunday at a village a day’s journey farther on. Matekenya rules his subjects with a rod of iron so that with Chiputula’s wars on the one hand, and a fearfully despotic government on the other, they are much to be pitied. We found them interesting people. They had never seen white children before, and the two babies were objects of much wonder. When we reached Morumbala marsh we found innumerable flocks of wild fowl. They fell as fast as we could fire and were very acceptable both to ourselves and to the natives. [Illustration: HALTING FOR THE NIGHT ON THE RIVER BANK.] By Monday forenoon we reached the confines of civilization once more and met a French trader who shewed us great kindness. We were now under the shadow of misty Morumbala. We passed the night at Shamo, the abode of Ferrao who sometimes kept Dr. Livingstone from starving amidst the various accidents and incidents of his wanderings. According to native custom the house of the deceased gentleman had been taken down (40.) But as we wandered through the village we met an old servant of Ferrao who volunteered to shew us the spirit (Mulungu) of his master for a present of calico. A Portuguese merchant now occupies the place and sells umbrellas, cups, cloth, and rum for the ground nuts of the natives.