The lad that was our pilot here had been at Blantyre for a few months, and he showed us great attention. We always pressed on during night. One can go down the Kwagwa at a beautiful rate. As soon as the terrible sun was set I made a point of getting hold of a pole, when we had great amusement in endeavouring to race with the light canoes. I thus secured a few hours’ exercise, which is one of the best antidotes to fever in this pestilential district. On Monday the 5th we passed Mugurumbe, and reached a sleeping place about one o’clock next morning. The vegetation is so dense that one cannot land on the bank just where he chooses. There are but few places so clear that we could light a fire, and of these many are found already occupied by numbers of other travellers. But when one party arrives certain of the others will often make a fresh start. Night and day are much the same to the travellers on this river. Our sleeping station of Tuesday morning became a scene of confusion. When our boat reached it a score of natives began to appeal to me on civil matters. I was inclined to smile at the situation. Some people that ought to have known better had taken me for a civil magistrate before, and now I am to be pressed into that service again! All explanations were useless. “Master, here—a boy has been stabbed!” The knife with which the wound had been inflicted is thrust into my hands, while our men pointed out that it had been bent in the rencontre. [Illustration: THE KWAGWA.] I felt as sick of the matter as an English jury when shut in to give a decision. I said I was suffering from want of sleep, but what was want of sleep to them! Native patience is sometimes great, and native eloquence long. The “Governor of Quilimane” was an expression that I tried to conjure with, but without effect, and in the end I had to beseech them to defer the matter, and it was only after I promised to listen to them next day that I obtained this concession. Next morning as soon as I awoke the palaver began, and to my astonishment an old Portuguese came out of one of the sack-beds, and requested my interference. He was the “other party” in the transaction. He had landed here the previous night, and as he slept in a mat on the bank, some natives stole most of his clothing and some of his goods. A little after, he found another native (not the actual thief) prowling about, and put his knife into him. The old man was now determined not to go away until his property was restored. I told him that the thief was not one of my boatmen, neither was the other unfortunate lad, and that I was merely a traveller and could not interfere. It was a strange spectacle, the two white men unable to speak to each other except through the medium of two black interpreters! As I explained my position to my brother European he looked at his own interpreter, and they agreed that my interpreter was against them, and was not translating properly. He knew “that the governor of Quilimane