The industrial work was prosecuted with vigour, many natives being employed in making roads. When the bugle sounded on Monday morning, there was a rush of hundreds of men and women who had come to receive employment. One artisan stood ready to select as many workers as he wanted, and he was soon hidden from view as the people crowded around him. Before enrolling the candidates he looked at their hoes and axes, and rejected such as had inferior tools. He rejected also women that had babies on their backs, but when this became known to a native mother, she handed her child to some one else until her name was once on the book. As the native names were sometimes very long, the artisan had a great demand on his powers of writing. “And what’s your name?” he asks. “Unechemtyosyamaguluwe.”[4] “Tut, man, the half of that will do!” is the rejoinder; and a high sounding name like Emmanuel is reduced to Emma. _Visitors._—For several days after our arrival there was great excitement. Our larger room had four windows, which were thrown open to admit the air, and every morning a crowd gathered at each window to see the white lady! The natives of the Chiri Highlands had seen white men before, but they had scarcely realised that women too would be disfigured by this strange complexion. Some visitors asked an introduction to the newcomer on the ground that “they were women too”. We had to shake hands with all the groups. This was not a native salutation, but we wished to be cordial towards our black brothers and sisters. After grasping a score of dark hands, our own partook of a similar hue. A stranger might feel inclined to wash his hands after the ceremony, but he would return to find that more visitors had come, and that the whole process had to be repeated. The natives are not much inconvenienced by “matter out of place”. Even persons that came from working clay would advance and hold out their hands. But they had good excuse. At this season they had no water on the spot except a little for softening their clay, nor had they any towels. Their loin-cloth seemed often too scanty for wiping the fingers. But in later times when we visited the villages, we have seen women run off to wash their hands, that the English lady might have a proper welcome.