The time had now come when it was necessary for me to return to Blantyre. There Dr. Laws was waiting with his bride, and we had the prospect of celebrating the first European marriage ever witnessed in this land. Before I left Zomba the supply of calico was low, and Mr. Buchanan had to face his workmen one morning with an empty exchequer. Some grumbled, and said they were to be “cheated”. But the Blantyre men came forward in a body to explain “that the English did not cheat”. I often found that I could be of considerable service when a dispute arose among the negro workmen about wages. As I did not interfere with secular affairs, I was appealed to by the natives as being a neutral party, and I could keep them amused till calmer counsels prevailed. When I set out on my return journey at the end of August, Mr. Buchanan was left to work at Zomba alone. On reaching Blantyre we were much pleased at the arrival of copies of our new books in the native language, which soon gave a fresh impulse to all our school teaching. It was no uncommon thing this half year to see lads in every corner with books in their hands. Formerly we were quite satisfied when they attended to their lessons during school hours, but now there was a revolution, and many began to study with real enthusiasm. The only drawback was that here a book would be read threadbare long before other translations could be printed. In _travelling_ one sees and learns much more than when closely confined to school-work. The days occupied in founding the new station at Zomba were the first I had as yet spent out of Blantyre. As we passed through the country we were often in danger of walking into native traps. Some of these are constructed so as to hang the party that enters, others bring down a log or a heavy stone upon his head. Pitfalls of about five feet deep are dug, and carefully covered over. These are dangerous, and white men often fall into them. But the natives are good observers, and when one knows what they say, he always gets warning in time. In the same way when marching after sunset, they warn each other very faithfully of any stone on the path or any hole in it. Should there be a stone each man says “stone” (liganga) as he comes to it, and the word passes along the whole file with solemn regularity. The red ants are a great trial to the unwary traveller. If he walk for a few minutes upon them, he will feel severe bites all over his body, and will soon be compelled to take off every stitch of clothing. When marching as we did in single file, we are apt to incur peculiar dangers. Most natives carry a bunch of poisoned arrows over the shoulder, and if there be a sudden halt a European needs to be careful that he does not run against the armoury of the man that marches before him. As we passed Cherasulo, which was a great slaving district, we occasionally saw some poor woman standing in a slave-stick. Our carriers showed a desire to go and release such people; and since