As one strays through the Sacred Enclosure, thoughts come:—What were the relative positions of magic and religion, especially in the complicated and closely observed Phallic worship of these ancients; whence the zodiacal, astronomical, and geometrical knowledge of the builders; what of the touch of tragedy in their exodus or departure; the exact meaning of the granite, slate, and carved soapstone monoliths on the summits of the walls; the origin of the occupiers; was Rhodesia the Havilah of Genesis; did it provide the Solomonic gold; of the close kinship of these successful ancient gold-seekers from Yemen or Tyre and Sidon to the Hebrews of Palestine; and of their intimate connection in origin, language, and neighbourhood which Holy Writ abundantly declares existed from the ninth chapter of Genesis until Paul preached in Phœnicia? Gazing at the Sacred Tower, one thinks of the Tower of Siloam, and of the “high places” of Samaria, and of the times when even this form of worship became the state religion of Judah under Ahaziah; and sitting at the conjectured site of the ancient altar, where the writer has found in numbers the stone emblems of their faith, thoughts arise of the Bethel stones of the Hebrews, the Bethûl or “the dwelling-places of God” of the Phœnicians, and the Penuel or “Face of God” of the Midianites. The Law of Moses adapts the rules and customs and ideas and forms of worship of far greater antiquity than the Mosaic times. So the new faith of every age borrows from the old, and the mighty processions of civilisations and faiths which have encircled this earth from very far back beyond the days of Abraham go on their even course. But we must leave the temple and return to camp. There is still the great Zimbabwe owl sitting on his favourite bough near the “high place.” The six-foot python crawls in and out of the stones of the ancient altar. Brightly coloured lizards bask on the once consecrated walls. Blue jays, honey-birds, and doves here find a shelter. The trees, orchid-clad and lichen-festooned, throw a weird shadow over all. Possibly ancients are sleeping near. As one passes out through the entrance into the full glare of an African noontide, one feels as if one had just returned from the far distant mystic past to modern life, for a naked Makalanga waits there with the message that Sunday lunch was cooked and waiting. • • • • • _Midnight in an ancient temple._—It was the night of the full moon nearest to Midsummer Day in the Southern Hemisphere, and towards midnight the large population of Makalanga round Zimbabwe would be celebrating the feast of the full moon with dancing, singing, and _doro_ drinking. This was evidently a special feast, for its advent had been the theme of conversation among our labourers for the past fortnight, and, unlike the other feasts, it was held simultaneously in each kraal, and not at different kraals in turn on alternate occasions.