Will you share with them this dish of boiled smoked elephant? It is coarse and stringy; I fear you will not care for a second piece, although every one pronounces it delicious. The roasted monkey is fat and tender. You will enjoy it more if you do not allow yourself to think of its resemblance to a baby. The stewed buffalo ribs served with lemon juice and Cayenne pepper are fine, while we should not disdain the turtle soup if it were brought us in the best hotel in America. The side dishes at this feast are the queerest we have ever seen,--frizzled caterpillars, paste of mashed ants, and toasted crickets. Palm oil has been freely used in the crocodile stew and elephant gravy. Mpuke's friends and relatives are enjoying themselves hugely. They gobble the good things in the most remarkable manner. They are so busy that they are almost silent. They drink large quantities of palm wine as well as the fermented juice of the baobab-tree. Palm wine is very pleasant and refreshing when it is first made. To-morrow, after the visitors have left, Mpuke will show us how to obtain it. He is an obliging little fellow, and will willingly climb a tall palm-tree to the very top, bore deep holes in the wood, and fasten gourds into which the juice will drip. We should drink it at once, before it changes into the sour, intoxicating liquor drunk so freely at the feast. Not many days after the celebration, the rainy season began. During this period the rain does not fall all day long, but comes down in torrents for an hour or two every morning. Very little hunting is done now, but there are such good supplies of smoked elephant and buffalo meat it is not necessary. Mpuke wakes up one morning with great pain in his head, and it does not go away after he gets up. He says to himself, "I am afraid some bad spirit bewitched me while I was dreaming last night." But he says nothing about his bad feelings to his mother. He is afraid she will think of the sleeping sickness. He does not want her to worry, so he will wait awhile and perhaps the pain will go away. The sleeping sickness is the most terrible visitor in an African home. There is little hope for the one who has it. Sometimes the sufferer is ill for a few weeks only, but again he may linger for a year before death comes. The illness begins with a severe headache; next comes swelling of the body, like dropsy; in the last stage, the dying person dozes or sleeps all of the time. With our little Mpuke, a day and a night pass and his headache grows worse and worse. His body is first hot and feverish, then shivering with a chill. His mother begins to notice how slowly he moves, and how hard it seems for him to do his work. "You must lie on your mat in the hut, my dear one," she says to the boy. "The charm doctor shall be sent for; he will drive away the evil spirit that is making my child so sick."