adventurers owed their freedom to the fact that there did not happen to be a Portuguese gunboat in Delagoa Bay, as there usually was. Doubtless, however, that absence had been taken into consideration. This was the last occasion but one on which I saw my friend Rhodes. The last was when he came off to my ship at Quillimane, a short time after this, to bring some ivory tusks for home, to get some Eno’s fruit salt, and if possible a toothbrush, and chiefly to see me. It seems that he had got some great shooting concession from a chief up country and was going the next day to take possession of it. We had a long yarn about mutual friends, and that was the last of him, for some accident happened at the camp fire the next day, and he was so burned that death in agony was the end of a man who in my mind always stands as an embodiment of Charles Ravenshoe. About this time I had as passenger the late Arthur Sketchly, of “Mrs. Brown” fame, going out to write that lady’s adventures in South Africa. He was a man of great bulk and moved slowly. One night at dinner, some boys were very happy and jolly. He turned to me, saying, “Young men! Young men! they can run, jump, laugh, eat, make love, do anything. Ugh, I hate ’em!” On my next passage from home we got a very severe dusting just south of the Bay of Biscay. I find by my notes that we lost a lifeboat, got the bridge rails smashed, man washed from the wheel, and various other damages; but these things will happen at times. We got to Algoa Bay on December 25, 1879, and there the fun began concerning the ox and goat being landed in an unauthorised manner, and I was liable for all sorts of fines. Further, I was told that the Zanzibar agent had written about a “buffalo and a calf,” and these were not as described. Given these circumstances there can be lots of correspondence and, as in this case, serious results. About this time I was in severe domestic trouble, such as shakes a man to his foundations, but fortunately, perhaps, if you happen to be a cogwheel of a machine you are kept grinding and so have less time to brood over the workings of fate. I was thankful for the companionship of two of my passengers, one Herbert De La Rue, and the other Fred Struben, both of whom are now well-known men. We got to Zanzibar, and there it was reported to me that the agent had been spreading reports concerning my sobriety when I left the port on the previous voyage. I did not concern myself about this until the agent made the statement to my chief officer. It was all over the “ox and goat,” for the statement was that I was told in good plain English by the agent that they were a present to me from the Sultan, but I was not in a fit state to comprehend what was said. Now on the morning in question I had been, as I have said, to the Sultan’s levee and had not touched intoxicants at the time of leaving port. The inference that coffee and sherbet had influenced me was of course unbearable.