The mother of the bridegroom takes the pay and goes to the house of the bride, the groom and his best man following. They put up a booth near the kraal of the bride for the groom to occupy. We enter the village and find the relatives of the bride, from far and near, assembled for the wedding, for all these expect to receive some of the pay. The women and the girls gather and begin to sing the marriage song, the tune of which is always the same, but the words are improvised for the occasion. One of the older ones will lead off and say, "This girl is going to be married," and the rest will assent by singing in unison, again, "We shall receive some hoes, so that we may dig our gardens," and again the response. All this is done in a monotonous but not altogether unmusical manner. Another will take up the lead, and a day or two will be consumed in this way until everything that can be thought of in reference to marriage, good, bad, and indifferent, is repeated in song. The bride, however, is not among the singers. We pass through the village and a young woman beckons us to enter a hut. The other women greet us, but our guide with a smile mysteriously leads us into an inner chamber. Here is a young woman, greased from head to foot, so much so that the grease drips from her body. A blanket is thrown around her and over her head, and she keeps her eyes down in a miserable-looking fashion, as if she were crying or pouting, and never by the least sign acknowledges our presence. We are new to the situation, but it suddenly dawns upon us that this is the bride. We inquire, "What is the trouble? Does she not wish to be married?" "Oh, yes," is the answer, "but she must be sad because she is a bride." [Illustration: Native Women--Widows.]