This is a truthful record of a scene that occurred in my court to-day. If some of the expressions used are rather indelicate I can only excuse myself for repeating them on the plea that they are not to be compared with some other expressions used, but not repeated. Africans call spades "spades," and talk without embarrassment about subjects that are taboo in our drawing-rooms. This morning, without any warning, two Somal ladies were ushered into my presence at court. Ushered, did I say? Rather, two ladies burst into the court dragging at their tails a squad of perspiring policemen, who showed signs of having been engaged in an unsuccessful argument with the women. The imperturbable Somal sub-inspector of police guided one woman into the witness-box, the other into the prisoners' stand. "Well, madam," said I to the one in the witness-box, "what is your trouble?" Both women began to shout. Cries of "Silence" interrupted them, and Buralli, the police inspector, was able to make a little speech. "Sahib, these two women have been fighting like devils. At first I thought the town was afire. We have put this one in the witness-box to keep them apart. As sure as they are within reach of one another they fight like tigers, and attack anyone attempting to drag them apart. They are both prisoners." "Very good. This," pointing my finger at the fat woman in the prisoners' stand, "is accused No. 1. This," at the long gaunt woman in the witness-box, "is accused No. 2. No. 2 will explain what she means by such outrageous conduct." Meanwhile No. 1 lets down her petticoat, which I observe is girded round her loins for other than peaceful, housekeeping purposes. No. 1, with a snort and a toss of her head, allowed the petticoat to fall, and made other adjustments to her dress and person which enabled me to have a closer look at her without blushing. No. 2 proceeded with her story.