‘In old days the Lake was small as a brook. Then there came a man out of the west with a silver sceptre.’ (The story is ‘taken down from native lips’; I do not know what is the original wording in this place; but we may suppose that the Lake people knew silver through the coast traders even before they were acquainted with Europeans. In any case, the ‘silver sceptre’ need not prove the story to be a recent invention; one constantly finds touches of ‘actuality’ introduced by the tellers of these tales.) ‘He married, and brought his wife to return with him to his country. She consented, and her brother said, “Yes, and I will go too.” But his brother-in-law said, “I will not have you go too.” Then he wept bitterly for his sister, when he saw her cross the lake, and he grew very angry, and he took his stick and struck the water, till it swelled up and covered all things and became a flood. Then the woman and her brother died, both of them together, and the corpse of the woman went to the north, and that of her brother to the south. When a cloud weeps in the south, the sister rests quietly in the north, and when a cloud appears and weeps in the north, the brother rests quietly in the south.’ In another chapter we shall find a legend of a river struck with a staff with the opposite purpose, viz., to make a passage through it. It is possible that these may be echoes of the Biblical stories heard from the missionaries, though, as a matter of fact, I do not think this is the case. In the last chapter I spoke of magic as distinguished from religion. By the latter I mean appeals to—or attempts to propitiate—some unseen, superior powers, whether these be thought of as ancestral spirits, nature-powers, or what we generally understand by a Deity. Magic, on the other hand, consists in performing certain actions which will, in some occult way, have such an effect on natural forces as to produce the result desired; that is to say (to put it roughly), it enables man to control nature on his own account. I must confess, however, that I do not always see where the line should be drawn, and have included several matters in this chapter without attempting to decide how they should be classified. Usually people attempt to do magic on the principle that like produces like—as when water is poured out on the ground in the hope of bringing rain. It will be remembered that, when we spoke in the last chapter of Chigunda’s people calling on Mpambe for rain, it was said that the ceremony concluded with ‘a rain-charm.’ This is described as follows:—‘The dance ceased, a large jar of water was brought and placed before the chief; first Mbudzi (his sister) washed her hands, arms, and face; then water was poured over her by another woman; then all the women rushed forward with calabashes in their hand, and dipping them into the jar, threw the water into the air with loud cries and wild gesticulations.’