It will be remembered that the ceremony at Chigunda’s was conducted (though in the presence of the chief and all his people) by women only. I did not hear of any case of twins among these people during the time of our stay, and do not know how they are looked on. I have been told that the Yaos, when twins are born, kill one, but this is an unsupported statement (made by a native, however), which I have not been able to test. It seems clear that the Atonga and other tribes by the lakeside consider them unlucky, and act on that belief in varying degrees. We do not find a special class of rain-doctors apart from the ordinary sorcerer, diviner, or ‘witch-doctor.’ Public ceremonies are conducted—or at least presided over—by the chief, though no doubt the ‘doctor’ is frequently consulted. M. Junod, in the account above referred to, says that the chief gives orders for the women to go out and clean the wells, after having ascertained, through lots cast by the principal diviners, that such a step is necessary. There is no bar, however, to the exercise of special powers by individuals who possess them. Sir Harry Johnston speaks of an old rain-maker named Mwaka Sungula, at the north end of Lake Nyasa. His power extended to wind as well as rain. He was once resorted to by the native crew of the _Domira_ when she stuck on a sandbank, and, as the wind changed during the night following his incantations, he had a triumphant success. There are charms, as might be expected, not only for bringing rain, but for keeping it away. When travelling from the Upper Shiré district to Blantyre towards the close of the rainy season, I found that one of the carriers was provided with _mankwala a mvula_ (rain-medicine) to ensure fair weather during the journey. I inspected this talisman, and found it to consist of two sticks, about a foot long, firmly lashed together with strips of bark, and, inserted between them, a piece of charred wood, and perhaps some other things which I could not clearly make out. He had paid the local practitioner a goat for it. He kept it in his hand on the march, and, from time to time, pointed it towards the quarter from which rain might be expected. It is a fact that none fell till we were within a few miles of the Mission; and Chipanga might have argued that the power of the charm was here neutralised by the more powerful influence of the white men. This brings us to the subject of _mankwala_, variously translated ‘medicine,’ or ‘charms,’ and including what we understand by both terms. I have never been able to ascertain the etymology of the Nyanja word _mankwala_ (a plural without a singular); in Yao, _mtela_, ‘a tree or plant,’ is, like the Zulu _umuti_, used with this meaning. Native doctors, both men and women, often have a very good knowledge of medicinal herbs, but it is the other kind of ‘medicine’ with which we have to do just now.