It was Sunday morning. On reaching Bonwapitse we held a Service under the trees, which was attended by the Chief and his wife and about 100 people. This was one of the many open-air services which will live in the memory. The trees afforded little shade. The almost vertical rays of the South Africa summer sun beat down with merciless severity upon the people gathered together as they joined in singing their hymns and listened with great attention to the words spoken to them, and took part with great devoutness in the prayers which were offered. I proceeded by railway to Gaberones, arriving there between two and three in the morning. Alighting from the train I waited in the darkness until two men appeared with a lantern to conduct me to the Government waggon which Mr. Ellenberger had kindly sent. We in-spanned early in the morning and I was taken to the Residency three miles away, where a warm welcome awaited me. Mr. Ellenberger is the Assistant Commissioner for the Southern portion of the Protectorate. He is the son of a missionary of the Paris Missionary Society who laboured in Basutoland, and his wife is the daughter of the well-known Dr. Casalis of the same Society. I experienced from them the same kindness which was always extended to me by the Government officials, and my two days’ stay at the Residency was altogether delightful. They kindly drove me in the Government cart to Khumakwane, where we found the waggon which had conveyed my luggage on the previous day, awaiting us. Mr. Haydon Lewis, the missionary from Molepolole, met us there with his waggon. Afterwards another open-air service was held under a great tree, in the course of which Mr. Ellenberger spoke to the people in Sechuana, and a business interview followed with the neighbouring Chief, at whose village the Mission Chapel had been burnt some time before at the instigation of a “false prophet.” Mr. Ellenberger drove us to Kolobeng, where we saw the ruins of the house which Livingstone had built seventy years before, and which was destroyed during his absence by the Boers. The outline of the house was quite distinct, and on one side the walls are still standing about 7 feet high. The bricks were of the roughest description, and the marvel is that they have stood the storms of seventy years without disappearing altogether. In Livingstone’s day there was a large town here, but now not a hut is to be seen owing to tribal migration. The Kolobeng river itself has almost disappeared, but its course is clearly marked by a great line of reeds and rushes.