Waganda, as I found subsequently, are not in the habit of remaining incurious before a stranger. Hosts of questions were fired off at me about my health, my journey, and its aim, Zanzibar, Europe and its people, the seas and the heavens, sun, moon, and stars, angels and devils, doctors, priests, and craftsmen in general; in fact, as the representative of nations who “know everything,” I was subjected to a most searching examination, and in one hour and ten minutes it was declared unanimously that I had “passed.” Forthwith after the acclamation, the stately bearing became merged into a more friendly one, and long, thin, nervous black hands were pushed into mine enthusiastically, from which I gathered that they applauded me as though I had won the honours of a senior wrangler. Some proceeded direct to the _Kabaka_ and informed him that the white man was a genius, knew everything, and was remarkably polite and sociable, and the _Kabaka_ was said to have “rubbed his hands as though he had just come into the possession of a treasure.” The fruits of the favourable verdict passed upon myself and merits were seen presently in fourteen fat oxen, sixteen goats and sheep, a hundred bunches of bananas, three dozen fowls, four wooden jars of milk, four baskets of sweet-potatoes, fifty ears of green Indian corn, a basket of rice, twenty fresh eggs, and ten pots of maramba wine. Kauta, Mtesa’s steward or butler, at the head of the drovers and bearers of these various provisions, fell on his knees before me and said:— “The _Kabaka_ sends salaams unto his friend who has travelled so far to see him. The _Kabaka_ cannot see the face of his friend until he has eaten and is satisfied. The _Kabaka_ has sent his slave with these few things to his friend that he may eat, and at the ninth hour, after his friend has rested, the _Kabaka_ will send and call for him to appear at the burzah. I have spoken. Twiyanzi-yanzi-yanzi!” I replied suitably, though my politeness was not so excessive as to induce me to kneel before the courtly butler and thank him for permission to say I thanked him. My boat’s crew were amazed at this imperial bounty, which provided more than a bullock apiece for each member of my following. Saramba, the mop-headed guide from Usukuma, was requested to say what he thought of the _Kabaka_, who gave bullocks and goats in proportion as the Usukuma chief gave potatoes to his guests. Saramba’s wits were all this time under a cloud. He was still dressed in the primitive goatskin of his country, as greasy and dingy as a whaling cook’s pan-cloth—the greasiest thing I ever saw. He was stared at, jeered, and flouted by the courtly, cleanly pages of the court, who by this time had taken such keen and complete mental inventories of my features, traits, and points of character as would have put to shame even a Parisian newsmonger. “What land is this undressed pagan from?” asked the pages, loud enough for poor Saramba to hear.