_Nov. 29._—On the 29th we moved down river four miles to Mburri, on the left bank, which is opposite Vinarunga, which is a large settlement of Wenya villages on the right bank. From our camp compass bearings showed Ukassa or Ussi Hills on right bank to be south-south-west (magnetic). Just as we were retiring for the night, a canoe came down river, and cautiously made its way towards the boat. Shumari, the young brother of Uledi, who was on guard, waited until it was well within shore, and then suddenly seized the canoe-man, calling for assistance on the ever-ready boat’s crew. The native was secured, and carried in before me; and when lights were brought we saw he was an old man bent almost double with age. His face was one of the most vicious my memory can recall. I presented him with about a dozen cowries, which he snatched from me as a surly dog might bite at a piece of meat from a stranger’s hand. He was a true savage, hardened by wildness, and too old to learn. We put him back into his canoe, and set him adrift to find his way home. An hour later, another stranger was found in the camp. He was also caught and brought to me. He was a lad of sixteen or seventeen years of age, a facsimile in miniature of the older savage. I smiled kindly, and conversed softly. I presented him with a string of bright red beads, and filled one of his hands with shells, and then I had him asked some questions. He replied to five, when he said he was tired, and would answer no more. We set a guard over him for the night, and in the morning permitted him to depart. I confessed my impotence to charm the savage soul. As we were about to leave camp, three canoes advanced towards us from the Ukassa side of the river. Through our interpreters we spoke to them mildly, requested to know what offence we had committed, or whom we had harmed, to inspire them with such mortal hatred of strangers. Would they not make a bond of friendship with us? We had beads, cloth, brass, copper, iron, with which to buy food, goats, bananas, corn. They listened attentively, and nodded their heads in approval. They asked if we would beat our drum for their amusement. Kadu, one of Mtesa’s pages, who was an expert at the art, was called and commanded to entertain them after the best Kiganda fashion. Kadu seized his drum- sticks and drum, and after a few preliminary taps dashed out a volume of sound that must have been listened to with unbounded admiration by many hundreds of savages crouching in the woods. “Ah,” said the poor naked, mop-headed wretches, “it is delightful!” and they clapped their hands gleefully—and paddled away rapidly down river, steering for the right bank.