A WAHUMA VILLAGE. 43 thick foliage upon the dark red ground. An almost ghostly silence reigns over all; only at times the mighty banana leaves rustle softly, just as if they dreamed. The ghostly forms of large bats flit through the air; Cosmetornis Speki, the “father of the four wings,” flies silently with its long feathers fluttering; bluish lights mark the trail of large glowworms, and buzzing moths in sombre garb are almost invisible to the eye in the darkness of the night. <A deep, sweet breath - of peace is wafted over the face of nature.

As usual, all my traps were packed up and placed before my hut door, and I myself was ready for the march, sitting under a tree. No porters, however, appeared, and when JI, after waiting for them a whole hour, sent for my guides, they pre-_ ferred not to come, but sent me word that I could unpack my goods again, as they intended to remain here both to-day and to-morrow. At last my patience was exhausted. I sent word to them immediately that they had better take good care of my things, as I intended to set off at once. My words were followed by deeds, and, accompanied only by my few people and the porters who were carrying the ammunition, I started on my way, compass in hand.

Over very high mountainous ground we climbed up to Mount Sempa, the summit of which, tradition says, no human being can ever reach, because hyenas guard the way, warning off wanderers from the mountain. Leaving it to the right, and gradually getting higher, we passed a neat zeriba, and shortly afterwards a village inhabited by dark-coloured Wahuma herdsmen. Six or seven houses for cattle, and two or three for herds, encircled by high, thick, thorn hedges, formed the dirty and neglected compounds, of which there were four or five on the road. On account of the character of the Wahuma, who live almost entirely on milk, cultivation worth naming was not to be seen. A small, newly planted field of sweet potatoes and afew gourd plants twining over the hedges, and that was all. From this height, which is quite covered by granite blocks, a steep descent leads to a swampy plain covered by high grass, through which a small stream flows to the east. This was the first running water we had seen since we left Mruli.

We were now in Muambia, which district I reached last year