husk. The carrier sometimes has little pockets of dried fish or paste of baked ants, but he is quite a nabob if he possesses such luxuries. He will take a load weighing fifty pounds; sometimes he carries the load on his head, with a ring of reeds as a pad for his head. He always carries a stick, so that when the load is on one shoulder he can pass the stick over the other shoulder and under the load, so that the labor is divided. They have one or two earthen pots among them, and when camp is reached they gather up firewood and start fires, and do their cooking, chaff one another, drink much water, and take snuff till late in the evening. Then their chaff, laughter, singing, and talking cease; they have all dropped asleep, which an African can do without any difficulty at all times and anywhere. With us it is sometimes rather a hard task to go to sleep, especially in this country; for anxiety and responsibility keep the mind of a white man in a state of uneasiness and wakefulness. An average march is fifteen miles; more can be done, but fifteen miles is enough; more unfits the man for the next day's journey. When it rains, and the native is near long grass or shrubbery, he very soon throws a rough roof over his head. The carrier is rationed with a,

ANGONI WARRIOR-ON THE LEFT IS A SECTION OF GROWING STOCKADE (SEE PAGE 597).

entered. They perch on the barrel of your rifle when you are getting a bead on a fidgety buck, and bite in some painful spot just as you are about to pull the trigger. Other insects annoy you. Big moths, inquisitive about your lamp, enter your room at full speed, flutter noisily about your lamp, or try to commit suicide in your soup, leaving the fluff of their wings floating on the surface. The jigger burrows into your flesh, and starts in to raise a family in a little white bag beneath the surface of your skin. The proverbial little ant is a terror to mankind. The large brown driver ant, marching in swarms of millions, with giant ants as leaders and officers, is a dreadful enemy. They move over the ground like a dark-brown ribbon a foot wide, devouring every living thing they meet, from a grasshopper to a goat, if the beast cannot escape. Their heads are

furnished with terrific nippers; if you are bitten, and attempt to pull away the insect, you will find that the head remains in your flesh. They will enter your house; no matter how well filled your larder was before the visit, it will contain nothing but bones afterward. The white ant does not bite you; his particular province is to destroy your most valuable property-your best trunks, your favorite shoes. In one night he will so attack a wooden box that when you lift it in the morning the bottom will drop out; he will eat a living eucalyptus-tree, and when he is in the district the poles of your house in a few months' time will crumble into dust. At a certain stage of his existence he has wings, which he sheds at your meal-times into your dishes. Scorpions and tarantula spiders are only occasionally met. Large beetles come from long distances to see you, and end their journey by striking you in the face. Many insects of smaller caliber settle on the back of your neck, and when you try to brush them off sneak down your back. Small saw-flies feel particularly curious about your right eye when the left one is closed and you are trying to get a bead on a buck.

Fort McGuire, February 24. Many of Makanjira's people came in to submit today-men, women, and children, lean-looking creatures, who have certainly had a hungry time of it. This is a most satisfactory conclusion to the war. It was no victory till now, for the enemy in arms on the hills in

the neighborhood

were

a menace

all the time. At first they could not understand the meaning of allegiance to the Queen; they wished to be under Kasembi, the native chief, but this could not be permitted; they must be under the orders of Captain Edwards. Ali Kiorgwé played his cards well; for he explained that Kasembi was relatively a small boy, while Edwards, as the representative of the Queen, was the father.

Kasembi was forcibly beaten by Makanjira's people, and fled to the hills. The English beat Kuruunda, and put Kasembi in place again; it was only the strength of the English that enabled Kasembi to return. Now the people who came in were all under the orders of the white man. For convenience, head men would be placed over them, who would be permitted to exercise a certain amount of authority. When Ali Kiorgwé had fully explained the situation, all the natives were asked if they agreed to live under the white men. All rose up and swore to obey the whites. Then Edwards set aside a place near the fort where the people could make a temporary camp, and a lot of guns were given to the submitters, who were put in very good humor. Edwards is doing exceedingly well to patch up a peace and get the people to come and live about the fort. They will soon see the advantage of it, and the success of the campaign will be a great blow to slavery.

Makamda, Makanjira's ambassador, told the following story on coming to the fort. He said that among the animals the rabbit had the reputation of knowing good places in the forest and on the plains. When elephants, zebras, leopards, and even lions, decided upon having some jollification, they called in a rabbit and asked him to provide a suitable place for the entertainment; he also was supposed to be an expert at drumming. Then Makamda said, "I am the rabbit,

and I come from Makanjira; he is the lion, and sends me to search a suitable place.»

March 6. The steamer Hermann von Wissmann arrived to-day, with Baron von Eltz and Gillmore on board, the latter to disembark and stay at Fort McGuire as assistant to Edwards. I take passage up to Karonga on this boat. Captain Edwards has done splendid work at Fort McGuire. It is a model station, well built, well conducted, and thorough discipline is paramount. He has transformed what was once a most important slave-center into a powerful stronghold of civilization.

March 7. Left Fort McGuire at about five this morning and slept at Msumba, in Portuguese territory. The Wissmann bought a little wood at the usual price; the wood is three feet long, is piled as high as the width of common calico, and then is sold by the length of the pile at the price of one yard of calico for one yard of wood. There are woodingstations all along the shores of the lake.

March 8. We steamed to Lukomo to-day and visited all the missions. The Lukomo missionaries have spent no time in making themselves comfortable. They have no gardens, and their houses are flimsy things, built of mats principally, and thatched with grass; but they have all good roofs over their heads. They keep the Africans in their places, and

they are doing the best they can to improve the character of the native. Late in the afternoon we reached Bandawé, a Livingstonia mission station. Bandawé seems to be noted for its carpentry and brick-making. There is a nice row of cottages built of brick and roofed with grass, and with good doors and windows. There are houses for the whites, a school-house, joinery shop, and a building for printing. There is a fairly good road running parallel with the houses, but it loses itself in the grass three hundred yards from the lake, in which only a tiny path, almost hidden by overhanging grass, leads. A visitor from the lake gets soaked by brushing his way through the dripping grass.

While at Lukomo I learned that the slavetrade in that district is very brisk. Slaves are brought across over from the Bandawé villages by way of the Lukomo Islands to the mainland in Portuguese territory. A week or two ago a large caravan of two hundred and fifty slaves, carrying the British flag, started from Unaga for the coast; one of the slaves was sold for corn. Caravans are constantly crossing, easily avoiding the gunboats, which make infrequent visits to this portion of the lake. Stations are needed at Jumbé's and at Point Rifu, with well-organized intelligencedepartments attached to each.

March 12. I left Crawshay's place at five in the morning, and reached Karonga about ten o'clock; found there, much to my surprise, three Belgian officers from the Antislavery Society on Lake Tanganyika. The world has to thank Captain Jacques for good work done in destroying the power of the Arab slavers; their favorite hunting-grounds between Tanganyika and the Congo are now no longer safe for them.

March 19. By appointment went out to Kopa-Kopa's stockade. Have always heard it was a very strong place; this is not so. I found Kopa-Kopa very intelligent, and interested to know all about Oha (Europe). I explained to him clearly the spirit of the Brussels Act. If Arabs and coast men decided to trade legitimately, they could stay at peace with the whites and suffer no interference. He told me if he could get together some ivory and plenty of food for the way, he would go to the coast. There was no longer a chance for making money, with slavery stopped, and most of the ivory going direct to Karonga. Three plagues have visited this part of the country in recent years: first, of mice, which ate up the roots of the rice and maize; then came the cattle plague, which attacked beasts both wild and domestic, and killed all the buffaloes; and now the locusts. As I returned from Kopa-Kopa an immense cloud of locusts were darkening the air. They sped along at the rate of four miles an hour, settling on every patch of maize, millet, or sorghum. All the natives were out, old and young, beating drums, shouting, rushing here and there, and beating crops with swishes to drive the pests away. In spite of their efforts the crops will be destroyed. The natives are very careless about the future; knowing well that they are always subject to locusts, they do not take the precaution to grow manioc, which locusts do not eat.

March 21. This morning I left Karonga in a machila for the Ngerengé Mountains, where the Livingstonia mission has stations, of which Dr. Kerr Cross and wife have charge. Dr. Cross has been out here about seven years, and did excellent service during the Karonga war against the Arabs. He has seen several large slave-caravans in forks, but none recently. He feels certain that slaves are still being traded at the Arab stockades. I gave the boy I engaged at Jumbé's a loincloth. The next day I saw a stranger with it. I asked the boy why he had parted with it; he said the stranger had told him he would probably go to England with me, and so he

exchanged the cloth for a pair of white duck trousers, which he thought would be more suitable for the climate there.

March 25. This morning at eight o'clock I went in machila straight to Kopa-Kopa; thence by an easy road for a caravan to Mlozi's stockade, about five miles off. The way led through plantations of maize, etc.; then through a park-like country with fine, short grass, fair-sized trees here and there, and again plantations immediately fronting Mlozi's clear space. The huts, with grass roofs, were crowded together, and there were many grass fences surrounding groups of huts. These are to conceal slaves so that white men may not see; they are supposed to be for general privacy. There were many slaves about, but none in forks, and nothing to suggest the business carried on except two skulls on posts at the outer gate of the stockade. I had a long talk with Mlozi. He says the big caravan captured by the Germans was not his; the ivory was his, but not the slaves. He was very polite, and offered me fowl and curry.

March 31. I started in the Ilala for Deep Bay to see Crawshay, who was very ill. At Senga and in the interior slaves are constantly appealing to Crawshay. During my visit of three days three cases came up. When I was at Mlozi's, a man who gave his name as Kisebau expected a caravan of trade goods at Amelia Bay, and wished to send two men across to get news of it; he asked me to give him a letter to Mr. Crawshay asking permission for the two men to cross. When I reached Deep Bay a day or two afterward I found in a slave-fork a man whom I had never seen before, but this fellow had presented the letter which I gave to Kisebau. It seems that four men appeared, one being a slave, who was being taken across, of course for sale. He was an Awemba who had been forced into a slave fork. The second case was that of a woman who hailed from Senga. She complained that she had been taken in a fight by Awemba, and sold to Kopa-Kopa; he sold her to Kayuni, who was about to send her to the east side of the lake in exchange for cattle or goats. She was released, and Kayuni put into chains and imprisoned. The third case was that of a small boy who looked after goats. He told one of Crawshay's boys that he was a slave who had been bought by Chitapweté at Mperembi's for cloth and hoes. Mperembi's people had captured him in a raiding encounter in the Senga country; the boy was released and the master put in chains.

E. J. Glave.

V.

AM doing it entirely on Mrs. Deering's account,» said my wife that evening after tea, as we walked down the side street that descended from our place to Broadway. «She has that girl on her hands, and I know she must be at her wits' end.»

"And I do it entirely on Deering's account,» I retorted. «He has both of these women on his hands.»

We emerged into the glistening thoroughfare in front the vast hotels, and I was struck, as I never fail to be, with its futile and unmeaning splendor. I think there is nothing in our dun-colored civilization prettier than that habit the ladies have in Saratoga of going out on the street after dark in their bare heads. When I first saw them wandering about so in the glitter of the shop-windows and the fitful glare of the electrics everywhere, I thought they must be some of those Spanish-Americans mistaking the warm, dry air of the Northern night for that of their own latitudes; but when I came up with them I could hear, if I could not see, that they were of our own race. Those flat and shapeless tones could come through the noses of no other. The beauty and the elegance were also ours, and the fearless trust of circumstance. They sauntered up and down before the gaunt, high porticos of the hotels, as much at home as they could have been in their own houses, and in much the same dress as if they had been receiving there. The effect is one of incomparable cheer, and is a promise of social brilliancy which Saratoga no more keeps than she does that of her other characteristic aspects; say the forenoon effect of the same thoroughfare, with the piazzas banked with the hotel guests, and the street full of the light equipages which seem peculiar to the place passing and repassing, in the joyous sunlight and out of it, on the leaf-flecked street. Even the public

carriages of Saratoga have a fresh, unjaded air; and to issue from the railway station in the midst of those buoyant top-phaëtons and surreys, with their light-limbed horses, is to be thrilled by some such insensate expectation of pleasure as fills the heart of a boy at his first sally into the world. I always expect to find my lost youth waiting for me around the corner of the United States Hotel, and I accuse myself of some fault if it disappoints me, as it always does. I can imagine what gaudy hopes by night and by day the bright staging of the potential drama must awaken in the breast of a young girl when she first sees it, and how blank she must feel when the curtain goes down and there has been no play. It was a real anguish to me when that young girl with the Deerings welcomed my wife and me with a hopeful smile, as if we were dramatis persona, and now the performance must be going to begin. I could see how much our chance acquaintance had brightened the perspective for her, and how eagerly she had repaired all her illusions; and I thought how much better it would have been if she had been left to the dull and spiritless resignation in which I had first seen her. From that there could be no fall, at least, and now she had risen from it only to sink again.

But, in fact, the whole party seemed falsely cheered by the event of the afternoon; and in the few moments that we sat with them on their veranda, before going to the music at the Grand Union, I could hear the ladies laughing together, while Deering joyously unfolded to me his plan of going home the next morning, and leaving his wife and Miss Gage behind him. They will stay in this hotel,-they might as well, and I guess they can get along. My wife feels more acquainted since she met Mrs. March, and I sha'n't feel so much like leavin' her among strangers here. I don't know when she 's taken such a fancy to any one as she has to your wife, or Miss Gage either. I guess she'll want to ask her about the stores here.»