ewanika's authority, they are well aware
of the fact that this chief only rules in virtue of the support of the
"Great King" in a far-off land, whom they often hear of, but can never
hope to see.

In consequence of having lived for so many generations in terror of
being raided by their more bellicose neighbours, all these tribes
acclaimed with joy the advent of their English protectors, and their
demeanour is strikingly expressive of gratitude and respect. This is
evinced by their native greeting, which consists of sitting down and
clapping their hands together in a slow rhythm whenever a white man
passes. Sometimes a traveller hears this clapping proceeding out of the
immensely high and thick grass which encloses the road, and he is by
this sound alone made aware of the presence of a human being. Their food
consists entirely of grain, which they greatly prefer to meat, even when
this is offered to them. They boil this grain, which resembles millet or
canary seed, into a sort of porridge, which they eat with the greatest
gusto, and one meal a day seems to suffice them.

And now to describe the fatherland of these natives, just emerging as it
is from darkness and strife to prosperity, peace, and, quite possibly,
riches beyond the dreams of avarice, but in any case riches,
sufficiently proved to enable it to take its place ere long among the
treasure-producing territories of God's earth. Once north of the
Zambesi, and with the thunder of those magnificent Falls still ringing
in one's ears, two things were evident even to the most casual
traveller--viz., the changed aspect of the country and of its
inhabitants. Of the latter and of their quaint greeting I have already
spoken. And as regards the road itself and the surrounding landscape
there is a still greater change. Instead of a track of deep sand blocked
with huge stones or by veritable chasms of soft, crumbling earth, one
finds there good roads, while numerous streams of clear running water
constantly intersect the highway. In England it is difficult to realize
the inestimable boon this plentiful supply of water is to the traveller
and his beasts, who are thereby saved the very serious necessity of
frequently having to push on, weary and thirsty, another stretch of
eight or ten miles, simply because of the oft-heard cry, "No water." The
scenery itself is fair and restful to the eye; there are no huge
mountains, no precipitous dongas, yet an ever-changing kaleidoscope