medico,
who, entering his beer-cellar, called on two of them to help him to carry
out a huge pot of beer, which he generously presented to us. While the
"medical practitioner" was thus hospitably employed, the chief awoke in a
fright, and shouted to the women to run away, or they would all be
killed. The ladies laughed at the idea of their being able to run away,
and remained beside the beer-pots. We selected a spot for our camp, our
men cooked the dinner as usual, and we were quietly eating it, when
scores of armed men, streaming with perspiration, came pouring into the
village. They looked at us, then at each other, and turning to the chief
upbraided him for so needlessly sending for them. "These people are
peaceable; they do not hurt you; you are killed with beer:" so saying,
they returned to their homes.

Native beer has a pinkish colour, and the consistency of gruel. The
grain is made to vegetate, dried in the sun, pounded into meal, and
gently boiled. When only a day or two old, the beer is sweet, with a
slight degree of acidity, which renders it a most grateful beverage in a
hot climate, or when fever begets a sore craving for acid drinks. A
single draught of it satisfies this craving at once. Only by deep and
long-continued potations can intoxication be produced: the grain being in
a minutely divided state, it is a good way of consuming it, and the
decoction is very nutritious. At Tette a measure of beer is exchanged
for an equal-sized pot full of grain. A present of this beer, so
refreshing to our dark comrades, was brought to us in nearly every
village. Beer-drinking does not appear to produce any disease, or to
shorten life on the hills. Never before did we see so many old, grey-
headed men and women; leaning on their staves they came with the others
to see the white men. The aged chief, Muata Manga, could hardly have
been less than ninety years of age; his venerable appearance struck the
Makololo. "He is an old man," said they, "a very old man; his skin hangs
in wrinkles, just like that on elephants' hips." "Did you never," he was
asked, "have a fit of travelling come over you; a desire to see other
lands and people?" No, he had never felt that, and had never been far
from home in his life. For long life they are not indebted to frequent
ablutions. An old man told us that he remembered to have washed once in
his life, but it was so long since that he had forgotten how it felt.
"Why do you