the
whole night after it. The moon has no evil influence in this country, so
far as we know. We have lain and looked up at her, till sweet sleep
closed our eyes, unharmed. Four or five of our men were affected with
moon-blindness at Tette; though they had not slept out of doors there,
they became so blind that their comrades had to guide their hands to the
general dish of food; the affection is unknown in their own country. When
our posterity shall have discovered what it is which, distinct from foul
smells, causes fever, and what, apart from the moon, causes men to be
moon-struck, they will pity our dulness of perception.

The men cut a very small quantity of grass for themselves, and sleep in
fumbas or sleeping-bags, which are double mats of palm-leaf, six feet
long by four wide, and sewn together round three parts of the square, and
left open only on one side. They are used as a protection from the cold,
wet, and mosquitoes, and are entered as we should get into our beds, were
the blankets nailed to the top, bottom, and one side of the bedstead.

A dozen fires are nightly kindled in the camp; and these, being
replenished from time to time by the men who are awakened by the cold,
are kept burning until daylight. Abundance of dry hard wood is obtained
with little trouble; and burns beautifully. After the great business of
cooking and eating is over, all sit round the camp-fires, and engage in
talking or singing. Every evening one of the Batoka plays his "sansa,"
and continues at it until far into the night; he accompanies it with an
extempore song, in which he rehearses their deeds ever since they left
their own country. At times animated political discussions spring up,
and the amount of eloquence expended on these occasions is amazing. The
whole camp is aroused, and the men shout to one another from the
different fires; whilst some, whose tongues are never heard on any other
subject, burst forth into impassioned speech.

As a specimen of our mode of marching, we rise about five, or as soon as
dawn appears, take a cup of tea and a bit of biscuit; the servants fold
up the blankets and stow them away in the bags they carry; the others tie
their fumbas and cooking-pots to each end of their carrying-sticks, which
are borne on the shoulder; the cook secures the dishes, and all are on
the path by sunrise. If a convenient spot can be found we halt for
breakfast about nine a.m. To save time, this meal is generall