but the chief was very angry, and came with all his
force, exclaiming that I wanted to leave against his will and power,
though he wished to adjust matters, and send me away nicely. He does
not believe that we have no blankets. It is hard to be kept waiting
here, but all may be for the best: it has always turned out so, and I
trust in Him on whom I can cast all my cares. The Lord look on this
and help me. Though I have these nine boys, I feel quite alone.

I gave the chief some seeds, peas, and beans, for which he seemed
thankful, and returned little presents of food and beer frequently.
The beer of maere is stuffed full of the growing grain as it begins to
sprout, it is as thick as porridge, very strong and bitter, and goes
to the head, requiring a strong digestion to overcome it.

_February, 1867._--I showed the chief one of the boys' blankets,
which he is willing to part with for two of our cloths, each of which
is larger than it, but he declines to receive it, because we have new
ones. I invited him, since he disbelieved my assertions, to look in
our bales, and if he saw none, to pay us a fine for the insult: he
consented in a laughing way to give us an ox. All our personal
intercourse has been of the good-natured sort. It is the
communications to the boys, by three men who are our protectors, or
rather spies, that is disagreeable; I won't let them bring those
fellows near me.

_10th February, 1867._--He came early in the morning, and I showed
that I had no blanket, and he took the old one, and said that the
affair was ended. A long misunderstanding would have been avoided, had
Abraham told me fully what the chief said at first.

_16th February, 1867._--The chief offered me a cow for a piece of red
serge, and after a deal of talk and Chitapangwa swearing that no
demand would be made after the bargain was concluded, I gave the
serge, a cloth, and a few beads for a good fat cow. The serge was two
fathoms, a portion of that which Miss Coutts gave me when leaving
England in 1858.

The chief is not so bad, as the boys are so cowardly. They assume a
chirping, piping tone of voice in speaking to him, and do not say what
at last has to be said, because in their cringing souls they believe
they know what should be said better than I do. It does not strike
them in the least that I have grown grey amongst these people; and it
is immense conceit in mere boys to equal themselves to me. The
difficulty is greater, because w