a painful sense of their extreme degradation. My own Batoka were
much more degraded than the Barotse, and more reckless. We had to keep
a strict watch, so as not to be involved by their thieving from the
inhabitants, in whose country and power we were. We had also to watch
the use they made of their tongues, for some within hearing of the
villagers would say, "I broke all the pots of that village," or, "I
killed a man there." They were eager to recount their soldier deeds,
when they were in company with the Makololo in former times as a
conquering army. They were thus placing us in danger by their remarks. I
called them together, and spoke to them about their folly, and gave
them a pretty plain intimation that I meant to insist upon as complete
subordination as I had secured in my former journey, as being necessary
for the safety of the party. Happily, it never was needful to resort to
any other measure for their obedience, as they all believed that I would
enforce it.

In connection with the low state of the Batoka, I was led to think on
the people of Kuruman, who were equally degraded and equally depraved.
There a man scorned to shed a tear. It would have been "tlolo", or
transgression. Weeping, such as Dr. Kane describes among the Esquimaux,
is therefore quite unknown in that country. But I have witnessed
instances like this: Baba, a mighty hunter--the interpreter who
accompanied Captain Harris, and who was ultimately killed by a
rhinoceros--sat listening to the Gospel in the church at Kuruman, and
the gracious words of Christ, made to touch his heart, evidently by the
Holy Spirit, melted him into tears; I have seen him and others sink down
to the ground weeping. When Baba was lying mangled by the furious beast
which tore him off his horse, he shed no tear, but quietly prayed as
long as he was conscious. I had no hand in his instruction: if these
Batoka ever become like him, and they may, the influence that effects it
must be divine.

A very large portion of this quarter is covered with masuka-trees,
and the ground was so strewed with the pleasant fruit that my men kept
eating it constantly as we marched along. We saw a smaller kind of
the same tree, named Molondo, the fruit of which is about the size of
marbles, having a tender skin, and slight acidity of taste mingled with
its sweetness. Another tree which is said to yield good fruit is named
Sombo, but it was not ripe at this season.

DECEMBER 6TH. We passed t