HIS CHAEACTER. 103 



might have paid dearly for his obstructiveness. Sebituane knew 

 every thing that happened in the country, for he had the art of 

 gaining the affections both of his own people and of strangers. 

 When a party of poor men came to his town to sell their hoes or 

 skins, no matter how ungainly they might be, he soon knew them 

 all. A company of these indigent strangers, sitting far apart from 

 the Makololo gentlemen around the chief, would be surprised to 

 see him come alone to them, and, sitting down, inquire if they 

 were hungry. He would order an attendant to bring meal, milk, 

 and honey, and, mixing them in their sight, in order to remove 

 any suspicion from their minds, make them feast, perhaps for the 

 first time in their lives, on a lordly dish. Delighted beyond meas- 

 ure with his affability and liberality, they felt their hearts warm 

 toward him, and gave him all the information in their power ; and 

 as he never allowed a party of strangers to go away without giv- 

 ing every one of them, servants and all, a present, his praises were 

 sounded far and wide. " He has a heart ! he is wise I" were the 

 usual expressions we heard before we saw him. 



He was much pleased with the proof of confidence we had 

 shown in bringing our children, and promised to take us to see his 

 country, so that we might choose a part in which to locate our- 

 selves. Our plan was, that I should remain in the pursuit of my 

 objects as a missionary, while Mr. Oswell explored the Zambesi to 

 the east. Poor Sebituane, however, just after realizing what he 

 had so long ardently desired, fell sick of inflammation of the lungs, 

 which originated in and extended from an old wound got at Meli- 

 ta. I saw his danger, but, being a stranger, I feared to treat him 

 medically, lest, in the event of his death, I should be blamed by 

 his people. I mentioned this to one of his doctors, who said, 

 "Your fear is prudent and wise; this people would blame you." 

 He had been cured of this complaint, during the year before, by 

 the Barotse making a large number of free incisions in the chest. 

 The Makololo doctors, on the other hand, now scarcely cut the 

 skin. On the Sunday afternoon in which he died, when our usual 

 religious service was over, I visited him with my little boy Robert. 

 " Come near," said Sebituane, " and see if I am any longer a man. 

 I am done." He was thus sensible of the dangerous nature of 

 his disease, so I ventured to assent, and added a single sentence 

 regarding hope after death. "Why do you speak of death ?" said 



