104 ma-mochisane's difficulty. 



the gratitude of the strangers. Indeed, in all wild countries, 

 the simple, childlike, the grand, Godlike grace of hospitality 

 abounds. The poor Indian will tell you how his ancestors 

 kept a home in every village for the stranger ; how the visitor, 

 whoever he was, was conducted thither in joy and pride; how 

 the best skins were spread and the choicest food provided with- 

 out price or expected thanks — the service of duty only. In 

 Africa the people never think of putting a price on their atten- 

 tions to the stranger until civilization teaches them cupidity. 

 It is the letter of God's great law of kindness written on their 

 wild hearts which we read in their ready reception of the 

 stranger. It is the writing out of God's law by the decalogue 

 of the devil which we read in the selfishness and suspicion 

 which makes a large part of civilization a desert drearier, for 

 the wandering and the wanting, than the sands of Sahara. 

 These ladylike matrons, with their short-cut hair and coats of 

 shining butter, only partly hidden by the soft mantle of ox 

 hide thrown over the bare shoulders, and the ox-hide kilt from 

 waist to knees, their arms and ankles adorned with massive 

 rings of brass and iron, and strings of beads of various hues 

 twined about their necks, were only glad to wear the grace of 

 free attentions with that grace of person in which they pride 

 themselves. 



You will remember that Ma-mochisane had been left the 

 chieftainship of the Makololo. But Ma-mochisane was a woman. 

 The Makololo women all are passionately fond of children. 

 The lady chieftain tried to follow the example of the chiefs, and 

 selected a number of men whom she called her wives. But it 

 wouldn't work. The women became aroused against her; their 

 tongues could not be controlled ; their bitter speeches and cruel 

 insinuations were more than Ma-mochisane could endure. She 

 fretted, she cried, she got mad, she quit and vowed she would 

 not be chief. She would " have a husband and children and a 

 home like other women." "Sekeletu must be chief." So 

 Sekeletu stood in the shoes of his father. This young man in- 

 herited his father's dignity and authority, some of his wisdom 

 and kindness, and all of his wives. Of these latter he distributed 

 all but two among the under chiefs, and selected some new ones 

 for himself. He was quite anxious to give the missionary any- 



