21-i QUENDENDE. Chap. XVIL 



potatoes. Several trees were planted in the middle of the 

 yard, beneath the deep shade of which stood the huts of 

 Mozinkwa's family. His children, very black but comely, 

 were the finest negro family I ever saw. We were much 

 pleased with the liberality of this man and his wife. She 

 asked me to bring her a cloth from the white man's country, 

 but when we returned she was in her grave, and he, as is the 

 custom, had abandoned trees, garden, and huts to ruin. They 

 cannot live on a spot where a favourite wife has died, either 

 because they are unable to bear the remembrance of past 

 happiness, or because they are afraid to remain in a spot 

 which death has once visited. This feeling renders any 

 permanent village in the country impossible. 



Friday, 10th. — On leaving Mozinkwa's hospitable mansion 

 we crossed in canoes another stream, about forty yards wide, 

 called the Mona-Kalueje, or brother of Kalueje, as it flows 

 into that river. As we were crossing it we were joined by a 

 messenger from Katema, called Shakatwala, who held the 

 post of steward or factotum to that chief. Every chief has 

 one attached to his person, and, though generally poor, they 

 are invariably men of great shrewdness and ability, and pos- 

 sess considerable authority in the chiefs household. Shakat- 

 wala informed ns that Katema had not received precise 

 information about us, but that, if we were peaceably disposed, 

 we were to come to his town. We proceeded forthwith, but 

 were turned aside, by the strategy of our friend Intemese, to 

 the village of Quendende, the father-in-law of Katema, who 

 was so polite and intelligent that Ave did not regret being- 

 obliged to spend Sunday with him. 



Quendende's head was a good specimen of the greater crop 

 of wool with which the negroes of Londa are furnished. The 

 front was parted in the middle, and plaited into two thick 

 rolls, which fell down behind the ears to the shouldeis; the 

 rest was collected into a large knot, which lay on the nape of 

 the neck. We had much conversation together ; he had just 

 come from attending the funeral of one of his people, and I 

 found that the drum- beating on these occasions originates in 

 (47) the idea that the Barimo, or spirits, can be drummed to sleep. 

 There is a drum in every village, and we often hear it going 

 froni sunset to sunrise. They seem to look upon the departed 



