78 HIS CHARACTER. 



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 com- 

 pany 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 measure with his 

 affability and liberality, they felt their hearts warm 

 towards him, and gave him all the information in their 

 power ; and as he never allowed a party of strangers to 

 go away without giving every one of them, servants and 

 all, a present, his praises were sounded far and wide. 

 " He has a heart ! he is wise ! " 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 mignt choose a 

 part in which to locate ourselves. 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 realising 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 Melita. 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 one of a relay of fresh doctors ; 

 "Sebituane will never die." If I had persisted, the 



