334 VIIXAGE CURIOSITY. 



leisurely puff away in dreamy indifference. In some 

 villages weeds are not allowed to grow ; cotton, tobacco, 

 and different plants used as relishes, are planted round 

 the huts; fowls are kept in cages, and the gardens present 

 the pleasant spectacle of different kinds of grain and pulse 

 at various periods of their growth. I sometimes admired 

 the one class, and at times wished I could have taken the 

 world easy for a time, like the other. Kvery village 

 swarms with children, who turn out to see the white man 

 pass, and run along with strange cries and antics ; some 

 run up trees to get a good view ; all are agile climbers 

 throughout L,onda- At friendly villages they have scam- 

 pered alongside our party for miles at a time. We usually 

 made a little hedge around our sheds ; crowds of women 

 came to the entrance of it, with children on their backs, 

 and long pipes in their mouths, gazing at us for hours. 

 The men, rather than disturb them, crawled through a 

 hole in the hedge, and it was common to hear a man in 

 running off say to them. " I am going to tell my mama to 

 come and see the white man's oxen." 



In continuing our W.N.W. course, we met many parties 

 of native traders, each carrying some pieces of cloth and 

 salt, with a few beans to barter for bees'-wax. They are 

 all armed with Portuguese guns, and have cartridges 

 with iron balls. When we meet, we usually stand a few 

 minutes. They present a little salt, and we give a bit of 

 ox-hide, or some other trifle, and then part with mutual 

 good wishes. The hide of the oxen we slaughtered had 

 been a valuable addition to our resources, for we found it 

 in so great repute for girdles all through Londa, that we 

 cut up every skin into strips about two inches broad, and 

 sold them for meal and manioc as we went along. As we 

 came nearer Angola we found them of less value, as the 

 people there possess cattle themselves. 



The village on the Kweelo, at which we spent Sunday, 

 was that of a civil, lively old man, called Sakandala, who 

 offered no objections to our progress. We found we 

 should soon enter on the territory of the Bashinje (Chinge 

 of the Portuguese), who are mixed with another tribe, 

 named Bangala, which have been at war with the Babin- 

 dele or Portuguese. Rains and fever, as usual, helped to 

 impede our progress until we were put on the path, 

 which leads from Cassange and Bine to Matiamvo, by a 

 headman named Kamboela. This was a well-beaten foot- 



