HOW WHITE MEN TRADE. 359 



forty miles to our south, were now shut from our view 

 by others nearer at hand, and the grey ranges of Cahenda 

 and Kiwe, which, while we were in Ambaca, stood clearly 

 defined eight or ten miles off to the north, were now close 

 upon our right. As we looked back towards the open 

 pastoral country of Ambaca, the broad green gently un- 

 dulating plains seemed in a hollow surrounded on all 

 sides by rugged mountains, and as we went westward we 

 were entering .upon quite a wild-looking mountainous 

 district called Golungo Alto. 



We met numbers of Mambari on their way back to 

 Bihe. Some of them had belonged to the parties which 

 had penetrated as far as Linyanti, and foolishly showed 

 their displeasure at the prospect of the Makololo preferring 

 to go to the coast markets themselves, to intrusting them 

 with their ivory. The Mambari repeated the tale of the 

 mode in which the white men are said to trade. " The 

 ivory is left on the shore in the evening, and next morning 

 the seller finds a quanta of goods placed there in its 

 stead by the white men who live in the sea." " Now," 

 added they to my men, " how can you Makololo trade 

 ■with these ' Mermen ' ? Can you enter into the sea, and 

 tell them to come ashore ? " It was remarkable to hear 

 tins idea repeated so near the sea as we now were. My 

 men replied that they only wanted to see for themselves ; 

 and as they were now getting some li^ht on the nature of 

 the trade carried on by the Mambari, they were highly 

 amused on perceiving the reasons why the Mambari would 

 rather have met them on the Zambesi, than so near the 

 sea-coast. 



There is something so exhilarating to one of Highland 

 blood in being near or on high mountains, that I forgot 

 my fever as we wended our way among the lofty tree- 

 covered masses of mica schist, which form the highlands 

 around the romantic residence of the Chefe of Golungo 

 Alto ; (Lat. 9 8' 30* S., long. 15 2' E.) The whole 

 district is extremely beautiful. The hills are all bedecked 

 with trees of various hues of foliage, and among them 

 towers the graceful palm, which yields the oil of commerce 

 for making our soaps, and the intoxicating toddy. Some 

 clusters of hills look like the waves of the sea driven into 

 a narrow open bay, and have assumed the same form 

 as if, when all were chopping up perpendicularly, they had 

 suddenly been congealed. The cottages of the natives, 



