2o6 MATABELE LAND. 



the country and the account of my wanderings are 

 read with some little interest, though I fear I can 

 only thank the friendliness of my critics for any- 

 thing interesting being found in them. As, how- 

 ever, I receive the flattering assurance that they 

 do afford a little amusement I will proceed without 

 further apology. A mail is leaving here very shortly, 

 as traders are now here on their way to Mungwato, 

 and will take letters. By the way, I am writing with 

 some of the desiccated ink I brought with me. I 

 had a grand brew of it yesterday, and it is an un- 

 doubted success. My table is formed by a packing- 

 case, and my chair is a box of gunpowder — but I am 

 not smoking. I am inhabiting a deserted house 

 made by one of the former gold-diggers here, and 

 appropriated by a Dutch family, who however are 

 from home. The paterfamilias has gone to hunt for 

 ivory in the Zambesi direction, and taken his 'vrouw,' 

 family, and furniture with him in his waggon." 



The narrative, here broken off, was again re- 

 sumed some days later : — 



" October 20th. 



" I again take up my pen to continue the letter 

 I began on the 1st of this month, and which I hoped 

 would have been a long way south of Bamangwato 

 by this time. The delay has been occasioned by 

 the drought, rendering the journey full of risk for 

 the oxen. I promised you a short rdsumd of my 

 doings and sufferings since I last wrote to you. By 

 sufferings, I don't of course mean bodily ones, but 

 what I have suffered from rascally Kaffirs, and which 

 are only entitled to be called annoyances. 



