2l8 
Seven Years in Central Africa. [May, 
to start. I mentioned the matter in prayer to God — that if there 
was a saddle in the country I might have it. Again I turned to 
saddle-making, and had just cut up an old sack, with which 
to make two pads for the back of the ox, finding it was out 
of the question to think of anything more substantial, when a 
little boy, about ten years of age, made his appearance at the 
gateway of the village with a large saddle on his head. A 
mulatto, who had just come from an expedition some 300 miles 
to the south of Bihe, had purchased a horse and saddle from 
a Dutchman there. The horse, however, died, and he brought 
home the saddle and sent it over to me that morning, wishing to 
exchange it for a piece of caUco cloth. I have no hesitation 
in saying that I believe it was the only saddle in Bihe. 
Again, at the Garenganze I had sadly run out of boots. Indeed, 
I had been compelled, in going down to the villages, to tie on 
my feet thick pads, made out of old newspapers, so as to keep 
them off the hot ground. Not that good leather cannot be 
prepared by a simple process of tanning or smoking, but my 
time had been so much occupied with the people, and attacks of 
fever during my first year in the Garenganze had been so 
constant, that I had no leisure to give attention to boot-making. 
Msidi, I thought, might possibly have some boots, and I went 
down with the intention of asking him for a pair one morning, 
but changed my mind on the way, and did not mention the 
matter to anyone. Next morning, however, a young man came 
along with a pair of boots to sell, the first time boots were ever 
brought to me in this country. They were almost new, of fine 
leather, and on trying them on they fitted me perfectly — the best- 
fitting boots I have ever had. "How much for them?" "Four 
yards." I had just four yards of cloth on hand, which came 
in one of the loads from Kandundu. I could not have believed 
five minutes before that such a pair of boots was in the interior, 
for even at Benguella I could not get boots to fit me. It seems 
that they were brought by a native trader, some time ago, to 
Molenga, the chief whose village I passed on my way here. One 
of Msidi's sons had gone to visit him, when Molenga gave him 
the boots as a present. He wore them but a few days, and then 
sent them for sale to me this morning. So I thank God for the 
boots, and may He give me health to wear them. 
