GONJA TO LONDON. 
315 
I presented to him the letter of recommendation 
which the Sultan of Zanzibar had kindly given me at 
the outset of my journey, he kissed t the seal reveren¬ 
tially, and listened attentively while it was read aloud 
by his scribe. At the conclusion he turned to me and 
said, “ All my possessions are yours. Take what you 
will. What do you want?” I replied, laughing, 
“Nothing but your good will, and a little fresh milk.” 
But Kiongwe, who was more practical, said to Sem- 
boja, with a deprecatory cough and a grin, “ The 
white man is very fond of the flesh of sheep and oxen.” 
“ Good,” exclaimed Semboja; “ in the things of Europe 
I am a poor man, but of cattle, sheep, and milk I have 
plenty, and will not let my guest go lacking.” 
Accordingly, soon after we returned to camp, some 
soldiers of Semboja arrived with a fine fat bullock, 
two goats, and a sheep, and the women of his house¬ 
hold sent us gourds of both fresh and fermented milk, 
the latter being most esteemed by Africans. As a 
return for this hospitality I gave Semboja a 12-bore 
fowling-piece and 100 cartridges, some coloured pic¬ 
tures which he much desired, a suit of pyjamas, and 
quantities of gaudy handkerchiefs and clothes for his 
wives. 
Mutually pleased, we parted with many effusive 
compliments, and, refreshed by my short rest at 
Mazindi, I pursued my course to the borders of the 
Buvu. On reaching this turbulent stream we walked 
along its banks with little incident as far as a point 
about fifteen miles from the coast, called the “ Ma- 
samba,” or “plantations ” of Pangani. Here, with a 
few of my men, I took to a canoe and descended the 
river to its mouth. After rather a dangerous voyage 
in this rickety “ dug-out,” we fortunately reached the 
