regard thou hast for me; for at night, when I come from the mashámo to walk about in Lunda, I am obliged to hold up my mucongo (state dress), and so I make myself quite wet, because the whole road is covered with grass, in consequence of thy not having taken care to have it cleared. And what is the reason why thou keepest these Mozungos here against their will, and doest to them what I never did? It is on this account that I am troubled with the repeated complaints of their Geral' (General,' the name given to the Portuguese Governor), 'who died here, because of thy ill-treatment of the Mozungos.'

With respect to births and deaths among these people, Major Gamitto appears to have found nothing worthy of notice, except the custom of shaving the head of the defunct at the expiration of the eight days during which the funeral ceremonies continue.

The marriages of the common people are very simple in form. The bridegroom gives to his intended father-in-law a pande, or cowrie-shell, whereby he signifies his desire to marry his daughter, and then goes away without proffering a single word. Thereupon the father of the girl calls together his relatives, and fixes the weddingday, which he intimates to the bridegroom. The latter then comes, and places a string of beads round the bride's neck, and with no farther ceremony she becomes his wife. A banquet follows, consisting of buali (paste made of the meal of manioc or maize), with flesh and dried fish, both boiled and roast, and pombe (beer made from fermented grain). The newlymarried couple then retire to the husband's home, if he has one; if not, they live with the wife's father.

The people are polygamists, and

both sexes are of very dissolute habits.

The Quilólos, or nobles, possess seraglios nearly as large as that of the Cazembe himself, the inmates of which consist for the most part of females taken by force, or selected on their estates, without any ceremony beyond that of their being given up by their parents or relatives.

The Muata Cazembe himself has four principal wives, who have rank and title as such, besides as many as six hundred concubines, who are divided among the four wives as their handmaids. The first wife is styled Muári; the second, Inteména; the third, Casalenca, and the fourth, Fuama. They are all four confined within the mossumba or palace, and never go out except in state. All the others are dressed like common females or slaves, and like these are employed in all kinds of labour, such as tilling the ground, drawing water, collecting wood, &c. But if one of these women, whom it requires an experienced eye to distinguish, should happen to meet a man face to face, he is immediately condemned to have all his extremities cut off. Consequently, as soon as any man sees one of these women at a distance, he turns back or takes another road, running away with all his might. And should a party of men be casually standing in the road talking together, and one of these women suddenly makes her appearance, as soon as they see or recognise her they scamper off in all directions, let their rank or condition be what it may; because it is absolutely forbidden to every one to look, even from afar off, at any woman belonging to the Muata, however insignificant she may be.

When the Cazembe sees any woman who pleases him, or hears of any one whom he in consequence feels inclined to take, he

sends to fetch her, and as soon as she is received into the ganda or seraglio she is made to confess with what men she has had intercourse. Her husband, if she has one, is in the mean while taken and put to death, and all his property is confiscated. Then, as fast as the woman names any other men whom she may have known, they all have their heads cut off. This confession lasts several days, during which time no one is allowed to communicate with her except the cata-dofo, or chief female executioner of the palace, who receives her confession and communicates it to the Cazembe alone. As long as the woman remembers any victims whom she may denounce, or as long as it is presumed that there are any whom she ought to name, so long she remains in this state of seclusion; and it is only when the Mambo is convinced that there are no more in existence, that she leaves her prison, and goes and joins his other concubines. If she is unmarried, immediately on her reception into the ganda, the practice is still the same, except as regards the husband; and as the Cazembian women in general, whatever may be their rank in life, and whether married or single, are not noted for propriety of conduct, in no case does it happen that several men, few or many, are not put to death.

These occasions are always availed of for the exercise of acts of vengeance; this being so easy of execution, inasmuch as no evidence is required beyond the confession or declaration of the secluded women, who are not in the habit of concealing anything in this respect; besides which, when it is found convenient, things are invented that they never said.

It is essential that one of the chief wives of the Muata Cazembe should be a Campocólo, and to

her eldest son belongs the right of succession: in default of such a son, the nearest relative of the Muata succeeds, provided he be of the pure race of the Campocólos. The Muata's first wife is of that race and his cousin, and by her he had a son, whom he secretly put to death, through fear that he would conspire against him. Among the people generally, the eldest son is his father's heir.

When the Cazembe dies, all the Quilólos or nobles assemble, and the corpse of the deceased monarch, in his state dress, is placed on the throne in the principal court-yard of the Mossumba or palace, in the greatest state and with the utmost pomp, surrounded by the Quilólos and the people, in the same form as if he were alive and holding his court. As soon as everything is in order, the new Mambo issues from the ganda, and halting at a convenient distance in front of the corpse, he kneels down and does homage to it by covering his arms with earth. Then rising, he advances to the feet of the deceased, where he again kneels, and taking hold of its right hand with his own right hand, he keeps the two closely together, palm to palm, and with his left hand he removes from the arm of the defunct, on to his own arm, a ring about half an inch thick, lined with snake's skin, doing this so that it does not remain a single moment off the arm of either the deceased mcnarch or his successor. This ring

is the insignia of the kingly power, and is inseparable from the arm of the reigning sovereign. As soon as this ceremony is completed, and the new Cazembe has placed the ring on his own arm above the elbow, he rises and assumes the character of Mambo, and as such he is saluted and acclaimed with the words, Muana, averie! 'O Lord, hail which words are re

iterated by the Quilólos. And when all this is ended, it is he who gives the orders and directs the interment of his predecessor in the following manner:

The corpse of the deceased monarch is seated and well fastened on a chair in the shape of the throne, or on the throne itself, which is placed on a bier or litter called cholólo, and this is then conveyed, accompanied by loud music and a large concourse of people, to the mashámos, or sepulchres of the kings, where the one destined for him has already been prepared. This is a spacious opening, made with a gradual descent and ending in a square chamber, which is lined throughout with the finest cloths, and in the centre of this the corpse is placed, seated in the chair in which it has been carried, and with all its clothes and ornaments. The entrance to the chamber is then closed, not by filling it in, but by walling it up. Through the earth above this chamber, and in the centre of it, is made a perpendicular orifice, an inch in diameter, through which are introduced the food and drink supplied to the dead monarch; a border of clay, several inches in diameter, being made round the upper end of the orifice, so as to prevent anything poured in from being spilt. Above the grave is built a large house, which is regarded as the mashámo or tomb, and within this are placed, on the ground, the cloths and other articles that are brought as offerings. The new Cazembe nominates a muine-mashámo or guardian, who is generally one of the servants of the deceased monarch, and whose office is inherited by his descendants.

Whenever war is about to be made, one of the deceased Muatas is always invoked, it being in most

cases Lequéza; and all the skulls of enemies brought from the wars are offered in his mashámo, and the prisoners taken are sacrificed to him. When they have no prisoners, they sacrifice their own people to the musimos or spirits of the deceased Muatas, and also for the purposes of their enchantments or sorceries, which are of a peculiar and horrible character.

The chief ceremonies are celebrated by the Cazembe, who is the supreme religious authority; they consist of dances and music, and when they are ended, the Muata shuts himself up within the mashámo, where he pours food and pombe down into the grave; and on his retiring he leaves a few pieces of cloth as an offering to the muzimos.

As Canyembo the First was drowned in the Lua-láo, that river is revered as his sepulchre, and the reigning Cazembe goes on a yearly pilgrimage to it, attended by his whole court and a vast concourse of people, and there makes offerings to that king's mosimo, in like manner at at the mashámos of the other sovereigns. This river, which is always so large as to require to be crossed in boats, is apparently the same in its upper course as the Lua-lába of our adventurous countryman Dr. Livingstone.

Such are some of the customs of the strange people among whom Dr. Livingstone has been staying, and about whom he will doubtless be able to tell us much more than is to be gleaned from the pages of Major Gamitto's book, valuable and interesting as the information is that it contains. We are only sorry to learn that, not satisfied with what he has already done, he purposes continuing his explorations for another year or two.

ONLY a bunch of faded violets, devoid of perfume and almost crumbling with the touch: yet among all the precious relics of a period when love cast its glistening halo over the most trivial things of life, these poor withered flowers were most endeared to the heart of Lucy Seymour, and as she took them from the secret drawer of the writ ing-desk in which they had since lain undisturbed, the events of years long departed returned to her recollection as vividly as though they had taken place but yesterday instead of nearly a generation since.

In search of some feminine nicknack, her hand had unconsciously closed upon the scentless blossoms, and their touch awakened a thousand fond remembrances. As her thoughts bounded back to that faroff time when these withered violets had possessed their natural fragrance, she sank into a chair, let the embroidery upon which she was engaged fall from her fingers, and resigned herself to the influence reminiscences of the past always occasioned.

Lucy Seymour had just passed the spring-tide of womanhood, , when Robert Morton came to reside in the West-country village in which her life had hitherto been spent. Her father was the leading tradesman of the place, and by his perseverance in business and thrifty habits had amassed a sum that made his only child's hand a muchcoveted prize by the young farmers and shopkeepers desirous of adding to their possessions a greatly augmented capital as well as a good

wife. Sweethearts in plenty she might have summoned to her side, but to the solicitations of all save one Lucy turned a deaf ear. This favoured being was Robert Morton, who, though possessing no special gifts of intellect or stability of character, contrived to win Lucy's heart ere she had become aware of the danger she was incurring. To most people the young man appeared a very ordinary person, devoted to indolent habits that, perhaps, were the result of his training rather than aught else. He was the son of a half-pay captain; and his widowed mother, who was of good family, indulged ideas not altogether in keeping with her re

sources.

She imagined that with the good dividend-paying stocks and shares in which her fortune was embarked, and which at some future day must come to her son, he might, if he sought a rich wife, manage to pass his days pretty comfortably without seeking any vulgar employment. These foolish ideas, persistently inculcated, resulted in Robert Morton's attaining the age of eight-and-twenty without having the slightest knowledge of obtaining his own livelihood should any of the risky London companies of which his mother thought so highly meet with disaster, and drift towards those dreary shores bearing the title of Basinghall-street.

In appearance Robert Morton was decidedly prepossessing, and his manner was winning; but he had been spoilt by his mother's training. He had never been accustomed to mental or physical

exertion, and with the exception of spending two or three days every quarter in computing the fluctuations from month to month of his mother's shares, and comparing their value with antecedent periods, his days were spent in absolute idleness.

His income was not sufficient to enable him to associate with those of his own rank in the county, and so he wandered listlessly about the neighbourhood of the village, glad of any relaxation that offered itself to his mind. It was at this period of his career he fell in love with Lucy Seymour, and began to feel an increased interest in life with the knowledge that his affection was returned.

When Mrs. Morton first heard of her son's choice she experienced considerable annoyance. When, however, she learnt that Lucy would by and by become possessed of some 7000l., not in fluctuating foreign stocks and joint-stock companies, but in consols, she thought, after all, it were better perhaps that things should take their course. It was certainly vexing that her son had not looked in a higher rank of life for a bride; but one could overlook much in the owner of 7000l. consols. Then the scheming woman's active mind began to reflect into what channel these consols should be transferred when the money should descend to her son's future wife. She knew the influence she possessed over Robert Morton, and fretted herself into illhumour when she considered that this 7000l. was only realising three per cent, whereas, were it intrusted to her, she would at once place it in one of her pet speculations, and get some twelve or fifteen for it.

Mrs. Morton, who speedily became very friendly with Lucy's father, even ventured out of the generosity of her heart to broach the matter to him; but the worthy

tradesman was perfectly satisfied with his three per cent, and such security; so the interview terminated, Robert's mother wondering on her way homewards how people could be so bigoted as to suppose there was nothing like consols, when so many splendid schemes were before the public, requiring only capital to realise for shareholders a vast and certain source of income.

Despite Mrs. Morton's continual promptings relative to a better-paying investment for the money that was ultimately to come into Lucy's possession, and her sneers at his apathy in the matter, Robert in his interviews with his betrothed never allowed the conversation to revert to the monetary topic. He knew better than his mother the instability of the companies with which she had connected herself; but so great was her mania upon this point, that to attempt to thwart her was useless. He had on several occasions expostulated, and had produced evidence that to any other person would have been the clearest proof, that it was impossible to pay dividends out of the capital fund without materially trenching upon the foundation of the edifice on which his mother had placed her hopes-and her money.

Robert knew the volcano over which his mother was content to deposit her resources, and was aware of his own helplessness should he ever be compelled to make his way in the world unassisted. If Lucy had been without expectations, he would for the sake of both have shunned her; as it was he sought her society on every opportunity. This resulted in his becoming, as he thought, deeply enmeshed in love with the fair creature whose wavy golden-hued locks seemed to reflect the sun's brightness, whose features were so delicately moulded that they might