in Portugal. While we were at Tette, a Captain of Infantry
was sent prisoner to Mosambique, for administering the
Muave, or ordeal, and for putting the suspected person to
death on that evidence alone.
At the end of the hot season everything is dry and dusty;
the atmosphere is loaded-with blue haze, and very sultry.
After the rains begin, the face of the country changes with
surprising rapidity for the better. Though we have not the
moist hothouse-like atmosphere of the west coast, fresh green
herbage quickly springs up over the hills and dales, so
lately parched and brown. The air becomes cleared of the
smoky-looking haze, and one sees to great distances with
ease; the landscape is bathed in a perfect flood of light, and
a delightful sense of freshness is given from everything in the
morning before the glare of noon overpowers the eye. On
asking one of the Bechuanas once, what he understood by the
word used for “ holiness ” (boits^pho) ? he answered, “ When
copious showers have descended during the night, and all
the earth and leaves and cattle are washed clean, and the
sun rising shows a drop of dew on every blade of grass, and
the air breathes fresh, that is holiness.” The young foliage
of several trees, more especially on the highlands, comes out
brown, pale red, or pink, like the hues of autumnal leaves
in England; and as the leaves increase in size they change
to a pleasant fresh light green; bright white, scarlet, pink,
and yellow flowers are everywhere; and some few of dark
crimson, like those .of the kigelia, give warmth of colouring to
Nature’s garden. Many trees, such as the scarlet erythrina,
attract the eye by the beauty of their blossoms. The white,
full bloom of the baobab, coming at times before the rains,
and the small and delicate flowers of other trees, grouped
into rich clusters, deck the forest. ; Myriads of wild bees are
busy from morning till night. .Some of the acacias possess a
peculiar attraction for one species of beetle; while the palm
allures others to congregate on its ample leaves. Insects of
all sorts are now in full force; brilliant butterflies flit from
flower to flower, and, with the charming little sun-birds,
which represent the humming-birds of America and the
West Indies, never seem to tire. Multitudes of ants are
hard at work hunting for food, or bearing it home in
triumph. The winter birds of passage, such as the yellow
wagtail and blue drongo shrikes, have all gone, and other
kinds have come; the brown kite with his piping like a
boatswain’s whistle, the spotted cuckoo with a call like
“ pula, and the roller and horn-bill with their loud high
notes, are occasionally distinctly heard, though generally
this harsher music is half drowned in the volume of sweet
sounds poured forth from many a throbbing throat, which
makes an African Christmas seem like an English May.
Some birds of the weaver kind have laid aside their winter
garments of a sober brown, and appear in a gay summer dress
of scarlet and jet black; others have passed from green to
bright yellow with patches like black velvet. The brisk little
cock whydah-bird with a pink bill, after assuming his summer
garb of black and white, has graceful plumes attached to his
new coat; his finery, as some believe, is to please at least
seven hen birds with which he is said to live. Birds of
song are not entirely confined to villages; but they have
m Africa so often been observed to cmgregate around villages,
as to produce the impression that song and beauty may have
been intended to please the ear and eye of man, for it is
only when we approach the haunts of men that we know
that the time of the singing of birds is come. We once
thought that the little creatures were attracted to man only
F