to their baffled drone outside the curtain, you feel that you can waive your claim to such advantages.
I attended, at the Vale-ni-Bose or council-house of the province of Ba, a half-yearly meeting of the chiefs, who assemble to discuss the affairs of their respective districts; and, though my interpreter gave me only an outline of what was going on, it was impossible not to be struck by their readiness and intelligence, and not less by their gravity and gentlemanlike manners. Among other incidents, some men were brought up who had tried to leave their district without permission for another; and the utter humiliation of their look and voice, coupled with the dignity and severity in tone and bearing of the chief's reprimand, was very dramatic. To be sure, not very long ago he might have ordered them to the oven!
This same Roko or high chief, a shrewd-looking man with a refined and well-shaped head, related with much humor how, on a certain occasion, when a missionary was coming through, and the people were sending in offerings to him, his (the Roko's) contribution was a "long pig"-i. e., a human body. He and the missionary, he said, have met since and discussed—I mean, talked over—this practical joke. He invited me in the evening to a mekké—i. e., soirée musicale. The singing was a weird and curious performance, which has a strange fascination. There were about fifty performers, comprising, in fact, the entire party present. One man begins alone, and after he has sung a few bars, another takes it up in a sort of second to him; then a few more join, till suddenly the whole body of voices strike in, accompanying the song with strange, unintelligible gesticulations, turning half round (they are all seated on the ground), and pointing at each other with intent, meaning looks, and occasionally all clapping hands, in absolute unison—the song ending unexpectedly and quite abruptly with one clap. The time is beaten by a man with a couple of small sticks; it was very intricate, and the music evidently genuine and old, unlike anything I ever heard, and not to be rendered by our notation. Yanggona followed—a serious ceremonial brew—and I acquitted myself well, emptying the cup at a single draught, the Roko afterward presenting me with his own bowl, which was considered a great compliment.
Having asked Sailosi, the provincial scribe, a very nice fellow, whether I could see some national dancing, I was told that it would hardly be worth my while, as there were only girls here to dance. I, of course, protested against this "only" as not merely ungallant but inapplicable, so far as my tastes were concerned; but it turned out that the scribe knew best, for the young ladies' performance was not very interesting, and it was very long. A few of the smaller girls, with a lali or drum, formed a group, while
