200 yards I stood face to face with his majesty. He was a man of about five-and-thirty, dressed in European style, with an English hat upon his head, decorated with a fine white ostrich feather. He had a broad, open countenance, large eyes, and a good-humoured expression that betrayed nothing of the tyrant that he really was. Advancing to meet me with a light and easy tread, he smiled pleasantly as he held out his hand, and after greeting Blockley in a similar fashion, he bestowed a nod of recognition on our servant April. He was accompanied by some of the principal court-officials, only one of whom wore trousers; two others had woollen garments fastened across their backs, whilst the rest were only to be distinguished from the general mob by the number of bracelets on their arms. The most noticeable part of the procession was the royal band; on either side of the king were myrimba-players bringing out the most excruciating sounds with a pair of short drumsticks from a keyboard of calabashes suspended from their shoulders by a strap; these were preceded by men with huge tubular drums, upon which they played with their fingers, accompanying the strains with their voices. Followed by this motley throng, we were conducted to a tall mimosa, where we were met by a man in European costume, whom Sepopo introduced to me as Jan Mahura, a Bechuana, who had resided three years with him as interpreter.
Blockley was able to dispense with the services of this corpulent, sly-looking individual, but to me he proceeded formally to introduce his Majesty as “Sepopo, Morena of the Zambesi.” The king then
