We Have Been Perpetually
Reminded Of Home And Family By The Wailings Which Were Once Familiar
To Parental Ears And Heart, And Felt Thankful That To The Sorrows Of
Childhood Our Children Would Never Have Superadded The Heartrending
Woes Of The Slave-Trade.
Taking Chinsamba's advice to avoid the Mazitu in their marauding, we
started on the 5th September away to the N.E., and passed mile after
mile of native cornfields, with an occasional cotton-patch.
After a long march, we passed over a waterless plain about N.N.W. of
the hills of Tsenga to a village on the Lake, and thence up its
shores to Chitanda. The banks of the Lake were now crowded with
fugitives, who had collected there for the poor protection which the
reeds afforded. For miles along the water's edge was one continuous
village of temporary huts. The people had brought a little corn with
them; but they said, "What shall we eat when that is done? When we
plant corn, the wild beasts (Zinyama, as they call the Mazitu) come
and take it. When we plant cassava, they do the same. How are we to
live?" A poor blind woman, thinking we were Mazitu, rushed off in
front of us with outspread arms, lifting the feet high, in the manner
peculiar to those who have lost their sight, and jumped into the
reeds of a stream for safety.
In our way along the shores we crossed several running rivulets of
clear cold water, which, from having reeds at their confluences, had
not been noticed in our previous exploration in the boat.
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