RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION — A NATIVE CONJURER, AND HIS DEXTERITY — CURING A SICK MAN — THE MAGIC DICE — AMULETS — SPARTAN PRACTICES — THE GIRL’S ORDEAL — A SINGULAR PRIVILEGE — FOOD OF THE BECHUANAS — THE MILK-BAG — MUSIC AND DANCING — THE REED PIPE, OR LICHAKA — THE BECHUANAN DANCE — REMARKABLE CAP WORN BY THE PERFORMERS — THE SUBSTITUTE FOR A HANDKERCHIEF — ARCHITECTURE OF THE BECHUANAS, AND ITS ELABORATE CHARACTER — CONSTRUCTION OF THE HOUSES — CONCENTRIC MODE OF BUILDING — MR. BAINES’S VISIT TO A BECHUANA CHIEF — BURIAL OF THE DEAD, AND ATTENDANT CEREMONIES.

Of religion the Bechuanas know nothing, though they have plenty of superstition, and are as utter slaves to their witch doctors as can well be conceived. The life of one of these personages is full of danger. He practises his arts with the full knowledge that if he should fail, death is nearly certain to be the result. Indeed, it is very seldom that a witch doctor, especially if he should happen to be also a rain-maker, dies a natural death, he generally falling a victim to the clubs of his quondam followers.

These men evidently practise the art of conjuring, as we understand the word, and they can perform their tricks with great dexterity. One of these men exhibited several of his performances to Mr. Baines, and displayed no small ingenuity in the magic art. His first trick was to empty, or to appear to empty, a skin bag and an old hat, and then to shake the bag over the hat, when a piece of meat or hide fell from the former into the latter. Another performance was to tie up a bead necklace in a wisp of grass, and hand it to one of the white spectators to burn. He then passed the bag to the most incredulous of the spectators, allowed him to feel it and prove that it was empty, while the hat was being examined by Mr. Baines and a friend. Calling out to the holder of the bag, he pretended to throw something through the air, and, when the bag was duly shaken, out fell the beads into the hat.

This was really a clever trick, and, though any of my readers who have some practical acquaintance with the art of legerdemain can see how it was done, it is not a little surprising to see such dexterity possessed by a savage. The success of this trick was the more remarkable because the holder of the bag had rather unfairly tried to balk the performer. On a subsequent occasion, however, the conjurer attempted the same trick, varying it by requesting that the beads should be broken instead of burned. The holder of the beads took the precaution of marking them with ink before breaking them, and in consequence all the drumming of the conjurer could not reproduce them until after dark, when another string of beads, precisely similar in appearance, was found under the wagon. Being pressed on the subject, the conjurer admitted that they were not the same beads, but said that they had been sent supernaturally to replace those which had been broken.

The same operator was tolerably clever at tricks with cord, but had to confess that a nautical education conferred advantages in that respect to which his supernatural powers were obliged to yield. He once invited Mr. Baines to see him exhibit his skill in the evening. “A circle of girls and women now surrounded the wizard, and commenced a pleasing but monotonous chant, clapping their hands in unison, while he, seated alternately on a carved stool and on a slender piece of reed covered with a skin to prevent its hurting him, kept time for the hand-clapping, and seemed trying to work himself up to the required state of inspiration, till his whole flesh quivered like that of a person in the ague.

“A few preparatory anointings of the joints of all his limbs, his breast and forehead, as well as those of his choristers, followed; shrill whistlings were interchanged with spasmodic gestures, and now I found that the exhibition of the evening was a bonâ fide medical operation on the person of a man who lay covered with skins outside of the circle. The posterior portion of the thigh was chosen for scarification, but, as the fire gave no light in that direction, and the doctor and the relatives seemed not to like my touching the patient, I did not ascertain how deep the incisions were made. Most probably, from the scars I have seen of former operations of the kind, they were merely deep enough to draw blood.

“The singing and hand-clapping now grew more vehement, the doctor threw himself upon the patient, perhaps sucked the wound, at all events pretended to inhale the disease. Strong convulsions seized him, and, as he was a man of powerful frame, it required no little strength to hold him. At length, with upturned eyes and face expressive of suffocation, he seized his knife, and, thrusting it into his mouth, took out a large piece apparently of hide or flesh, which his admiring audience supposed him to have previously drawn from the body of the patient, thus removing the cause of the disease.”

Sometimes the Bechuana doctor uses a sort of dice, if such a term may be used when speaking of objects totally unlike the dice which are used in this country. In form they are pyramidal, and are cut from the cloven hoof of a small antelope. These articles do not look very valuable, but they are held in the highest estimation, inasmuch as very few know how to prepare them, and they are handed down from father to son through successive generations. The older they are, the more powerful are they supposed to be, and a man who is fortunate enough to possess them can scarcely be induced to part with them. Those which are depicted in the illustration are taken from specimens that were, after a vast amount of bargaining, purchased by Dr. Lichtenstein, at the price of an ox for each die.

These magic dice are used when the proprietor wishes to know the result of some undertaking. He smooths a piece of ground with his hand, holds the die between his fingers, moves his hands up and down several times, and then allows them to fall. He then scans them carefully, and judges from their position what they foretell. The reader may remember the instance where a Kaffir prophet used the magic necklace for the same purpose, and in a similar manner. The characters or figures described on the surface have evidently some meaning, but what their signification was the former possessor either did not know, or did not choose to communicate.

The children, when they first begin to trouble themselves and their parents by the process of teething, are often furnished with a kind of amulet. It is made of a large African beetle, called scientifically Brachycerus apterus. A number of them are killed, dried, and then strung on leathern thongs, so as to be worn round the neck. These objects have been mistaken for whistles. The Bechuanas have great faith in their powers when used for teething, and think that they are efficacious in preventing various infantine disorders.

Like the Kaffirs, the Bechuanas make use of certain religious ceremonies before they go to war. One of these rites consists in laying a charm on the cattle, so that they shall not be seized by the enemy. The oxen are brought singly to the priest, if we may so call him, who is furnished with a pot of black paint, and a jackal’s tail by way of a brush. With this primitive brush he makes a certain mark upon the hind leg of the animal, while at the same time an assistant, who kneels behind him, repeats the mark in miniature upon his back or arms. To this ceremony they attribute great value; and, as war is almost invariably made for the sake of cattle, the Bechuanas may well be excused for employing any rite which they fancy will protect such valued possessions.

Among one branch of the Bechuana tribe, a very remarkable ceremony is observed when the boys seek to be admitted into the rank of men. The details are kept very secret, but a few of the particulars have been discovered. Dr. Livingstone, for example, happened once to witness the second stage of the ceremonies, which last for a considerable time.

A number of boys, about fourteen years of age, without a vestige of clothing, stood in a row, and opposite those was an equal number of men, each having in his hand a long switch cut from a bush belonging to the genus Grewia, and called in the native language moretloa. The twigs of this bush are very strong, tough, and supple. Both the men and boys were engaged in an odd kind of dance, called “koha,” which the men evidently enjoyed, and the boys had to look as if they enjoyed it too. Each boy was furnished with a pair of the ordinary hide sandals, which he wore on his hands instead of his feet. At stated intervals, the men put certain questions to the boys, respecting their future life when admitted into the society of men. For example:—

“Will you herd the cattle well?” asks the man.

“I will,” answers the boy, at the same time lifting his sandalled hands over his head. The man then leaps forward, and with his full force strikes at the boy’s head. The blow is received on the uplifted sandals, but the elasticity of the long switch causes it to curl over the boy’s head with such force that a deep gash is made in his back, some twelve or eighteen inches in length, from which the blood spirts as if it were made with a knife. Ever afterward, the lesson that he is to guard the cattle is supposed to be indelibly impressed on the boy’s mind.

Then comes another question, “Will you guard the chief well?”

“I will,” replies the boy, and another stroke impresses that lesson on the boy’s mind. And thus they proceed, until the whole series of questions has been asked and properly answered. The worst part of the proceeding is, that the boys are obliged, under penalty of rejection, to continue their dance, to look pleased and happy, and not to wince at the terrible strokes which cover their bodies with blood, and seam their backs with scars that last throughout their lifetime. Painful as this ordeal must be, the reader must not think that it is nearly so formidable to the Bechuanas as it would be to Europeans. In the first place, the nervous system of an European is far more sensitive than that of South African natives, and injuries which would lay him prostrate have but little effect upon them. Moreover, their skin, from constant exposure to the elements, is singularly insensible, so that the stripes do not inflict a tenth part of the pain that they would if suffered by an European.

Only the older men are allowed to take part in this mode of instruction of the boys, and if any man should attempt it who is not qualified, he is unpleasantly reminded of his presumption by receiving on his own back the stripes which he intended to inflict on the boys, the old men being in such a case simultaneously judges and executioners. No elevation of rank will allow a man to thus transgress with impunity; and on one occasion, Sekomi himself, the chief of the tribe, received a severe blow on the leg from one of his own people. This kind of ordeal, called the Sechu, is only practised among three tribes, one of which is the Bamangwato, of which Sekomi was the chief. The reader will probably see by the description that the ceremony is rather of a civil than a religious character. It is illustrated on the previous page. The other stage of the rite, which is called by the general name of Boguera, is also of a secular character.

It takes place every six or seven years, so that a large number of boys are collected. These are divided into bands, each of which is under the command of one of the sons of the chief, and each member is supposed to be a companion of his leader for life. They are taken into the woods by the old men, where they reside for some time, and where, to judge from their scarred and seamed backs, their residence does not appear to be of the most agreeable description. When they have passed through the different stages of the boguera, each band becomes a regiment or “mopato,” and goes by its own name.

According to Dr. Livingstone, “they recognize a sort of equality and partial communion afterward, and address each other by the name of Molekane, or comrade. In cases of offence against their rules, as eating alone when any of their comrades are within call, or in cases of dereliction of duty, they may strike one another, or any member of a younger mopato, but never one of an older band; and, when three or four companies have been made, the oldest no longer takes the field in time of war, but remains as a guard over the women and children. When a fugitive comes to a tribe, he is directed to the mopato analogous to that to which in his own tribe he belongs, and does duty as a member.”

The girls have to pass an ordeal of a somewhat similar character before they are admitted among the women, and can hope to attain the summit of an African girl’s hopes, namely, to be married. If possible, the details of the ceremony are kept even more strictly secret than is the case with the boys, but a part of it necessarily takes place in public, and is therefore well known. It is finely illustrated in the engraving No. 2, on previous page.

The girls are commanded by an old and experienced woman, always a stern and determined personage, who carries them off into the woods, and there instructs them in all the many arts which they will have to practise when married. Clad in a strange costume, composed of ropes made of melon-seeds and bits of quill, the ropes being passed over both shoulders and across their bodies in a figure-of-eight position, they are drilled into walking with large pots of water on their heads. Wells are purposely chosen which are at a considerable distance, in order to inure the girls to fatigue, and the monitress always chooses the most inclement days for sending them to the greatest distance. They have to carry heavy loads of wood, to handle agricultural tools, to build houses, and, in fact, to practise before marriage those tasks which are sure to fall to their lot afterward. Capability of enduring pain is also insisted upon, and the monitress tests their powers by scorching their arms with burning charcoal. Of course, all these severe labors require that the hands should be hard and horny, and accordingly, the last test which the girls have to endure is holding in the hand for a certain time a piece of hot iron.

Rough and rude as this school of instruction may be, its purport is judicious enough; inasmuch as when the girls are married, and enter upon their new duties, they do so with a full and practical knowledge of them, and so escape the punishment which they would assuredly receive if they were to fail in their tasks. The name of the ceremony is called “Bogale.” During the time that it lasts, the girls enjoy several privileges, one of which is highly prized. If a boy who has not passed through his ordeal should come in their way, he is at once pounced upon, and held down by some, while others bring a supply of thorn-branches, and beat him severely with this unpleasant rod. Should they be in sufficient numbers, they are not very particular whether the trespasser be protected by the boguera or not; and instances have been known when they have captured adult men, and disciplined them so severely that they bore the scars ever afterward.

In their feeding they are not particularly cleanly, turning meat about on the fire with their fingers, and then rubbing their hands on their bodies, for the sake of the fat which adheres to them. Boiling, however, is the usual mode of cooking; and when eating it, they place a lump of meat in the mouth, seize it with the teeth, hold it in the left hand so as to stretch it as far as possible, and then, with a neat upward stroke of a knife or spear head, cut off the required morsel. This odd mode of eating meat may be found among the Abyssinians and the Esquimaux, and in each case it is a marvel how the men avoid cutting off their noses.

The following is a description of one of the milk bags. It is made from the skin of some large animal, such as an ox or a zebra, and is rather more than two feet in length, and one in width. It is formed from a tough piece of hide, which is cut to the proper shape, and then turned over and sewed, the seams being particularly firm and strong. The hide of the quagga is said to be the best, as it gives to the milk a peculiar flavor, which is admired by the natives. The skin is taken from the back of the animal, that being the strongest part. It is first stretched on the ground with wooden pegs, and the hair scraped off with an adze. It is then cut to the proper shape, and soaked in water until soft enough to be worked. Even with care, these bags are rather perishable articles; and, when used for water, they do not last so long as when they are employed for milk. A rather large opening is left at the top, and a small one at the bottom, both of which are closed by conical plugs. Through the upper orifice the milk is poured into the bag in a fresh state, and removed when coagulated; and through the lower aperture the whey is drawn off as wanted. As is the case with the Kaffir milk baskets, the Bechuana milk bags are never cleaned, a small amount of sour milk being always left in them, so as to aid in coagulating the milk, which the natives never drink in a fresh state.

When travelling, the Bechuanas hang their milk bags on the backs of oxen; and it sometimes happens that the jolting of the oxen, and consequent shaking of the bag, causes the milk to be partially churned, so that small pieces of butter are found floating in it. The butter is very highly valued; but it is not eaten, being reserved for the more important office of greasing the hair or skin.

The spoons which the Bechuanas use are often carved in the most elaborate manner. In general shape they resemble those used by the Kaffirs—who, by the way, sometimes purchase better articles from the Bechuanas—but the under surface of the bowl is entirely covered with designs, which are always effective, and in many cases are absolutely artistic from the boldness and simplicity of the designs. I have several of these spoons, in all of which the surface has first been charred and polished, and then the pattern cut rather deeply, so as to leave yellowish-white lines in bold contrast with the jetty black of the uncut portion. Sometimes it happens that, when they are travelling, and have no spoons with them, the Bechuanas rapidly scoop up their broth in the right hand, throw it into the palm of the left, and then fling it into the mouth, taking care to lick the hands clean after the operation.

Music is practised by the Bechuana tribes, who do not use the goura, but merely employ a kind of reed pipe. The tunes that are played upon this instrument are of a severely simple character, being limited to a single note, repeated as often as the performer chooses to play it. A very good imitation of Bechuanan instrumental music may be obtained by taking a penny whistle, and blowing it at intervals. In default of a whistle, a key will do quite as well. Vocal music is known better among the Bechuanas than among the preceding tribes—or, at all events, is not so utterly opposed to European ideas of the art. The melody is simple enough, consisting chiefly of descending and ascending by thirds; and they have a sufficient appreciation of harmony to sing in two parts without producing the continuous discords which delight the soul of the Hottentot tribes.

These reed pipes, called “lichâka,” are of various lengths, and are blown exactly like Pandean pipes, i. e. transversely across the orifice, which is cut with a slight slope. Each individual has one pipe only, and, as above stated, can only play one note. But the Bechuanas have enough musical ear to tune their pipes to any required note, which they do by pushing or withdrawing a movable plug which closes the reed at the lower end. When a number of men assemble for the purpose of singing and dancing, they tune their pipes beforehand, taking great pains in getting the precise note which they want, and being as careful about it as if they belonged to a European orchestra. The general effect of these pipes, played together, and with certain intervals, is by no means inharmonious, and has been rather happily compared to the sound of sledge or wagon bells. The correct method of holding the pipe is to place the thumb against the cheek, and the forefinger over the upper lip, while the other three fingers hold the instrument firmly in its place. These little instruments run through a scale of some eleven or twelve notes. The dances of the Bechuanas are somewhat similar to those of the Amakosa and other Kaffirs; but they have the peculiarity of using a rather remarkable headdress when they are in full ceremonial costume. This is made from porcupine quills arranged in a bold and artistic manner, so as to form a kind of coronet. None of the stiff and short quills of the porcupine are used for this purpose, but only the long and slender quills which adorn the neck of the animal, and, in consequence of their great proportionate length, bend over the back in graceful curves. These headdresses are worn by the men, who move themselves about so as to cause the pliant quills to wave backward and forward, and so contrive to produce a really graceful effect. The headdress is not considered an essential part of the dance, but is used on special occasions.

When dancing, they arrange themselves in a ring, all looking inward, but without troubling themselves about their number or any particular arrangement. The size of the ring depends entirely upon the number of dancers, as they press closely together. Each is at liberty to use any step which he may think proper to invent, and to blow his reed pipe at any intervals that may seem most agreeable to him. But each man contrives to move very slowly in a slanting direction, so that the whole ring revolves on the same spot, making, on an average, one revolution per minute.

The direction in which it moves seems perfectly indifferent, as at one time it will revolve from right to left, and then, without any apparent reason, the motion is reversed. Dancers enter and leave the ring just as they feel inclined, some of the elders only taking part in the dance for a few minutes, and others dancing for hours in succession, merely retiring occasionally to rest their wearied limbs. The dancers scarcely speak at all when engaged in this absorbing amusement, though they accompany their reed whistles with native songs. Round the dancers is an external ring of women and girls, who follow them as they revolve, and keep time to their movements by clapping their hands.

As is usual in this country, a vast amount of exertion is used in the dance, and, as a necessary consequence, the dancers are bathed in perspiration, and further inconvenienced by the melting of the grease with which their heads and bodies are thickly covered. A handkerchief would be the natural resort of an European under such circumstances; but the native of Southern Africa does not possess such an article, and therefore is obliged to make use of an implement which seems rather ill adapted for its purpose. It is made from the bushy tail of jackals, and is prepared as follows: The tails are removed from the animals, and, while they are yet fresh, the skin is stripped from the bones, leaving a hollow tube of fur-clad skin. Three or four of these tails are thus prepared, and through them is thrust a stick, generally about four feet in length, so that the tail forms a sort of large and very soft brush. This is used as a handkerchief, not only by the Bechuanas, but by many of the neighboring tribes, and is thought a necessary part of a Bechuana’s wardrobe. The stick on which they are fixed is cut from the very heart of the kameel-dorn acacia, where the wood is peculiarly hard and black, and a very great amount of labor is expended on its manufacture. The name of this implement is Kaval-klusi, or Kaval-pukoli, according to the animal from which it is made; the “klusi” being apparently the common yellow jackal, and the “pukoli” the black-tailed jackal. The natives fancy that the jackal possesses some quality which benefits the sight, and therefore they may often be seen drawing the kaval-klusi across their eyes. A chief will sometimes have a far more valuable implement, which he uses for the same purpose. Instead of being made of mere jackal tails, it is formed from ostrich feathers.

The remarkable excellence of the Bechuanas in the arts of peace has already been mentioned. They are not only the best fur-dressers and metal-workers, but they are preëminent among all the tribes of that portion of Africa in their architecture. Not being a nomad people, and being attached to the soil, they have no idea of contenting themselves with the mat-covered cages of the Hottentots, or with the simple wattle-and-daub huts of the Kaffirs. They do not merely build huts, but erect houses, and display an ingenuity in their construction that is perfectly astonishing. Whence they derived their architectural knowledge, no one knows. Why the Kaffirs, who are also men of the soil, should not have learned from their neighbors how to build better houses, no one can tell. The fact remains, that the Bechuana is simply supreme in architecture, and there is no neighboring tribe that is even worthy to be ranked in the second class.

We have already seen that the house of Dingan, the great Kaffir despot, was exactly like that of any of his subjects, only larger, and the supporting posts covered with beads. Now a Bechuana of very moderate rank would be ashamed of such an edifice by way of a residence; and even the poor—if we may use the word—can build houses for themselves quite as good as that of Dingan. Instead of being round-topped, like so many wickerwork ant-hills, as is the case with the Kaffir huts, the houses of the Bechuanas are conical, and the shape may be roughly defined by saying that a Bechuana’s hut looks something like a huge whipping-top with its point upward. The artist has represented them on page 287.

A man of moderate rank makes his house in the following manner—or, rather, orders his wives to build it for him, the women being the only architects. First, a number of posts are cut from the kameel-dorn acacia-tree, their length varying according to the office which they have to fulfil. Supposing, for example, that the house had to be sixteen or twenty feet in diameter, some ten or twelve posts are needed, which will be about nine feet in height when planted in the ground. These are placed in a circle and firmly fixed at tolerably equal distances. Next comes a smaller circle of much smaller posts, which, when fixed in the ground, measure from fifteen to eighteen feet in height, one of them being longer than the rest. Both the circles of posts are connected with beams which are fastened to their tops.

The next process is to lay a sufficient quantity of rafters on these posts, so that they all meet at one point, and these are tightly lashed together. This point is seldom in the exact centre, so that the hut always looks rather lop-sided. A roof made of reeds is then placed upon the rafters, and the skeleton of the house is complete. The thatch is held in its place by a number of long and thin twigs, which are bent, and the end thrust into the thatch. These twigs are set in parallel rows, and hold the thatch firmly together. The slope of the roof is rather slight, and is always that of a depressed cone, as may be seen by reference to the illustration.

Next come the walls. The posts which form the outer circle are connected with a wall sometimes about six feet high, but frequently only two feet or so. But the wall which connects the inner circle is eight or ten feet in height, and sometimes reaches nearly to the roof of the house. These walls are generally made of the mimosa thorns, which are so ingeniously woven that the garments of those who pass by are in no danger, while they effectually prevent even the smallest animal from creeping through. The inside of the wall is strengthened as well as smoothed by a thick coating of clay. The family live in the central compartment of the house, while the servants inhabit the outer portion, which also serves as a verandah in which the family can sit in the daytime, and enjoy the double benefit of fresh air and shade.

The engraving gives an idea of the ordinary construction of a Bechuana hut. Around this house is a tolerably high paling, made in a similar fashion of posts and thorns, and within this enclosure the cattle are kept, when their owner is rich enough to build an enclosure for their especial use. This fence, or wall, as it may properly be called, is always very firmly built, and sometimes is of very strong construction. It is on an average six feet high, and is about two feet and a half wide at the bottom, and a foot or less at the top. It is made almost entirely of small twigs and branches, placed upright, and nearly parallel with each other, but so firmly interlaced that they form an admirable defence against the assagai, while near the bottom the wall is so strong as to stop an ordinary bullet. A few inches from the top, the wall is strengthened by a double band of twigs, one band being outside, and the other in the interior.

The doorways of a Bechuana hut are rather curiously constructed. An aperture is made in the wall, larger above than below, so as to suit the shape of a human being, whose shoulders are wider than his feet. This formation serves two purposes. In the first place it lessens the size of the aperture, and so diminishes the amount of draught, and, in the next place, it forms a better defence against an adversary than if it were of larger size, and reaching to the ground.

The fireplace is situated outside the hut, though within the fence, the Bechuanas having a very wholesome dread of fire, and being naturally anxious that their elaborately built houses should not be burned down. Outside the house, but within the enclosure, is the corn-house. This is a smaller hut, constructed in much the same manner as the dwelling-house, and containing the supply of corn. This is kept in jars, one of which is of prodigious size, and would quite throw into the shade the celebrated oil jars in which the “Forty Thieves” hid themselves. There is also a separate house in which the servants sleep.

This corn jar is made of twigs plaited and woven into form, and strengthened by sticks thrust into the ground, so that it is irremovable, even if its huge dimensions did not answer that purpose. The jar is plastered both on the outside and the interior with clay, so that it forms an admirable protection for the corn. These jars are sometimes six feet in height and three in width, and their shape almost exactly resembles that of the oil jars of Europe. The best specimens are raised six or seven inches from the ground, the stakes which form their scaffolding answering the purpose of legs. Every house has one such jar; and in the abode of wealthy persons there is generally one large jar and a number of smaller ones, all packed together closely, and sometimes entirely filling the store-house.

As is the case with the Kaffirs, the Bechuanas build their houses and walls in a circular form, and have no idea of making a wall or a fence in a straight line. Mr. Burchell accounts for it by suggesting that they have discovered the greater capacity of a circle compared with any other figure of equal circumference, and that they make circular houses and cattle-pens in order to accommodate the greatest number of men or cattle in the least possible space. I rather doubt the truth of this theory, because these people cannot build a straight wall or a square house, even if they wished to do so, and believe that the real cause must be looked for in their mental conformation.

We will now examine the illustration which exhibits a plan of the house belonging to a Bechuana chief named Molemmi. It is taken from Burchell’s valuable work.

Encircling the whole is the outer wall, and it will be seen that the enclosure is divided by means of cross walls, one of which has a doorway. At the top of the plan is the corn-house, in which is one large jar and one of the smaller sort. The shaded portion represents that part of the building which is covered by the roof. The servants’ house is also separate, and may be seen on the right of the plan. The fireplace is shown by the small circle just below the cross wall on the right hand of the plan. In the middle is the house itself, with its verandahs and passages covered by a common roof. In the very centre is the sleeping-place of the family; immediately outside it is the passage where the servants sit, and outside it again is the verandah. The little circles upon the plan represent the places occupied by the posts.

In further explanation of the exceeding care that a Bechuana bestows on his house, I here give a portion of a letter sent to me by Mr. T. Baines, the eminent African traveller. “About 1850, while that which is now the Free State was then the Orange River Sovereignty, my friend Joseph Macabe and I were lying at Coqui’s Drift on the Vaal (or Yellow-Dun) River, and, needing corn and other supplies, we spanned-in the cattle and proceeded to the village. This we found very prettily situated among bold and tolerably well-wooded hills, against whose dark sides the conical roofs, thatched with light yellowish reeds, contrasted advantageously.

“As usual, the tribe was beginning to lay desolate the surrounding country by recklessly cutting down the wood around their dwellings, a process by which in many instances they have so denuded the hills that the little springs that formerly flowed from them are no longer protected by the overhanging foliage, and are evaporated by the fierce heat of the sun upon the unsheltered earth. Of this process, old Lattakoo, the former residence of the missionary Moffatt, is a notable example, and it is proverbial that whenever a native tribe settles by a little rivulet, the water in a few years diminishes and dries up.

“The women and children, as usual in villages out of the common path of travellers, fled half in fear and half in timidity at our approach, and peeped coyly from behind the fences of mud or reeds as we advanced. We left our wagon in the outskirts of the village, and near to the centre found the chief and his principal men seated beneath a massive bower or awning of rough timber, cut with the most reckless extravagance of material, and piled in forked trunks still standing in the earth, as if the design of the builders had been to give the least possible amount of shade with the greatest expenditure of material.... Most of the men were employed in the manufacture of karosses or skin cloaks from the spoils of various animals killed in the chase. Some were braying or rubbing the skins between the hands to soften them, others were scraping the inner surface, so as to raise the nap so much prized by the natives, and others, having cut the skins into shape with their knives or assagais, were slowly and carefully sewing them together. One man was tinkling with a piece of stick on the string of a bow, to which a calabash had been tied in order to increase the resonance, and all looked busy and happy. Our present of snuff was received with intense gratification, but very few of them were extravagant enough to inhale the precious stimulant in its pure state, and generally a small portion was placed upon the back of the left hand, and then a quantity of dust was lifted with a small horn spoon, carefully mixed with the snuff, and inhaled with infinite satisfaction.

“Their habitations were arranged in concentric circles, the outermost of which encloses a more or less spacious court or yard, fenced either with tall straight reeds, or with a wall of fine clay, carefully smoothed and patted up by the hands of the women. It is afterward covered with transverse lines, the space between which are variously etched with parallel lines, either straight, waved, or zigzag, according to fancy. The floor of this court is also smoothed with clay, and elevations of the same material in the form of segments of a circle serve for seats, the whole being kept so clean that dry food might be eaten from the floor without scruple.

“The walls of the hut are also of clay, plastered upon the poles which support the conical roof, but the eaves project so as to form a low verandah all around it. Low poles at intervals give this also an additional support, and a “stoep” or elevation, about nine inches high and three feet broad, surrounds the house beneath it.

“The doorway is an arch about three feet high. The inside of the wall is scored and etched into compartments by lines traced with the fingers or a pointed stick. Sometimes melon or pumpkin seeds are stuck into the clay in fanciful patterns, and afterward removed, leaving the hollows lined with their slightly lustrous bark.

“Within this again is another wall, enclosing a still smaller room, which, in the case of the chief’s hut, was well stored with soft skin mantles, and, as he said, must have been most agreeably warm as a sleeping apartment in the cold weather, more especially as the doorway might be wholly or partially closed at pleasure. Pilasters of clay were wrought over the doorway, mouldings were run round it, and zigzag ornaments in charcoal, or in red or yellow clay, were plentifully used. The circular mouldings seen upon what may be called the ceiling are really the bands of reeds upon the under side of the roof, by which those that form the thatch are secured.

“The space between the inner chamber and the outer wall extended all round the hut, and in it, but rather in the rear, were several jars and calabashes of outchualla, or native beer, in process of fermentation. My first impression of this beverage was, that it resembled a mixture of bad table-beer and spoiled vinegar, but it is regarded both as food and drink by the natives and travellers who have become accustomed to it. A host considers that he has fulfilled the highest duties of hospitality when he has set before his guest a jar of beer. It is thought an insult to leave any in the vessel, but the guest may give to his attendants any surplus that remains after he has satisfied himself.”

The burial of the dead is conducted after a rather curious manner. The funeral ceremonies actually begin before the sick person is dead, and must have the effect of hastening dissolution. As soon as the relations of the sick man see that his end is near, they throw over him a mat, or sometimes a skin, and draw it together until the enclosed individual is forced into a sitting, or rather a crouching posture, with the arms bent, the head bowed, and the knees brought into contact with the chin. In this uncomfortable position the last spark of life soon expires, and the actual funeral begins.

The relatives dig a grave, generally within the cattle fence, not shaped as is the case in Europe, but a mere round hole, about three feet in diameter. The interior of this strangely shaped grave is then rubbed with a bulbous root. An opening is then made in the fence surrounding the house, and the body is carried through it, still enveloped in the mat, and with a skin thrown over the head. It is then lowered into the grave, and great pains are taken to place it exactly facing the north, an operation which consumes much time, but which is achieved at last with tolerable accuracy.

When they have settled this point to their satisfaction, they bring fragments of an ant-hill, which, as the reader may remember, is the best and finest clay that can be procured, and lay it carefully about the feet of the corpse, over which it is pressed by two men who stand in the grave for that purpose. More and more clay is handed down in wooden bowls, and stamped firmly down, the operators raising the mat in proportion as the earth rises. They take particular care that not even the smallest pebble shall mix with the earth that surrounds the body, and, as the clay is quite free from stones, it is the fittest material for their purpose.

As soon as the earth reaches the mouth, a branch of acacia is placed in the grave, and some roots of grass laid on the head, so that part of the grass projects above the level of the ground. The excavated soil is then scooped up so as to make a small mound, over which is poured several bowlfuls of water, the spectators meanwhile shouting out, “Pula! Pula!” as they do when applauding a speaker in the parliament. The weapons and implements of the deceased are then brought to the grave, and presented to him, but they are not left there, as is the case with some tribes. The ceremony ends by the whole party leaving the ground, amid the lamentations of the women, who keep up a continual wailing crying.

These are the full ceremonials that take place at the death of a chief,—at all events, of a man of some importance, but they vary much according to the rank of the individual. Sometimes a rain-maker has forbidden all sepulchral rites whatever, as interfering with the production of rain, and during the time of this interdict every corpse is dragged into the bush to be consumed by the hyænas. Even the very touch of a dead body is forbidden, and, under this strange tyranny, a son has been seen to fling a leathern rope round the leg of his dead mother, drag her body into the bush, and there leave it, throwing down the rope and abandoning it, because it had been defiled by the contact of a dead body, and he might happen to touch the part that had touched the corpse.

The concluding scene in a Bechuana funeral is illustrated on the previous page.

In the background is seen the fence of the kraal, in which a hole has been broken, through which the body of the deceased has been carried. Behind the men who are lowering the body into the grave is a girl bearing in her hands the branch of acacia which is to be placed on the head of the corpse—evidently a relic of some tradition long ago forgotten, or, at all events, of which they profess to be ignorant. At the side stands the old woman who bears the weapons of the deceased chief—his spears, axe, and bow—and in the foreground are the bowl of water for lustration, and the hoes with which the grave has been dug.