On Tuesday, Lieutenant Crichton-Browne gave to the Geographical Section of
the British Association a spirited account of his journey across the veldt in Matabeleland. His description of an encounter with a party of Matabele warriors might have been taken straight out of a novel by Mr. Rider- Haggard. While passing through a piece of fertile territory, Lieutenant Crichton-Browne suddenly heard yells and shouts, and, turning round, saw fully a hundred natives rushing straight at him. "In a moment I was on my horse, and then stood still as a rock. On they came, with a free, swinging movement, and it was a fine sight, even with all its peril. They were stalwart fellows, tall, ebony savages,—the finest specimens of African natives I have yet seen,—and they displayed a sort of fiendish energy as they ran along, hullabalooing at the top of their voices, and rattling their assegais against their shields." Specially fierce was an Induna with a black ring on his head. On this mighty captain Lieutenant Crichton-Browne fixed his eye and smiled. "When I first smiled on this Ring-kop Matabele, he was the picture of savage rage; as I went on smiling he mollified, and as I smiled again and again he broke into a hoarse laugh. It was a hoarse laugh, but I think I never heard a jollier one, and immediately I followed up my advantage. Still smiling and nodding at him, I said, in loud but conciliatory tones, The compliments of the season to you, Mr. Ring-kop ; I hope I see you very well." Though they did not understand it, this salutation amused the Mata- bele, and they very soon became friendly, and conducted the white men to their kraal,—not as prisoners, but as guests. Lieutenant Crichton-Browne was evidently greatly struck by the beauty and fertility of Matabeleland. As long as Loben- gala lives, he thinks, there is no danger of war.
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