On the Sunday afternoon in which he died, when our usual religious service was over, I visited him with my little boy Robert.

"Come near," said Sebituane, "and see if I am any longer a man.

I am done." He was thus sensible of the dangerous nature of his disease, so I ventured to assent, and added a single sentence regarding hope after death.

"Why do you speak of death ?" said one of a relay of fresh doctors; "Sebituane will never die." If I had persisted, the impression would have been produced that by speaking about it I wished him to die.

After sitting with him some time, and commending him to the mercy of God, I rose to depart, when the dying chieftain, raising himself up a little from his prone position, called a servant, and said, "Take Robert to Maunku (one of his wives), and tell her to give him some milk." These were the last words of Sebituane.
We were not informed of his death until the next day.