Leaving the rescued slaves, we moved off to seek an interview with these scourges of the country.

On our way we met crowds of Manganja fleeing from the war in front.

These poor fugitives from the slave hunt had, as usual, to leave all the food they possessed, except the little they could carry on their heads.

We passed field after field of Indian corn or beans, standing ripe for harvesting, but the owners were away.

The villages were all deserted: one where we breakfasted two years before, and saw a number of men peacefully weaving cloth, and, among ourselves, called it the "Paisley of the hills," was burnt; the stores of corn were poured out in cartloads, and scattered all over the plain, and all along the paths, neither conquerors nor conquered having been able to convey it away.