MISSION WORK IN MASHONALAND.
A Jesuit missionary writing from Victoria, in Mashonaland, Africa, where war has been raging, gives an interesting account of the natives. "I have been a little about the country, on horseback," he says, "the horse being lent by kind friends, in carts, obtained in the same way, and on foot, trying to organize mission stations at Makorie, forty miles north, where there are six or seven Kaffir kraals. I have also been at Simuto's kraal, fifteen miles north. This last chief is a powerful old fellow, having sway over almost all the kraals near Victoria. They are all very suspicious, and cannot understand why the white man, the Mumrume, wants to come and live with them, instead of remaining at home. It will take a long time before we can do much; the language especially is in the way, a dreadful language, without any fixed vocabulary, and, think of it, changing every ten miles. "Our people here, Mashonas and Makalakas, are in the lowest grade of savages, liars, thieves, loungers, cowards, etc. They live miserably under petty chiefs, who are as miserable as their lowest subject. They hide in mountains and in holes in the rocks, for fear of the Matabeles. These are a fine race compared with the Mashonas. Physically they are not of the negro type. Some, of course, are remarkably ugly—thick lips, flat nose, etc.—but many are to be found with European features, sometimes almost perfect—aquiline nose, fine forehead, decent mustache, and beard growing in Aryan fashion. Take a piece of soap, rub well, and you may introduce them as your friends from the South. These have certainly some Arabian blood in their veins. A nice little party of five lions are walking about within a few miles' distance. I will give them your kindest regards should they call on me. Good-by. Remember me before the Lord."—Catholic News.