It is worth remarking that porridge of maize or sorghum is never offered without some pulse, beans, or bean leaves, or flowers, they seem to feel the need of it, or of pulse, which is richer in flesh-formers than the porridge.
Last night a loud clapping of hands by the men was followed by several half-suppressed screams by a woman.

They were quite _eldritch_, as if she could not get them out.

Then succeeded a lot of utterances as if she were in ecstasy, to which a man responded, "Moio, moio." The utterances, so far as I could catch, were in five-syllable snatches--abrupt and laboured.

I wonder if this "bubbling or boiling over" has been preserved as the form in which the true prophets of old gave forth their "burdens"?
One sentence, frequently repeated towards the close of the effusion, was "_linyama uta_," "flesh of the bow," showing that the Pythoness loved venison killed by the bow.

The people applauded, and attended, hoping, I suppose, that rain would follow her efforts.