FOOTNOTES:

"The Main Stream came up to Susi's Mouth""The Main Stream came up to Susi's Mouth"

24th January, 1873.—Went on E. and N.E. to avoid the deep part of a large river, which requires two canoes, but the men sent by the chief would certainly hide them. Went 1-3/4 hour's journey to a large stream through drizzling rain, at least 300 yards of deep water, amongst sedges and sponges of 100 yards. One part was neck deep for fifty yards, and the water cold. We plunged in elephants' footprints 1-1/2 hour, then came on one hour to a small rivulet ten feet broad, but waist deep, bridge covered and broken down. Carrying me across one of the broad deep sedgy rivers is really a very difficult task. One we crossed was at least 2000 feet broad, or more than 300yards. The first part, the main stream, came up to Susi's mouth, and wetted my seat and legs. One held up my pistol behind, then one after another took a turn, and when he sank into a deep elephant's foot-print, he required two to lift him, so as to gain a footing on the level, which was over waist deep. Others went on, and bent down the grass, to insure some footing on the side of the elephants' path. Every ten or twelve paces brought us to a clear stream, flowing fast in its own channel, while over all a strong current came bodily through all the rushes and aquatic plants. Susi had the first spell, then Farijala, then a tall, stout, Arab-looking man, then Amoda, then Chanda, then Wadé Salé, and each time I was lifted off bodily, and put on another pair of stout willing shoulders, and fifty yards put them out of breath: no wonder! It was sore on the women folk of our party. It took us full an hour and a half for all to cross over, and several came over turn to help me and their friends. The water was cold, and so was the wind, but no leeches plagued us. We had to hasten on the building of sheds after crossing the second rivulet, as rain threatened us. After 4 P.M. it came on a pouring cold rain, when we were all under cover. We are anxious about food. The Lake is near, but we are not sure of provisions, as there have been changes of population. Our progress is distressingly slow. Wet, wet, wet; sloppy weather, truly, and no observations, except that the land near the Lake being very level, the rivers spread out into broad friths and sponges. The streams are so numerous that there has been a scarcity of names. Here we have Loon and Luéna. We had two Loous before, and another Luena.

25th January, 1873.—Kept in by rain. A man from Unyanyembé joined us this morning. He says that he was left sick. Rivulets and sponges again, and through flat forest, where, as usual, we can see the slope of the land by the leaves being washed into heaps in the direction which thewater in the paths wished to take. One and a half hours more, and then to the River Loou, a large stream with bridge destroyed. Sent to make repairs before we go over it, and then passed. The river is deep, and flows fast to the S.W., having about 200 yards of safe flood flowing in long grass—clear water. The men built their huts, and had their camp ready by 3 P.M. A good day's work, not hindered by rain. The country all depopulated, so we can buy nothing. Elephants and antelopes have been here lately.

26th January, 1873.—I arranged to go to our next River Luena, and ascend it till we found it small enough for crossing, as it has much "Tinga-tinga," or yielding spongy soil; but another plan was formed by night, and we were requested to go down the Loou. Not wishing to appear overbearing, I consented until we were, after two hours' southing, brought up by several miles of Tinga-tinga. The people in a fishing village ran away from us, and we had to wait for some sick ones. The women are collecting mushrooms. A man came near us, but positively refused to guide us to Matipa, or anywhere else.

The sick people compelled us to make an early halt.

27th January, 1873.—On again through streams, over sponges and rivulets thigh deep. There are marks of gnu and buffalo. I lose much blood, but it is a safety-valve for me, and I have no fever or other ailments.

28th January, 1873.—A dreary wet morning, and no food that we know of near. It is drop, drop, drop, and drizzling from the north-west. We killed our last calf but one last night to give each a mouthful. At 9.30 we were allowed by the rain to leave our camp, and march S.E. for two hours to a strong deep rivulet ten feet broad only, but waist deep, and 150 yards of flood all deep too. Sponge about forty yards in all, and running fast out. Camped by a broad prairie or Bouga.

29th January, 1873.—No rain in the night, for a wonder. Wetramped 1-1/4 hour to a broad sponge, having at least 300 yards of flood, and clear water flowing S.W., but no usual stream. All was stream flowing through the rushes, knee and thigh deep. On still with the same, repeated again and again, till we came to broad branching sponges, at which I resolved to send out scouts S., S.E., and S.W. The music of the singing birds, the music of the turtle doves, the screaming of the frankolin proclaim man to be near.

30th January, 1873.—Remain waiting for the scouts. Manuasera returned at dark, having gone about eight hours south, and seen the Lake and two islets. Smoke now appeared in the distance, so he turned, and the rest went on to buy food where the smoke was. Wet evening.

FOOTNOTES:[26]Bangé or hemp in time produces partial idiotcy if smoked in excess. It is used amongst all the Interior tribes.[27]Isaiah i. 8.

[26]Bangé or hemp in time produces partial idiotcy if smoked in excess. It is used amongst all the Interior tribes.

[27]Isaiah i. 8.

Entangled amongst the marshes of Bangweolo. Great privations. Obliged to return to Chituñkuè's. At the chief's mercy. Agreeably surprised with the chief. Start once more. Very difficult march. Robbery exposed. Fresh attack of illness. Sends scouts out to find villages. Message to Chirubwé. An ant raid. Awaits news from Matipa. Distressing perplexity. The Bougas of Bangweolo. Constant rain above and flood below. Ill. Susi and Chuma sent as envoys to Matipa. Reach Bangweolo. Arrive at Matipa's islet. Matipa's town. The donkey suffers in transit. Tries to go on to Kabinga's. Dr. Livingstone makes a demonstration. Solution of the transport difficulty. Susi and detachment sent to Kabinga's. Extraordinary extent of flood. Reaches Kabinga's. An upset. Crosses the Chambezé. The River Muanakazi. They separate into companies by land and water. A disconsolate lion. Singular caterpillars. Observations on fish. Coasting along the southern flood of Lake Bangweolo. Dangerous state of Dr. Livingstone.

1st February, 1873.—Waiting for the scouts. They return unsuccessful—forced to do so by hunger. They saw a very large river flowing into the Lake, but did not come across a single soul. Killed our last calf, and turn back for four hard days' travel to Chituñkuè's. I send men on before us to bring food back towards us.

2nd February, 1873.—March smartly back to our camp of 28th ult. The people bear their hunger well. They collect mushrooms and plants, and often get lost in this flat featureless country.

3rd February, 1873.—Return march to our bridge on the Lofu, five hours. In going we went astray, and took six hours todo the work of five. Tried lunars in vain. Either sun or moon in clouds. On the Luéna.

4th February, 1873.—Return to camp on the rivulet with muchMethonica gloriosaon its banks. Our camp being on its left bank of 26th. It took long to cross the next river, probably the Kwalé, though the elephants' footprints are all filled up now. Camp among deserted gardens, which afford a welcome supply of cassava and sweet potatoes. The men who were sent on before us slept here last night, and have deceived us by going more slowly without loads than we who are loaded.

5th February, 1873.—Arrived at Chituñkuè's, crossing two broad deep brooks, and on to the Malalenzi, now swollen, having at least 200 yards of flood and more than 300 yards of sponge. Saluted by a drizzling shower. We are now at Chituñkuè's mercy.

We find the chief more civil than we expected. He said each chief had his own land and his own peculiarities. He was not responsible for others. We were told that we had been near to Matipa and other chiefs: he would give us guides if we gave him a cloth and some powder.

We returned over these forty-one miles in fifteen hours, through much deep water. Our scouts played us false both in time and beads: the headmen punished them. I got lunars, for a wonder. Visited Chitunkubwé, as his name properly is. He is a fine jolly-looking man, of a European cast of countenance, and very sensible and friendly. I gave him two cloths, for which he seemed thankful, and promised good guides to Matipa's. He showed me two of Matipa's men who had heard us firing guns to attract one of our men who had strayed; these men followed us. It seems we had been close to human habitations, but did not know it. We have lost half a month by this wandering, but it was all owing to the unfriendliness of some and the fears of all. I begged for a more northerly path, where thewater is low. It is impossible to describe the amount of water near the Lake. Rivulets without number. They are so deep as to damp all ardour. I passed a very large striped spider in going to visit Chitunkubwé. The stripes were of yellowish green, and it had two most formidable reddish mandibles, the same shape as those of the redheaded white ant. It seemed to be eating a kind of ant with a light-coloured head, not seen elsewhere. A man killed it, and all the natives said that it was most dangerous. We passed gardens of dura; leaves all split up with hail, and forest leaves all punctured.

6th February, 1873.—Chitunkubwé gave a small goat and a large basket of flour as a return present. I gave him three-quarters of a pound of powder, in addition to the cloth.

7th February, 1873.—This chief showed his leanings by demanding prepayment for his guides. This being a preparatory step to their desertion I resisted, and sent men to demand what he meant by his words; he denied all, and said that his people lied, not he. We take this for what it is worth. He gives two guides to-morrow morning, and visits us this afternoon.

8th February, 1873.—The chief dawdles, although he promised great things yesterday. He places the blame on his people, who did not prepare food on account of the rain. Time is of no value to them. We have to remain over to-day. It is most trying to have to wait on frivolous pretences. I have endured such vexatious delays. The guides came at last with quantities of food, which they intend to bargain with my people on the way. A Nassicker who carried my saddle was found asleep near my camp.

9th February, 1873.—Slept in a most unwholesome, ruined village. Rank vegetation had run over all, and the soil smelled offensively. Crossed a sponge, then a rivulet, and sponge running into the Miwalé Eiver, then by a rocky passage we crossed the Mofiri, or great Tinga-tinga, a waterrunning strongly waist and breast deep, above thirty feet broad here, but very much broader below. After this we passed two more rills and the River Methonua, but we build a camp above our former one. The human ticks called "papasi" by the Suaheli, and "karapatos" by the Portuguese, made even the natives call out against their numbers and ferocity.

10th February, 1873.—Back again to our old camp on the Lovu or Lofu by the bridge. We left in a drizzle, which continued from 4 A.M. to 1 P.M. We were three hours in it, and all wetted, just on reaching camp by 200 yards, of flood mid-deep; but we have food.

11th February, 1873.—Our guides took us across country, where we saw tracks of buffaloes, and in a meadow, the head of a sponge, we saw a herd of Hartebeests. A drizzly night was followed by a morning of cold wet fog, but in three hours we reached our old camp: it took us six hours to do this distance before, and five on our return. We camped on a deep bridged stream, called the Kiachibwé.

12th February, 1873.—We crossed the Kasoso, which joins the Mokisya, a river we afterwards crossed: it flows N.W., then over the Mofungwé. The same sponges everywhere.

13th February, 1873.—In four hours we came within sight of the Luéna and Lake, and saw plenty of elephants and other game, but very shy. The forest trees are larger. The guides are more at a loss than we are, as they always go in canoes in the flat rivers and rivulets. Went E., then S.E. round to S.

14th February, 1873.—Public punishment to Chirango for stealing beads, fifteen cuts; diminished his load to 40 lbs., giving him blue and white beads to be strung. The water stands so high in the paths that I cannot walk dryshod, and I found in the large bougas or prairies in front, that it lay knee deep, so I sent on two men to go to the first villages of Matipa for large canoes to navigate the Lake, or give us a guide to go east to the Chambezé, to go round on foot. Itwas Halima who informed on Chirango, as he offered her beads for a cloth of a kind which she knew had not hitherto been taken out of the baggage. This was so far faithful in her, but she has an outrageous tongue. I remain because of an excessive hæmorrhagic discharge.

[We cannot but believe Livingstone saw great danger in these constant recurrences of his old disorder: we find a trace of it in the solemn reflections which he wrote in his pocket-book, immediately under the above words:—]

If the good Lord gives me favour, and permits me to finish my work, I shall thank and bless Him, though it has cost me untold toil, pain, and travel; this trip has made my hair all grey.

15th February, 1873, Sunday.—Service. Killed our last goat while waiting for messengers to return from Matipa's. Evening: the messenger came back, having been foiled by deep tinga-tinga and bouga. He fired his gun three times, but no answer came, so as he had slept one night away he turned, but found some men hunting, whom he brought with him. They say that Matipa is on Chirubé islet, a good man too, but far off from this.

16th February, 1873.—Sent men by the hunter's canoe to Chirubé, with a request to Matipa to convey us west if he has canoes, but, if not, to tell us truly, and we will go east and cross the Chambezé where it is small. Chitunkubwé's men ran away, refusing to wait till we had communicated with Matipa. Here the water stands underground about eighteen inches from the surface. The guides played us false, and this is why they escaped.

17th February, 1873.—The men will return to-morrow, but they have to go all the way out to the islet of Chirubé to Matipa's.

Suffered a furious attack at midnight from the red Sirafu or Driver ants. Our cook fled first at their onset. I lighted a candle, and remembering Dr. Van der Kemp's idea that noanimal will attack man unprovoked, I lay still. The first came on my foot quietly, then some began to bite between the toes, then the larger ones swarmed over the foot and bit furiously, and made the blood start out. I then went out of the tent, and my whole person was instantly covered as close as small-pox (not confluent) on a patient. Grass fires were lighted, and my men picked some off my limbs and tried to save me. After battling for an hour or two they took me into a hut not yet invaded, and I rested till they came, the pests, and routed me out there too! Then came on a steady pour of rain, which held on till noon, as if trying to make us miserable. At 9 A.M. I got back into my tent. The large Sirafu have mandibles curved like reaping-sickles, and very sharp—as fine at the point as the finest needle or a bee's sting. Their office is to remove all animal refuse, cockroaches, &c., and they took all my fat. Their appearance sets every cockroach in a flurry, and all ants, white and black, get into a panic. On man they insert the sharp curved mandibles, and then with six legs push their bodies round so as to force the points by lever power. They collect in masses in their runs and stand with mandibles extended, as if defying attack. The large ones stand thus at bay whilst the youngsters hollow out a run half an inch wide, and about an inch deep. They remained with us till late in the afternoon, and we put hot ashes on the defiant hordes. They retire to enjoy the fruits of their raid, and come out fresh another day.

18th February, 1873.—We wait hungry and cold for the return of the men who have gone to Matipa, and hope the good Lord will grant us influence with this man.

Our men have returned to-day, having obeyed the native who told them to sleep instead of going to Matipa. They bought food, and then believed that the islet Chirubé was too far off, and returned with a most lame story. We shall make the best of it by going N.W., to be near the islets andbuy food, till we can communicate with Matipa. If he fails us by fair means, we must seize canoes and go by force. The men say fear of me makes them act very cowardly. I have gone amongst the whole population kindly and fairly, but I fear I must now act rigidly, for when they hear that we have submitted to injustice, they at once conclude that we are fair game for all, and they go to lengths in dealing falsely that they would never otherwise attempt. It is, I can declare, not my nature, nor has it been my practice, to go as if "my back were up."

19th February, 1873.—A cold wet morning keeps us in this uncomfortable spot. When it clears up we go to an old stockade, to be near an islet to buy food. The people, knowing our need, are extortionate. We went on at 9 A.M. over an extensive water-covered plain. I was carried three miles to a canoe, and then in it we went westward, in branches of the Luena, very deep and flowing W. for three hours. I was carried three miles to a canoe, and we were then near enough to hear Bangweolo bellowing. The water on the plain is four, five, and seven feet deep. There are rushes, ferns, papyrus, and two lotuses, in abundance. Many dark grey caterpillars clung to the grass and were knocked off as we paddled or poled. Camped in an old village of Matipa's, where, in the west, we see the Luena enter Lake Bangweolo; but all is flat prairie or buga, filled with fast-flowing water, save a few islets covered with palms and trees. Rain continued sprinkling us from the N.W. all the morning. Elephants had run riot over the ruins, eating a species of grass now in seed. It resembles millet, and the donkey is fond of it. I have only seen this and one other species of grass in seed eaten by the African elephant. Trees, bulbs, and fruits are his dainties, although ants, whose hills he overturns, are relished. A large party in canoes came with food as soon as we reached our new quarters: they had heard that we were in search of Matipa. All are eager for calico, though they have onlyraw cassava to offer. They are clothed in bark-cloth and skins. Without canoes no movement can be made in any direction, for it is water everywhere, water above and water below.

20th February, 1873.—I sent a request to a friendly man to give me men, and a large canoe to go myself to Matipa; he says that he will let me know to-day if he can. Heavy rain by night and drizzling by day. No definite answer yet, but we are getting food, and Matipa will soon hear of us as he did when we came and returned back for food. I engaged another man to send a canoe to Matipa, and I showed him his payment, but retain it here till he comes back.

21st February, 1873.—The men engaged refuse to go to Matipa's, they have no honour. It is so wet we can do nothing. Another man spoken to about going, says that they run the risk of being killed by some hostile people on another island between this and Matipa's.

22nd February, 1873.—A wet morning. I was ill all yesterday, but escape fever by hæmorrhage. A heavy mantle of N.W. clouds came floating over us daily. No astronomical observation can possibly be taken. I was never in such misty cloudy weather in Africa. A man turned up at 9 A.M. to carry our message to Matipa; Susi and Chumah went with him. The good Lord go with them, and lend me influence and grant me help.

23rd February, 1873, Sunday.—Service. Rainy.

24th February, 1873.—Tried hard for a lunar, but the moon was lost in the glare of the sun.

25th February, 1873.—For a wonder it did not rain till 4 P.M. The people bring food, but hold out for cloth, which is inconvenient.

Susi and Chumah not appearing may mean that the men are preparing canoes and food to transport us.

25th February, 1873.—Susi returned this morning with good news from Matipa, who declares his willingness to carry us to Kabendé for the five bundles of brass wire I offered. It is not onChirubé, but amid the swamps of the mainland on the Lake's north side. Immense swampy plains all around except at Kabendé. Matipa is at variance with his brothers on the subject of the lordship of the lands and the produce of the elephants, which are very numerous. I am devoutly thankful to the Giver of all for favouring me so far, and hope that He may continue His kind aid.

No mosquitoes here, though Speke, at the Victoria Nyanza, said they covered the bushes and grass in myriads, and struck against the hands and face most disagreeably.

27th February, 1873.—Waiting for other canoes to be sent by Matipa. His men say that there is but one large river on the south of Lake Bangweolo, and called Luomba. They know the mountains on the south-east as I do, and on the west, but say they don't know any on the middle of the watershed. They plead their youth as an excuse for knowing so little.

Matipa's men proposed to take half our men, but I refused to divide our force; they say that Matipa is truthful.

28th February, 1873.—No night rain after 8 P.M., for a wonder. Baker had 1500 men in health on 15th June, 1870, at lat. 9° 26' N., and 160 on sick list; many dead. Liberated 305 slaves. His fleet was thirty-two vessels; wife and he well. I wish that I met him. Matipa's men not having come, it is said they are employed bringing the carcase of an elephant to him. I propose to go near to him to-morrow, some in canoes and some on foot. The good Lord help me. New moon this evening.

1st March, 1873.—Embarked women and goods in canoes, and went three hours S.E. to Bangweolo. Stopped on an island where people were drying fish over fires. Heavy rain wetted us all as we came near the islet, the drops were as large as half-crowns by the marks they made. We went over flooded prairie four feet deep, and covered with rushes, and two varieties of lotus or sacred lily; both are eaten, andso are papyrus. The buffaloes are at a loss in the water. Three canoes are behind. The men are great cowards. I took possession of all the paddles and punting poles, as the men showed an inclination to move off from our islet. The water in the country is prodigiously large: plains extending further than the eye can reach have four or five feet of clear water, and the Lake and adjacent lands for twenty or thirty miles are level. We are on a miserable dirty fishy island called Motovinza; all are damp. We are surrounded by scores of miles of rushes, an open sward, and many lotus plants, but no mosquitoes.

2nd March, 1873.—It took us 7-1/2 hours' punting to bring us to an island, and then the miserable weather rained constantly on our landing into the Boma (stockade), which is well peopled. The prairie is ten hours long, or about thirty miles by punting. Matipa is on an island too, with four bomas on it. A river, the Molonga, runs past it, and is a protection.[28]

The men wear a curious head-dress of skin or hair, and large upright ears.

3rd March, 1873.—Matipa paid off the men who brought us here. He says that five Sangos or coils (which brought us here) will do to take us to Kabendé, and I sincerely hope that they will. His canoes are off, bringing the meat of an elephant. There are many dogs in the village, which they use in hunting to bring elephants to bay. I visited Matipa at noon. He is an old man, slow of tongue, and self-possessed; he recommended our crossing to the south bank of the Lake to his brother, who has plenty of cattle, and to goalong that side where there are few rivers and plenty to eat. Kabendé's land was lately overrun by Banyamwezi, who now inhabit that country, but as yet have no food to sell. Moanzabamba was the founder of the Babisa tribe, and used the curious plaits of hair which form such a singular head-dress here like large ears. I am rather in a difficulty, as I fear I must give the five coils for a much shorter task; but it is best not to appear unfair, although I will be the loser. He sent a man to catch a Sampa for me, it is the largest fish in the Lake, and he promised to have men ready to take my men over to-morrow. Matipa never heard from any of the elders of his people that any of his forefathers ever saw a European. He knew perfectly about Pereira, Lacerda, and Monteiro, going to Casembe, and my coming to the islet Mpabala. No trace seems to exist of Captain Singleton's march.[29]The native name of Pereira is "Moenda Mondo:" of Lacerda, "Charlie:" of Monteiro's party, "Makabalwé," or the donkey men, but no other name is heard. The following is a small snatch of Babisa lore. It was told by an old man who came to try for some beads, and seemed much interested about printing. He was asked if there were any marks made on the rocks in any part of the country, and this led to his story. Lukerenga came from the west a long time ago to the River Lualaba. He had with him a little dog. When he wanted to pass over he threw his mat on the water, and this served as a raft, and they crossed the stream. When he reached the other side there were rocks at the landing place, and the mark is still to be seen on the stone, not only of his foot, but of a stick which he cut with his hatchet, and of his dog's feet; the name of the place is Uchéwa.

4th March, 1873.—Sent canoes off to bring our men over tothe island of Matipa. They brought ten, but the donkey could not come as far through the "tinga-tinga" as they, so they took it back for fear that it should perish. I spoke to Matipa this morning to send more canoes, and he consented. We move outside, as the town swarms with mice, and is very closely built and disagreeable. I found mosquitoes in the town.

5th March, 1873.—Time runs on quickly. The real name of this island is Masumbo, and the position may be probably long. 31° 3'; lat. 10° 11' S. Men not arrived yet. Matipa very slow.

6th March, 1873.—Building a camp outside the town for quiet and cleanliness, and no mice to run over us at night. This islet is some twenty or thirty feet above the general flat country and adjacent water.

At 3 P.M. we moved up to the highest part of the island where we can see around us and have the fresh breeze from the Lake. Rainy as we went up, as usual.

7th March, 1873.—We expect our men to-day. I tremble for the donkey! Camp sweet and clean, but it, too, has mosquitoes, from which a curtain protects me completely—a great luxury, but unknown to the Arabs, to whom I have spoken about it. Abed was overjoyed by one I made for him; others are used to their bites, as was the man who said that he would get used to a nail through the heel of his shoe. The men came at 3 P.M., but eight had to remain, the canoes being too small. The donkey had to be tied down, as he rolled about on his legs and would have forced his way out. He bit Mabruki Speke's lame hand, and came in stiff from lying tied all day. We had him shampooed all over, but he could not eat dura—he feels sore. Susi did well under the circumstances, and we had plenty of flour ready for all. Chanza is near Kabinga, and this last chief is coming to visit me in a day or two.

8th March, 1873.—I press Matipa to get a fleet of canoes equalto our number, but he complains of their being stolen by rebel subjects. He tells me his brother Kabinga would have been here some days ago but for having lost a son, who was killed by an elephant: he is mourning for him but will come soon. Kabinga is on the other side of the Chambezé. A party of male and female drummers and dancers is sure to turn up at every village; the first here had a leader that used such violent antics perspiration ran off his whole frame. I gave a few strings of beads, and the performance is repeated to-day by another lot, but I rebel and allow them to dance unheeded. We got a sheep for a wonder for a doti; fowls and fish alone could be bought, but Kabinga has plenty of cattle.

Dr. Livingstone's Mosquito Curtain.Dr. Livingstone's Mosquito Curtain.

There is a species of carp with red ventral fin, which is caught and used in very large quantities: it is called "pumbo." The people dry it over fires as preserved provisions. Sampa is the largest fish in the Lake, it is caught by a hook. The Luéna goes into Bangweolo at Molandangao. A male Msobé had faint white stripes across the back and one well-marked yellow stripe along the spine. The hip had a few faint white spots, which showed by having longer hair than the rest; a kid of the same species had a white belly.

The eight men came from Motovinza this afternoon, and now all our party is united. The donkey shows many sores inflicted by the careless people, who think that force alone can be used to inferior animals.

11th March, 1873.—Matipa says "Wait; Kabinga is coming, and he has canoes." Time is of no value to him. His wife is making him pombe, and will drown all his cares, but mine increase and plague me. Matipa and his wife each sent me a huge calabash of pombe; I wanted only a little to make bread with.

By putting leaven in a bottle and keeping it from one baking to another (or three days) good bread is made, and the dough being surrounded by banana leaves or maize leaves (or even forest leaves of hard texture and no taste, or simply by broad leafy grass), is preserved from burning in an iron pot. The inside of the pot is greased, then the leaves put in all round, and the dough poured in to stand and rise in the sun.

Better news comes: the son of Kabinga is to be here to-night, and we shall concoct plans together.

12th March, 1873.—The news was false, no one came from Kabinga. The men strung beads to-day, and I wrote part of my despatch for Earl Granville.

13th March, 1873.—- I went to Matipa, and proposed to begin the embarkation of my men at once, as they are many, and the canoes are only sufficient to take a few at a time. He has sent off a big canoe to reap his millet, when it returns he will send us over to see for ourselves where we can go. I explained the danger of setting my men astray.

14th March, 1873.—Rains have ceased for a few days. Wentdown to Matipa and tried to take his likeness for the sake of the curious hat he wears.

15th March, 1873.—Finish my despatch so far.

16th March, 1873, Sunday.—Service. I spoke sharply to Matipa for his duplicity. He promises everything and does nothing: he has in fact no power over his people. Matipa says that a large canoe will come to-morrow, and next day men will go to Kabinga to reconnoitre. There may be a hitch there which we did not take into account; Kabinga's son, killed by an elephant, may have raised complications: blame may be attached to Matipa, and in their dark minds it may appear all important to settle the affair before having communication with him. Ill all day with my old complaint.

Matipa and his Wife.Matipa and his Wife.

17th March, 1873.—The delay is most trying. So many detentions have occurred they ought to have made me of a patient spirit.

As I thought, Matipa told us to-day that it is reported he has some Arabs with him who will attack all the Lake people forthwith, and he is anxious that we shall go over to show them that we are peaceful.

18th March, 1873.—Sent off men to reconnoitre at Kabinga's and to make a camp there. Rain began again after nine days' dry weather, N.W. wind, but in the morning fleecy clouds came from S.E. in patches. Matipa is acting the villain, and my men are afraid of him: they are all cowards, and say that they are afraid of me, but this is only an excuse for their cowardice.

19th March, 1873.—Thanks to the Almighty Preserver of men for sparing me thus far on the journey of life. Can I hope for ultimate success? So many obstacles have arisen. Let not Satan prevail over me, Oh! my good Lord Jesus.[30]

8 A.M. Got about twenty people off to canoes. Matipa not friendly. They go over to Kabinga on S.W. side of the Chambezé, and thence we go overland. 9 A.M. Men came back and reported Matipa false again; only one canoe had come. I made a demonstration by taking quiet possession of his village and house; fired a pistol through the roof and called my men, ten being left to guard the camp; Matipa fled to another village. The people sent off at once and brought three canoes, so at 11 A.M. my men embarked quietly. They go across the Chambezé and build a camp on its left bank. All Kabinga's cattle are kept on an island called Kalilo, near the mouth of the Chambezé, and are perfectly wild: they are driven into the water like buffaloes, and pursued when one is wanted for meat. No milk is ever obtained of course.

20th March, 1873.—Cold N.W. weather, but the rainfall is small,as the S.E. stratum comes down below the N.W. by day. Matipa sent two large baskets of flour (cassava), a sheep, and a cock. He hoped that we should remain with him till the water of the over-flood dried, and help him to fight his enemies, but I explained our delays, and our desire to complete our work and meet Baker.

21st March, 1873.—Very heavy N.W. rain and thunder by night, and by morning. I gave Matipa a coil of thick brass wire, and his wife a string of large neck beads, and explained my hurry to be off. He is now all fair, and promises largely: he has been much frightened by our warlike demonstration. I am glad I had to do nothing but make a show of force.

22nd March, 1873.—Susi not returned from Kabinga. I hope that he is getting canoes, and men also, to transport us all at one voyage. It is flood as far as the eye can reach; flood four and six feet deep, and more, with three species of rushes, two kinds of lotus, or sacred lily, papyrus, arum, &c. One does not know where land ends, and Lake begins: the presence of land-grass proves that this is not always overflowed.

23rd March, 1873.—Men returned at noon. Kabinga is mourning for his son killed by an elephant, and keeps in seclusion. The camp is formed on the left bank of the Chambezé.

24th March.—The people took the canoes away, but in fear sent for them. I got four, and started with all our goods, first giving a present that no blame should follow me. We punted six hours to a little islet without a tree, and no sooner did we land than a pitiless pelting rain came on. We turned up a canoe to get shelter. We shall reach the Chambezé to-morrow. The wind tore the tent out of our hands, and damaged it too; the loads are all soaked, and with the cold it is bitterly uncomfortable. A man put my bed into the bilge, and never said "Bale out," so I was for a wet night, but it turned out better than I expected. No grass, but we made a bed of the loads, and a blanket fortunately put into a bag.

25th March, 1873.—Nothing earthly will make me give up my work in despair. I encourage myself in the Lord my God, and go forward.

We got off from our miserably small islet of ten yards at 7 A.M., a grassy sea on all sides, with a few islets in the far distance. Four varieties of rushes around us, triangular and fluted, rise from eighteen inches to two feet above the water. The caterpillars seem to eat each other, and a web is made round others; the numerous spiders may have been the workmen of the nest. The wind on the rushes makes a sound like the waves of the sea. The flood extends out in slightly depressed arms of the Lake for twenty or thirty miles, and far too broad to be seen across; fish abound, and ant-hills alone lift up their heads; they have trees on them. Lukutu flows from E. to W. to the Chambezé, as does the Lubanseusi also. After another six hours' punting, over the same wearisome prairie or Bouga, we heard the merry voices of children. It was a large village, on a flat, which seems flooded at times, but much cassava is planted on mounds, made to protect the plants from the water, which stood in places in the village, but we got a dry spot for the tent. The people offered us huts. We had as usual a smart shower on the way to Kasenga, where we slept. We passed the Islet Luangwa.

26th March, 1873.—We started at 7.30, and got into a large stream out of the Chambezé, called Mabziwa. One canoe sank in it, and we lost a slave girl of Amoda. Fished up three boxes, and two guns, but the boxes being full of cartridges were much injured; we lost the donkey's saddle too. After this mishap we crossed the Lubanseusi, near its confluence with the Chambezé, 300 yards wide and three fathoms deep, and a slow current. We crossed the Chambezé. It is about 400 yards wide, with a quick clearcurrent of two knots, and three fathoms deep, like the Lubanseusé; but that was slow in current, but clear also. There is one great lock after another, with thick mats of hedges, formed of aquatic plants between. The volume of water is enormous. We punted five hours, and then camped.

27th March, 1873.—I sent canoes and men back to Matipa's to bring all the men that remained, telling them to ship them at once on arriving, and not to make any talk about it. Kabinga keeps his distance from us, and food is scarce; at noon he sent a man to salute me in his name.

28th March, 1873.—Making a pad for a donkey, to serve instead of a saddle. Kabinga attempts to sell a sheep at an exorbitant price, and says that he is weeping over his dead child. Mabruki Speke's hut caught fire at night, and his cartridge box was burned.

29th March, 1873.—I bought a sheep for 100 strings of beads. I wished to begin the exchange by being generous, and told his messenger so; then a small quantity of maize was brought, and I grumbled at the meanness of the present: there is no use in being bashful, as they are not ashamed to grumble too. The man said that Kabinga would send more when he had collected it.

30th March, 1873, Sunday.—A lion roars mightily. The fish-hawk utters his weird voice in the morning, as if he lifted up to a friend at a great distance, in a sort of falsetto key.

5 P.M. Men returned, but the large canoe having been broken by the donkey, we have to go back and pay for it, and take away about twenty men now left. Matipa kept all the payment from his own people, and so left us in the lurch; thus another five days is lost.

31st March, 1873.—I sent the men back to Matipa's for all our party. I give two dotis to repair the canoe. Islanders are always troublesome, from a sense of security in their fastnesses. Made stirrups of thick brass wire four-fold; they promise to do well. Sent Kabinga a cloth, and a message, but he is evidently a niggard, like Matipa: we must take him as we find him, there is no use in growling. Seven of our men returned, having got a canoe from one of Matipa's men. Kabinga, it seems, was pleased with the cloth, and says that he will ask for maize from his people, and buy it for me; he has rice growing. He will send a canoe to carry me over the next river.

3rd April, 1873.—Very heavy rain last night. Six inches fell in a short time. The men at last have come from Matipa's.

4th April, 1873.—Sent over to Kabinga to buy a cow, and got a fat one for 2-1/2 dotis, to give the party a feast ere we start. The kambari fish of the Chambezé is three feet three inches in length.

Two others, the "polwé" and "lopatakwao," all go up the Chambezé to spawn when the rains begin. Casembe's people make caviare of the spawn of the "pumbo."

[The next entry is made in a new pocket-book, numbered XVII. For the first few days pen and ink were used, afterwards a well-worn stump of pencil, stuck into a steel penholder and attached to a piece of bamboo, served his purpose.]

5th April, 1873.—March from Kabinga's on the Chambezé, our luggage in canoes, and men on land. We punted on flood six feet deep, with many ant-hills all about, covered with trees. Course S.S.E. for five miles, across the River Lobingela, sluggish, and about 300 yards wide.

6th April, 1873.—Leave in the same way, but men were sent from Kabinga to steal the canoes, which we paid his brother Mateysa handsomely for. A stupid drummer, beating the alarm in the distance, called us inland; we found the mainbody of our people had gone on, and so by this, our party got separated,[31]and we pulled and punted six or seven hours S.W. in great difficulty, as the fishermen we saw refused to show us where the deep water lay. The whole country S. of the Lake was covered with water, thickly dotted over with lotus-leaves and rushes. It has a greenish appearance, and it might be well on a map to show the spaces annually flooded by a broad wavy band, twenty, thirty, and even, forty miles out from the permanent banks of the Lake: it might be coloured light green. The broad estuaries fifty or more miles, into which the rivers form themselves, might be coloured blue, but it is quite impossible at present to tell where land ends, and Lake begins; it is all water, water everywhere, which seems to be kept from flowing quickly off by the narrow bed of the Luapula, which has perpendicular banks, worn deep down in new red sandstone. It is the Nile apparently enacting its inundations, even at its sources. The amount of water spread out over the country constantly excites my wonder; it is prodigious. Many of the ant-hills are cultivated and covered with dura, pumpkins, beans, maize, but the waters yield food plenteously in fish and lotus-roots. A species of wild rice grows, but the people neither need it nor know it. A party of fishermen fled from us, but by coaxing we got them to show us deep water. They then showed us an islet, about thirty yards square, without wood, and desired us to sleep there. We went on, and then they decamped.

Pitiless pelting showers wetted everything; but near sunset we saw two fishermen paddling quickly off from an ant-hill, where we found a hut, plenty of fish, and some firewood. There we spent the night, and watched by turns, lest thieves should come and haul away our canoes and goods.Heavy rain. One canoe sank, wetting everything in her. The leaks in her had been stopped with clay, and a man sleeping near the stern had displaced this frail caulking. We did not touch the fish, and I cannot conjecture who has inspired fear in all the inhabitants.

7th April, 1873.—Went on S.W., and saw two men, who guided us to the River Muanakazi, which forms a connecting link between the River Lotingila and the Lolotikila, about the southern borders of the flood. Men were hunting, and we passed near large herds of antelopes, which made a rushing, plunging sound as they ran and sprang away among the waters. A lion had wandered into this world of water and ant-hills, and roared night and morning, as if very much disgusted: we could sympathise with him! Near to the Muanakazi, at a broad bank in shallow water near the river, we had to unload and haul. Our guides left us, well pleased with the payment we had given them. The natives beating a drum on our east made us believe them to be our party, and some thought that they heard two shots. This misled us, and we went towards the sound through papyrus, tall rushes, arums, and grass, till tired out, and took refuge on an ant-hill for the night. Lion roaring. We were lost in stiff grassy prairies, from three to four feet deep in water, for five hours. We fired a gun in the stillness of the night, but received no answer; so on the8thwe sent a small canoe at daybreak to ask for information and guides from the village where the drums had been beaten. Two men came, and they thought likewise that our party was south-east; but in that direction the water was about fifteen inches in spots and three feet in others, which caused constant dragging of the large canoe all day, and at last we unloaded at another branch of the Muanakazi with a village of friendly people. We slept there.

All hands at the large canoe could move her only afew feet. Putting all their strength to her, she stopped at every haul with a jerk, as if in a bank of adhesive plaister. I measured the crown of a papyrus plant or palm, it was three feet across horizontally, its stalk eight feet in height. Hundreds of a large dark-grey hairy caterpillar have nearly cleared off the rushes in spots, and now live on each other. They can make only the smallest progress by swimming or rather wriggling in the water: their motion is that of a watch-spring thrown down, dilating and contracting.

9th April, 1873.—After two hours' threading the very winding, deep channel of this southern branch of the Muanakazi, we came to where our land party had crossed it and gone on to Gandochité, a chief on the Lolotikila. My men were all done up, so I hired a man to call some of his friends to take the loads; but he was stopped by his relations in the way, saying, "You ought to have one of the traveller's own people with you." He returned, but did not tell us plainly or truly till this morning.

[The recent heavy exertions, coupled with constant exposure and extreme anxiety and annoyance, no doubt brought on the severe attack which is noticed, as we see in the words of the next few days.]

10th April, 1873.—The headman of the village explained, and we sent two of our men, who had a night's rest with the turnagain fellow of yesterday. I am pale, bloodless, and; weak from bleeding profusely ever since the 31st of March last: an artery gives off a copious stream, and takes away my strength. Oh, how I long to be permitted by the Over Power to finish my work.

12th April, 1873.—Cross the Muanakazi. It is about 100 or 130 yards broad, and deep. Great loss ofaíµamade me so weak I could hardly walk, but tottered along nearly twohours, and then lay down quite done. Cooked coffee—our last—and went on, but in an hour I was compelled to lie down. Very unwilling to be carried, but on being pressed I allowed the men to help me along by relays to Chinama, where there is much cultivation. We camped in a garden of dura.

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