CHAPTER XI. -- THROUGH UKAWENDI, UVINZA, AND UHHA, TO UJIJI.

Happy auspices,--Ant-hills.--The water-shed of the Tanganika

Lion.--The king of Kasera.--The home of the lion and the

leopard.--A donkey frightens a leopard--Sublime scenes in

Kawendi,--Starvation imminent.--Amenities of travel in

Africa.--Black-mailers.--The stormy children of Uhha.--News

of a white man.--Energetic marches--Mionvu, chief of

tribute-takers.--An escape at midnight.--Toiling through the

jungles.--The Lake Mountains.--First view of the Tanganika.--

Arrival at Ujiji,--The happy meeting with Livingstone.

We bade farewell to Mrera on the 17th of October, to continue our route

north-westward. All the men and I were firm friends now; all squabbling

had long ceased. Bombay and I had forgotten our quarrel; the kirangozi

and myself were ready to embrace, so loving and affectionate were the

terms upon which we stood towards one another. Confidence returned to

all hearts--for now, as Mabruk Unyanyembe said, "we could smell the fish

of the Tanganika." Unyanyembe, with all its disquietude, was far behind.

We could snap our fingers at that terrible Mirambo and his unscrupulous

followers, and by-and-by, perhaps, we may be able to laugh at the timid

seer who always prophesied portentous events--Sheikh, the son of Nasib.

We laughed joyously, as we glided in Indian file through the young

forest jungle beyond the clearing of Mrera, and boasted of our prowess.

Oh! we were truly brave that morning!

Emerging from the jungle, we entered a thin forest, where numerous

ant-hills were seen like so many sand-dunes. I imagine that these

ant-hills were formed during a remarkably wet season, when, possibly,

the forest-clad plain was inundated. I have seen the ants at work

by thousands, engaged in the work of erecting their hills in other

districts suffering from inundation. What a wonderful system of cells

these tiny insects construct! A perfect labyrinth--cell within cell,

room within room, hall within hall--an exhibition of engineering talents

and high architectural capacity--a model city, cunningly contrived for

safety and comfort!

Emerging after a short hour's march out of the forest, we welcome the

sight of a murmuring translucent stream, swiftly flowing towards the

north-west, which we regard with the pleasure which only men who have

for a long time sickened themselves with that potable liquid of the

foulest kind, found in salinas, mbugas, pools, and puddle holes, can

realize. Beyond this stream rises a rugged and steep ridge, from the

summit of which our eyes are gladdened with scenes that are romantic,

animated and picturesque. They form an unusual feast to eyes sated with

looking into the depths of forests, at towering stems of trees, and at

tufted crowns of foliage. We have now before us scores of cones, dotting

the surface of a plain which extends across Southern Ukonongo to the

territory of the Wafipa, and which reaches as far as the Rikwa Plain.

The immense prospect before which we are suddenly ushered is most

varied; exclusive of conical hills and ambitious flat-topped and

isolated mountains, we are in view of the watersheds of the Rungwa

River, which empties into the Tanganika south of where we stand, and of

the Malagarazi River, which the Tanganika receives, a degree or so north

of this position. A single but lengthy latitudinal ridge serves as a

dividing line to the watershed of the Rungwa and Malagarazi; and a score

of miles or so further west of this ridge rises another, which runs

north and south.

We camped on this day in the jungle, close to a narrow ravine with a

marshy bottom, through the oozy, miry contents of which the waters from

the watershed of the Rungwa slowly trickled southward towards the Rikwa

Plain. This was only one of many ravines, however, some of which were

several hundred yards broad, others were but a few yards in width, the

bottoms of which were most dangerous quagmires, overgrown with dense

tall reeds and papyrus. Over the surface of these great depths of mud

were seen hundreds of thin threads of slimy ochre-coloured water, which

swarmed with animalculae. By-and-by, a few miles south of the base

of this ridge (which I call Kasera, from the country which it cuts in

halves), these several ravines converge and debouch into the

broad, [marshy?], oozy, spongy "river" of Usense, which trends in a

south-easterly direction; after which, gathering the contents of the

watercourses from the north and northeast into its own broader channel,

it soon becomes a stream of some breadth and consequence, and meets a

river flowing from the east, from the direction of Urori, with which it

conflows in the Rikwa Plain, and empties about sixty rectilineal miles

further west into the Tanganika Lake. The Rungwa River, I am informed,

is considered as a boundary line between the country of Usowa on the

north, and Ufipa on the south.

We had barely completed the construction of our camp defences when

some of the men were heard challenging a small party of natives which

advanced towards our camp, headed by a man who, from his garb and

head-dress, we knew was from Zanzibar. After interchanging the customary

salutations, I was informed that this party was an embassy from Simba

("Lion"), who ruled over Kasera, in Southern Unyamwezi. Simba, I was

told, was the son of Mkasiwa, King of Unyanyembe, and was carrying on

war with the Wazavira, of whom I was warned to beware. He had heard such

reports of my greatness that he was sorry I did not take his road to

Ukawendi, that he might have had the opportunity of seeing me, and

making friends with me; but in the absence of a personal visit Simba had

sent this embassy to overtake me, in the hope that I would present him

with a token of my friendship in the shape of cloth. Though I was rather

taken aback by the demand, still it was politic in me to make this

powerful chief my friend, lest on my return from the search after

Livingstone he and I might fall out. And since it was incumbent on me

to make a present, for the sake of peace, it was necessary to exhibit

my desire for peace by giving--if I gave at all--a royal present. The

ambassador conveyed from me to Simba, or the "Lion" of Kasera, two

gorgeous cloths, and two other doti consisting of Merikani and Kaniki;

and, if I might believe the ambassador, I had made Simba a friend for

ever.

On the 18th of October, breaking camp at the usual hour, we continued

our march north-westward by a road which zig-zagged along the base of

the Kasera mountains, and which took us into all kinds of difficulties.

We traversed at least a dozen marshy ravines, the depth of mire and

water in which caused the utmost anxiety. I sunk up to my neck in deep

holes in the Stygian ooze caused by elephants, and had to tramp through

the oozy beds of the Rungwa sources with any clothes wet and black with

mud and slime. Decency forbade that I should strip; and the hot sun

would also blister my body. Moreover, these morasses were too frequent

to lose time in undressing and dressing, and, as each man was weighted

with his own proper load, it would have been cruel to compel the men

to bear me across. Nothing remained, therefore, but to march on, all

encumbered as I was with my clothing and accoutrements, into these

several marshy watercourses, with all the philosophical stoicism that my

nature could muster for such emergencies. But it was very uncomfortable,

to say the least of it.

We soon entered the territory of the dreaded Wazavira, but no enemy was

in sight. Simba, in his wars, had made clean work of the northern

part of Uzavira, and we encountered nothing worse than a view of the

desolated country, which must have been once--judging from the number

of burnt huts and debris of ruined villages--extremely populous. A young

jungle was sprouting up vigorously in their fields, and was rapidly

becoming the home of wild denizens of the forest. In one of the deserted

and ruined villages, I found quarters for the Expedition, which were

by no means uncomfortable. I shot three brace of guinea-fowl in the

neighbourhood of Misonghi, the deserted village we occupied, and

Ulimengo, one of my hunters, bagged an antelope, called the "mbawala,"

for whose meat some of the Wanyamwezi have a superstitious aversion. I

take this species of antelope, which stands about three and a half

feet high, of a reddish hide, head long, horns short, to be the "Nzoe"

antelope discovered by Speke in Uganda, and whose Latin designation

is, according to Dr. Sclater, "Tragelaphus Spekii." It has a short bushy

tail, and long hair along the spine.

A long march in a west-by-north direction, lasting six hours, through

a forest where the sable antelope was seen, and which was otherwise

prolific with game, brought us to a stream which ran by the base of

a lofty conical hill, on whose slopes flourished quite a forest of

feathery bamboo.

On the 20th, leaving our camp, which lay between the stream and the

conical hill above mentioned, and surmounting a low ridge which sloped

from the base of the hill-cone, we were greeted with another picturesque

view, of cones and scarped mountains, which heaved upward in all

directions. A march of nearly five hours through this picturesque

country brought us to the Mpokwa River, one of the tributaries of the

Rungwa, and to a village lately deserted by the Wazavira. The huts

were almost all intact, precisely as they were left by their former

inhabitants. In the gardens were yet found vegetables, which, after

living so long on meat, were most grateful to us. On the branches of

trees still rested the Lares and Penates of the Wazavira, in the shape

of large and exceedingly well-made earthen pots.

In the neighbouring river one of my men succeeded, in few minutes, in

catching sixty fish of the silurus species the hand alone. A number of

birds hovered about stream, such as the white-headed fish-eagle and the

kingfisher, enormous, snowy spoonbills, ibis, martins, &c. This river

issued from a mountain clump eight miles or so north of the village

of Mpokwa, and comes flowing down a narrow thread of water, sinuously

winding amongst tall reeds and dense brakes on either side-the home

of hundreds of antelopes and buffaloes. South of Mpokwa, the valley

broadens, and the mountains deflect eastward and westward, and beyond

this point commences the plain known as the Rikwa, which, during the

Masika is inundated, but which, in the dry season, presents the same

bleached aspect that plains in Africa generally do when the grass has

ripened.

Travelling up along the right bank of the Mpokwa, on the 21st we came

to the head of the stream, and the sources of the Mpokwa, issuing out of

deep defiles enclosed by lofty ranges. The mbawala and the buffalo were

plentiful.

On the 22nd, after a march of four hours and a half, we came to the

beautiful stream of Mtambu--the water of which was sweet, and clear as

crystal, and flowed northward. We saw for the first time the home of the

lion and the leopard. Hear what Freiligrath says of the place:

Where the thorny brake and thicket

Densely fill the interspace

Of the trees, through whose thick branches

Never sunshine lights the place,

There the lion dwells, a monarch,

Mightiest among the brutes;

There his right to reign supremest

Never one his claim disputes.

There he layeth down to slumber,

Having slain and ta'en his fill;

There he roameth, there be croucheth,

As it suits his lordly will.

We camped but a few yards from just such a place as the poet describes.

The herd-keeper who attended the goats and donkeys, soon after our

arrival in camp, drove the animals to water, and in order to obtain it

they travelled through a tunnel in the brake, caused by elephants and

rhinoceros. They had barely entered the dark cavernous passage, when a

black-spotted leopard sprang, and fastened its fangs in the neck of

one of the donkeys, causing it, from the pain, to bray hideously. Its

companions set up such a frightful chorus, and so lashed their heels in

the air at the feline marauder, that the leopard bounded away through

the brake, as if in sheer dismay at the noisy cries which the attack

had provoked. The donkey's neck exhibited some frightful wounds, but the

animal was not dangerously hurt.

Thinking that possibly I might meet with an adventure with a lion or a

leopard in that dark belt of tall trees, under whose impenetrable

shade grew the dense thicket that formed such admirable coverts for the

carnivorous species, I took a stroll along the awesome place with

the gunbearer, Kalulu, carrying an extra gun, and a further supply of

ammunition. We crept cautiously along, looking keenly into the deep

dark dens, the entrances of which were revealed to us, as we journeyed,

expectant every moment to behold the reputed monarch of the brake and

thicket, bound forward to meet us, and I took a special delight in

picturing, in my imagination, the splendor and majesty of the wrathful

brute, as he might stand before me. I peered closely into every dark

opening, hoping to see the deadly glitter of the great angry eyes, and

the glowering menacing front of the lion as he would regard me. But,

alas! after an hour's search for adventure, I had encountered nothing,

and I accordingly waxed courageous, and crept into one of these leafy,

thorny caverns, and found myself shortly standing under a canopy of

foliage that was held above my head fully a hundred feet by the shapely

and towering stems of the royal mvule. Who can imagine the position? A

smooth lawn-like glade; a dense and awful growth of impenetrable jungle

around us; those stately natural pillars--a glorious phalanx of royal

trees, bearing at such sublime heights vivid green masses of foliage,

through which no single sun-ray penetrated, while at our feet babbled

the primeval brook, over smooth pebbles, in soft tones befitting the

sacred quiet of the scene! Who could have desecrated this solemn, holy

harmony of nature? But just as I was thinking it impossible that any man

could be tempted to disturb the serene solitude of the place, I saw

a monkey perched high on a branch over my head, contemplating, with

something of an awe-struck look, the strange intruders beneath. Well, I

could not help it, I laughed--laughed loud and long, until I was hushed

by the chaos of cries and strange noises which seemed to respond to my

laughing. A troop of monkeys, hidden in the leafy depths above, had been

rudely awakened, and, startled by the noise I made, were hurrying away

from the scene with a dreadful clamor of cries and shrieks.

Emerging again into the broad sunlight, I strolled further in search

of something to shoot. Presently, I saw, feeding quietly in the

forest which bounded the valley of the Mtambu on the left, a huge,

reddish-coloured wild boar, armed with most horrid tusks. Leaving Kalulu

crouched down behind a tree, and my solar helmet behind another close

by--that I might more safely stalk the animal--I advanced towards him

some forty yards, and after taking a deliberate aim, fired at his fore

shoulder. As if nothing had hurt him whatever, the animal made a furious

bound, and then stood with his bristles erected, and tufted tail, curved

over the back--a most formidable brute in appearance. While he was thus

listening, and searching the neighbourhood with his keen, small eyes,

I planted another shot in his chest, which ploughed its way through his

body. Instead of falling, however, as I expected he would, he charged

furiously in the direction the bullet had come, and as he rushed past

me, another ball was fired, which went right through him; but still he

kept on, until, within six or seven yards from the trees behind which

Kalulu was crouching down on one side, and the helmet was resting behind

another, he suddenly halted, and then dropped. But as I was about to

advance on him with my knife to cut his throat, he suddenly started

up; his eyes had caught sight of the little boy Kalulu, and were then,

almost immediately afterwards, attracted by the sight of the snowy

helmet. These strange objects on either side of him proved too much for

the boar, for, with a terrific grunt, he darted on one side into a

thick brake, from which it was impossible to oust him, and as it was now

getting late, and the camp was about three miles away, I was reluctantly

obliged to return without the meat.

On our way to camp we were accompanied by a large animal which

persistently followed us on our left. It was too dark to see plainly,

but a large form was visible, if not very clearly defined. It must have

been a lion, unless it was the ghost of the dead boar.

That night, about 11 P.M., we were startled by the roar of a lion, in

close proximity to the camp. Soon it was joined by another, and another

still, and the novelty of the thing kept me awake. I peered through

the gate of the camp, and endeavoured to sight a rifle--my little

Winchester, in the accuracy of which I had perfect confidence; but,

alas! for the cartridges, they might have been as well filled with

sawdust for all the benefit I derived from them. Disgusted with the

miserable ammunition, I left the lions alone, and turned in, with their

roaring as a lullaby.

That terrestrial paradise for the hunter, the valley of the pellucid

Mtambu, was deserted by us the next morning for the settlement commonly

known to the Wakawendi as Imrera's, with as much unconcern as though

it were a howling desert. The village near which we encamped was called

Itaga, in the district of Rusawa. As soon as we had crossed the River

Mtambu we had entered Ukawendi, commonly called "Kawendi" by the natives

of the country.

The district of Rusawa is thickly populated. The people are quiet and

well-disposed to strangers, though few ever come to this region from

afar. One or two Wasawahili traders visit it every year or so from

Pumburu and Usowa; but very little ivory being obtained from the people,

the long distance between the settlements serves to deter the regular

trader from venturing hither.

If caravans arrive here, the objective point to them is the district

of Pumburu, situated south-westerly one day's good marching, or,

say, thirty statute miles from Imrera; or they make for Usowa, on the

Tanganika, via Pumburu, Katuma, Uyombeh, and Ugarawah. Usowa is quite an

important district on the Tanganika, populous and flourishing. This was

the road we had intended to adopt after leaving Imrera, but the reports

received at the latter place forbade such a venture. For Mapunda, the

Sultan of Usowa, though a great friend to Arab traders, was at war with

the colony of the Wazavira, who we must remember were driven from

Mpokwa and vicinity in Utanda, and who were said to have settled between

Pumburu and Usowa.

It remained for us, like wise, prudent men, having charge of a large and

valuable Expedition on our hands, to decide what to do, and what route

to adopt, now that we had approached much nearer to Ujiji than we were

to Unyanyembe. I suggested that we should make direct for the Tanganika

by compass, trusting to no road or guide, but to march direct west until

we came to the Tanganika, and then follow the lake shore on foot until

we came to Ujiji. For it ever haunted my mind, that, if Dr. Livingstone

should hear of my coming, which he might possibly do if I travelled

along any known road, he would leave, and that my search for him would

consequently be a "stern chase." But my principal men thought it better

that we should now boldly turn our faces north, and march for the

Malagarazi, which was said to be a large river flowing from the east

to the Tanganika. But none of my men knew the road to the Malagarazi,

neither could guides be hired from Sultan Imrera. We were, however,

informed that the Malagarazi was but two days' march from Imrera. I

thought it safe, in such a case, to provision my men with three days'

rations. The village of Itaga is situated in a deep mountain hollow,

finely overlooking a large extent of cultivation. The people grow sweet

potatoes, manioc--out of which tapioca is made--beans, and the holcus.

Not one chicken could be purchased for love or money, and, besides

grain, only a lean, scraggy specimen of a goat, a long time ago imported

form Uvinza, was procurable.

October the 25th will be remembered by me as a day of great troubles; in

fact, a series of troubles began from this date. We struck an easterly

road in order to obtain a passage to the lofty plateau which bounded the

valley of Imrera on the west and on the north. We camped, after a two

and a half hours' march, at its foot. The defile promised a feasible

means of ascent to the summit of the plateau, which rose upward in a

series of scarps a thousand feet above the valley of Imrera.

While ascending that lofty arc of mountains which bounded westerly

and northerly the basin of Imrera, extensive prospects southward and

eastward were revealed. The character of the scenery at Ukawendi is

always animated and picturesque, but never sublime. The folds of this

ridge contained several ruins of bomas, which seemed to have been

erected during war time.

The mbemba fruit was plentiful along this march, and every few minutes I

could see from the rear one or two men hastening to secure a treasure of

it which they discovered on the ground.

A little before reaching the camp I had a shot at a leopard, but failed

to bring him down as he bounded away. At night the lions roared as at

the Mtambu River.

A lengthy march under the deep twilight shadows of a great forest, which

protected us from the hot sunbeams, brought us, on the next day, to a

camp newly constructed by a party of Arabs from Ujiji, who had advanced

thus far on their road to Unyanyembe, but, alarmed at the reports of the

war between Mirambo and the Arabs, had returned. Our route was along the

right bank of the Rugufu, a broad sluggish stream, well choked with

the matete reeds and the papyrus. The tracks and the bois de vaches

of buffaloes were numerous, and there were several indications of

rhinoceros being near. In a deep clump of timber near this river we

discovered a colony of bearded and leonine-looking monkeys.

As we were about leaving our camp on the morning of the 28th a herd of

buffalo walked deliberately into view. Silence was quickly restored,

but not before the animals, to their great surprise, had discovered the

danger which confronted them. We commenced stalking them, but we soon

heard the thundering sound of their gallop, after which it becomes a

useless task to follow them, with a long march in a wilderness before

one.

The road led on this day over immense sheets of sandstone and iron ore.

The water was abominable, and scarce, and famine began to stare us

in the face. We travelled for six hours, and had yet seen no sign of

cultivation anywhere. According to my map we were yet two long marches

from the Malagarazi--if Captain Burton had correctly laid down the

position of the river; according to the natives' account, we should have

arrived at the Malagarazi on this day.

On the 29th we left our camp, and after a few minutes, we were in view

of the sublimest, but ruggedest, scenes we had yet beheld in Africa. The

country was cut up in all directions by deep, wild, and narrow ravines

trending in all directions, but generally toward the north-west, while

on either side rose enormous square masses of naked rock (sandstone),

sometimes towering, and rounded, sometimes pyramidal, sometimes in

truncated cones, sometimes in circular ridges, with sharp, rugged, naked

backs, with but little vegetation anywhere visible, except it obtained

a precarious tenure in the fissured crown of some gigantic hill-top,

whither some soil had fallen, or at the base of the reddish ochre scarps

which everywhere lifted their fronts to our view.

A long series of descents down rocky gullies, wherein we were environed

by threatening masses of disintegrated rock, brought us to a dry, stony

ravine, with mountain heights looming above us a thousand feet high.

This ravine we followed, winding around in all directions, but which

gradually widened, however, into a broad plain, with a western trend.

The road, leaving this, struck across a low ridge to the north; and we

were in view of deserted settlements where the villages were built on

frowning castellated masses of rock. Near an upright mass of rock over

seventy feet high, and about fifty yards in diameter, which dwarfed the

gigantic sycamore close to it, we made our camp, after five hours and

thirty minutes' continuous and rapid marching.

The people were very hungry; they had eaten every scrap of meat, and

every grain they possessed, twenty hours before, and there was no

immediate prospect of food. I had but a pound and a half of flour

left, and this would not have sufficed to begin to feed a force of over

forty-five people; but I had something like thirty pounds of tea, and

twenty pounds of sugar left, and I at once, as soon as we arrived at

camp, ordered every kettle to be filled and placed on the fire, and then

made tea for all; giving each man a quart of a hot, grateful beverage;

well sweetened. Parties stole out also into the depths: of the jungle

to search for wild fruit, and soon returned laden with baskets of the

wood-peach and tamarind fruit, which though it did not satisfy, relieved

them. That night, before going to sleep, the Wangwana set up a loud

prayer to "Allah" to give them food.

We rose betimes in the morning, determined to travel on until food

could be procured, or we dropped down from sheer fatigue and weakness.

Rhinoceros' tracks abounded, and buffalo seemed to be plentiful, but

we never beheld a living thing. We crossed scores of short steeps,

and descended as often into the depths of dry, stony gullies, and then

finally entered a valley, bounded on one side by a triangular mountain

with perpendicular sides, and on the other by a bold group, a triplet

of hills. While marching down this valley--which soon changed its dry,

bleached aspect to a vivid green--we saw a forest in the distance, and

shortly found ourselves in corn-fields. Looking keenly around for a

village, we descried it on the summit of the lofty triangular hill on

our right. A loud exultant shout was raised at the discovery. The men

threw down their packs, and began to clamour for food. Volunteers were

asked to come forward to take cloth, and scale the heights to obtain

it from the village, at any price. While three or four sallied off we

rested on the ground, quite worn out. In about an hour the foraging

party returned with the glorious tidings that food was plentiful;

that the village we saw was called, "Welled Nzogera's"--the son of

Nzogera--by which, of course, we knew that we were in Uvinza, Nzogera

being the principal chief in Uvinza. We were further informed that

Nzogera, the father, was at war with Lokanda-Mire, about some salt-pans

in the valley of the Malagarazi, and that it would be difficult to go

to Ujiji by the usual road, owing to this war; but, for a consideration,

the son of Nzogera was willing to supply us with guides, who would take

us safely, by a northern road, to Ujiji.

Everything auguring well for our prospects, we encamped to enjoy the

good cheer, for which our troubles and privations, during the transit of

the Ukawendi forests and jungles, had well prepared us.

I am now going to extract from my Diary of the march, as, without its

aid, I deem it impossible to relate fully our various experiences, so as

to show them properly as they occurred to us; and as these extracts

were written and recorded at the close of each day, they possess more

interest, in my opinion, than a cold relation of facts, now toned down

in memory.

October 31st. Tuesday.--Our road led E.N.E. for a considerable time

after leaving the base of the triangular mountain whereon the son of

Nzogera has established his stronghold, in order to avoid a deep and

impassable portion of marsh, that stood between us and the direct route

to the Malagarazi River. The valley sloped rapidly to this marsh, which

received in its broad bosom the drainage of three extensive ranges. Soon

we turned our faces northwest, and prepared to cross the marsh; and

the guides informed us, as we halted on its eastern bank, of a terrible

catastrophe which occurred a few yards above where we were preparing to

cross. They told of an Arab and his caravan, consisting of thirty-five

slaves, who had suddenly sunk out of sight, and who were never more

heard of. This marsh, as it appeared to us, presented a breadth of some

hundreds of yards, on which grew a close network of grass, with much

decayed matter mixed up with it. In the centre of this, and underneath

it, ran a broad, deep, and rapid stream. As the guides proceeded across,

the men stole after them with cautious footsteps. As they arrived near

the centre we began to see this unstable grassy bridge, so curiously

provided by nature for us, move up and down in heavy languid

undulations, like the swell of the sea after a storm. Where the two

asses of the Expedition moved, the grassy waves rose a foot high; but

suddenly one unfortunate animal plunged his feet through, and as he was

unable to rise, he soon made a deep hollow, which was rapidly filling

with water. With the aid of ten men, however, we were enabled to lift

him bodily up and land him on a firmer part, and guiding them both

across rapidly, the entire caravan crossed without accident.

On arriving at the other side, we struck off to the north, and

found ourselves in a delightful country, in every way suitable for

agriculturists. Great rocks rose here and there, but in their fissures

rose stately trees, under whose umbrage nestled the villages of the

people. We found the various village elders greedy for cloth, but the

presence of the younger son of Nzogera's men restrained their propensity

for extortion. Goats and sheep were remarkably cheap, and in good

condition; and, consequently, to celebrate our arrival near the

Malagarazi, a flock of eight goats was slaughtered, and distributed to

the men.

November 1st.--Striking north-west, after leaving our camp, and

descending the slope of a mountain, we soon beheld the anxiously

looked-for Malagarazi, a narrow but deep stream, flowing through a

valley pent in by lofty mountains. Fish-eating birds lined the trees on

its banks; villages were thickly scattered about. Food was abundant and

cheap.

After travelling along the left bank of the river a few miles, we

arrived at the settlements recognizing Kiala as their ruler. I

had anticipated we should be able at once to cross the river, but

difficulties arose. We were told to camp, before any negotiations could

be entered into. When we demurred, we were informed we might cross the

river if we wished, but we should not be assisted by any Mvinza.

Being compelled to halt for this day, the tent was pitched in the middle

of one of the villages, and the bales were stored in one of the huts,

with four soldiers to guard them. After despatching an embassy to Kiala,

eldest son of the great chief Nzogera, to request permission to cross

the river as a peaceable caravan, Kiala sent word that the white man

should cross his river after the payment of fifty-six cloths! Fifty-six

cloths signified a bale nearly!

Here was another opportunity for diplomacy. Bombay and Asmani were

empowered to treat with Kiala about the honga, but it was not to exceed

twenty-five doti. At 6 A.M., having spoken for seven hours, the two men

returned, with the demand for thirteen doti for Nzogera, and ten doti

for Kiala. Poor Bombay was hoarse, but Asmani still smiled; and I

relented, congratulating myself that the preposterous demand, which was

simply robbery, was no worse.

Three hours later another demand was made. Kiala had been visited by a

couple of chiefs from his father; and the chiefs being told that a white

man was at the ferry, put in a claim for a couple of guns and a keg of

gunpowder. But here my patience was exhausted, and I declared that

they should have to take them by force, for I would never consent to be

robbed and despoiled after any such fashion.

Until 11 P.M., Bombay and Asmani were negotiating about this extra

demand, arguing, quarreling, threatening, until Bombay declared they

would talk him mad if it lasted much longer. I told Bombay to take two

cloths, one for each chief, and, if they did not consider it enough,

then I should fight. The present was taken, and the negotiations were

terminated at midnight.

November 2nd.--Ihata Island, one and a half hour west of Kiala's. We

arrived before the Island of Ihata, on the left bank of the Malagarazi,

at 5 p.m.; the morning having been wasted in puerile talk with the owner

of the canoes at the ferry. The final demand for ferriage across was

eight yards of cloth and four fundo* of sami-sami, or red beads; which

was at once paid. Four men, with their loads, were permitted to cross in

the small, unshapely, and cranky canoes. When the boatmen had discharged

their canoes of their passengers and cargoes, they were ordered to halt

on the other side, and, to my astonishment, another demand was made. The

ferrymen had found that two fundo of these were of short measure, and

two fundo more must be paid, otherwise the contract for ferrying us

across would be considered null and void. So two fundo more were

added, but not without demur and much "talk," which in these lands is

necessary.

** 4 fundo == 40 necklaces; 1 fundo being 10 necklaces.

Three times the canoes went backwards and forwards, when, lo! another

demand was made, with the usual clamour and fierce wordy dispute; this

time for five khete # for the man who guided us to the ferry, a shukka

of cloth for a babbler, who had attached himself to the old-womanish

Jumah, who did nothing but babble and increase the clamor. These demands

were also settled.

# Necklaces.

About sunset we endeavoured to cross the donkeys. "Simba," a fine wild

Kinyamwezi donkey, went in first, with a rope attached to his neck.

He had arrived at the middle of the stream when we saw him begin to

struggle--a crocodile had seized him by the throat. The poor animal's

struggles were terrific. Chowpereh was dragging on the rope with all his

might, but to no use, for the donkey sank, and we saw no more of him.

The depth of the river at this place was about fifteen feet. We had

seen the light-brown heads, the glittering eyes, and the ridgy backs,

hovering about the vicinity, but we had never thought that the reptiles

would advance so near such an exciting scene as the vicinity of the

ferry presented during the crossing. Saddened a little by this loss, we

resumed our work, and by 7 P.M. we were all across, excepting Bombay and

the only donkey now left, which was to be brought across in the morning,

when the crocodiles should have deserted the river.

November 3rd.--What contention have we not been a witness to these last

three days! What anxiety have we not suffered ever since our arrival in

Uvinza! The Wavinza are worse than the Wagogo, and their greed is

more insatiable. We got the donkey across with the aid of a mganga, or

medicine man, who spat some chewed leaves of a tree which grows close

to the stream over him. He informed me he could cross the river at any

time, day or night, after rubbing his body with these chewed leaves,

which he believed to be a most potent medicine.

About 10 A.M. appeared from the direction of Ujiji a caravan of eighty

Waguhha, a tribe which occupies a tract of country on the south-western

side of the Lake Tanganika. We asked the news, and were told a white man

had just arrived at Ujiji from Manyuema. This news startled us all.

"A white man?" we asked.

"Yes, a white man," they replied.

"How is he dressed?"

"Like the master," they answered, referring to me.

"Is he young, or old?"

"He is old. He has white hair on his face, and is sick."

"Where has he come from?"

"From a very far country away beyond Uguhha, called Manyuema."

"Indeed! and is he stopping at Ujiji now?"

"Yes, we saw him about eight days ago."

"Do you think he will stop there until we see him?"

"Sigue" (don't know).

"Was he ever at Ujiji before?"

"Yes, he went away a long time ago."

Hurrah! This is Livingstone! He must be Livingstone! He can be no other;

but still;--he may be some one else--some one from the West Coast--or

perhaps he is Baker! No; Baker has no white hair on his face. But we

must now march quick, lest he hears we are coming, and runs away.

I addressed my men, and asked them if they were willing to march to

Ujiji without a single halt, and then promised them, if they acceded to

my wishes, two doti each man. All answered in the affirmative, almost as

much rejoiced as I was myself. But I was madly rejoiced; intensely eager

to resolve the burning question, "Is it Dr. David Livingstone?" God

grant me patience, but I do wish there was a railroad, or, at least,

horses in this country.

We set out at once from the banks of the Malagarazi, accompanied by two

guides furnished us by Usenge, the old man of the ferry, who, now that

we had crossed, showed himself more amiably disposed to us. We arrived

at the village of Isinga, Sultan Katalambula, after a little over an

hour's march across a saline plain, but which as we advanced into the

interior became fertile and productive.

November 4th.--Started early with great caution, maintaining deep

silence. The guides were sent forward, one two hundred yards ahead of

the other, that we might be warned in time. The first part of the march

was through a thin jungle of dwarf trees, which got thinner and thinner

until finally it vanished altogether, and we had entered Uhha--a plain

country. Villages were visible by the score among the tall bleached

stalks of dourra and maize. Sometimes three, sometimes five, ten, or

twenty beehive-shaped huts formed a village. The Wahha were evidently

living in perfect security, for not one village amongst them all was

surrounded with the customary defence of an African village. A narrow

dry ditch formed the only boundary between Uhha and Uvinza. On entering

Uhha, all danger from Makumbi vanished.

We halted at Kawanga, the chief of which lost no time in making us

understand that he was the great Mutware of Kimenyi under the king, and

that he was the tribute gatherer for his Kiha majesty. He declared that

he was the only one in Kimenyi--an eastern division of Uhha--who could

demand tribute; and that it would be very satisfactory to him, and a

saving of trouble to ourselves, if we settled his claim of twelve doti

of good cloths at once. We did not think it the best way of proceeding,

knowing as we did the character of the native African; so we at once

proceeded to diminish this demand; but, after six hours' hot argument,

the Mutware only reduced it by two. This claim was then settled, upon

the understanding that we should be allowed to travel through Uhha as

far as the Rusugi River without being further mulcted.

November 5th.--Leaving Kawanga early in the morning and continuing our

march over the boundless plains, which were bleached white by the hot

equatorial sun, we were marching westward full of pleasant anticipations

that we were nearing the end of our troubles, joyfully congratulating

ourselves that within five days we should see that which I had come so

far from civilisation, and through so many difficulties, to see, and

were about passing a cluster of villages, with all the confidence which

men possess against whom no one had further claim or a word to say, when

I noticed two men darting from a group of natives who were watching

us, and running towards the head of the Expedition, with the object,

evidently, of preventing further progress.

The caravan stopped, and I walked forward to ascertain the cause from

the two natives. I was greeted politely by the two Wahha with the

usual "Yambos," and was then asked, "Why does the white man pass by the

village of the King of Uhha without salutation and a gift? Does not

the white man know there lives a king in Uhha, to whom the Wangwana and

Arabs pay something for right of passage?"

"Why, we paid last night to the chief of Kawanga, who informed us that

he was the man deputed by the King of Uhha to collect the toll."

"How much did you pay?"

"Ten doti of good cloth."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure. If you ask him, he will tell you so."

"Well," said one of the Wahha, a fine, handsome, intelligent-looking

youth, "it is our duty to the king to halt you here until we find out

the truth of this. Will you walk to our village, and rest yourselves

under the shade of our trees until we can send messengers to Kawanga?"

"No; the sun is but an hour high, and we have far to travel; but, in

order to show you we do not seek to pass through your country without

doing that which is right, we will rest where we now stand, and we will

send with your messengers two of our soldiers, who will show you the man

to whom we paid the cloth."

The messengers departed; but, in the meantime, the handsome youth, who

turned out to be the nephew of the King, whispered some order to a lad,

who immediately hastened away, with the speed of an antelope, to the

cluster of villages which we had just passed. The result of this errand,

as we saw in a short time, was the approach of a body of warriors, about

fifty in number, headed by a tall, fine-looking man, who was dressed in

a crimson robe called Joho, two ends of which were tied in a knot over

the left shoulder; a new piece of American sheeting was folded like a

turban around his head, and a large curved piece of polished ivory was

suspended to his neck. He and his people were all armed with spears, and

bows and arrows, and their advance was marked with a deliberation that

showed they felt confidence in any issue that might transpire.

We were halted on the eastern side of the Pombwe stream, near the

village of Lukomo, in Kimenyi, Uhha. The gorgeously-dressed chief was

a remarkable man in appearance. His face was oval in form, high

cheek-bones, eyes deeply sunk, a prominent and bold forehead, a fine

nose, and a well-cut mouth; he was tall in figure, and perfectly

symmetrical.

When near to us, he hailed me with the words,

"Yambo, bana?--How do you do, master?" in quite a cordial tone.

I replied cordially also, "Yambo, mutware?--How do you do, chief?"

We, myself and men, interchanged "Yambos" with his warriors; and there

was nothing in our first introduction to indicate that the meeting was

of a hostile character.

The chief seated himself, his haunches resting on his heels, laying down

his bow and arrows by his side; his men did likewise.

I seated myself on a bale, and each of my men sat down on their loads,

forming quite a semicircle. The Wahha slightly outnumbered my party;

but, while they were only armed with bows and arrows, spears, and

knob-sticks, we were armed with rifles, muskets, revolvers, pistols, and

hatchets.

All were seated, and deep silence was maintained by the assembly. The

great plains around us were as still in this bright noon as if they were

deserted of all living creatures. Then the chief spoke:

"I am Mionvu, the great Mutware of Kimenyi, and am next to the King, who

lives yonder," pointing to a large village near some naked hills about

ten miles to the north. "I have come to talk with the white man. It has

always been the custom of the Arabs and the Wangwana to make a present

to the King when they pass through his country. Does not the white man

mean to pay the King's dues? Why does the white man halt in the road?

Why will he not enter the village of Lukomo, where there is food and

shade--where we can discuss this thing quietly? Does the white man mean

to fight? I know well he is stronger than we are. His men have guns, and

the Wahha have but bows and arrows, and spears; but Uhha is large, and

our villages are many. Let him look about him everywhere--all is Uhha,

and our country extends much further than he can see or walk in a day.

The King of Uhha is strong; yet he wishes friendship only with the white

man. Will the white man have war or peace?"

A deep murmur of assent followed this speech of Mionvu from his people,

and disapprobation, blended with a certain uneasiness; from my men. When

about replying, the words of General Sherman, which I heard him utter to

the chiefs of the Arapahoes and Cheyennes at North Platte, in 1867,

came to my mind; and something of their spirit I embodied in my reply to

Mionvu, Mutware of Kimenyi.

"Mionvu, the great Mutware, asks me if I have come for war. When did

Mionvu ever hear of white men warring against black men? Mionvu must

understand that the white men are different from the black. White men do

not leave their country to fight the black people, neither do they

come here to buy ivory or slaves. They come to make friends with black

people; they come to search for rivers; and lakes, and mountains; they

come to discover what countries, what peoples, what rivers, what lakes,

what forests, what plains, what mountains and hills are in your country;

to know the different animals that are in the land of the black people,

that, when they go back, they may tell the white kings, and men, and

children, what they have seen and heard in the land so far from them.

The white people are different from the Arabs and Wangwana; the white

people know everything, and are very strong. When they fight, the Arabs

and the Wangwana run away. We have great guns which thunder, and when

they shoot the earth trembles; we have guns which carry bullets further

than you can see: even with these little things" (pointing to my

revolvers) "I could kill ten men quicker than you could count. We are

stronger than the Wahha. Mionvu has spoken the truth, yet we do not wish

to fight. I could kill Mionvu now, yet I talk to him as to a friend. I

wish to be a friend to Mionvu, and to all black people. Will Mionvu say

what I can do for him?"

As these words were translated to him--imperfectly, I suppose, but

still, intelligibly--the face of the Wahha showed how well they

appreciated them. Once or twice I thought I detected something like

fear, but my assertions that I desired peace and friendship with them

soon obliterated all such feelings.

Mionvu replied:

"The white man tells me he is friendly. Why does he not come to our

village? Why does he stop on the road? The sun is hot. Mionvu will not

speak here any more. If the white man is a friend he will come to the

village."

"We must stop now. It is noon. You have broken our march. We will go and

camp in your village," I said, at the same time rising and pointing to

the men to take up their loads.

We were compelled to camp; there was no help for it; the messengers had

not returned from Kawanga. Having arrived in his village, Mionvu had

cast himself at full length under the scanty shade afforded by a few

trees within the boma. About 2 P.M. the messengers returned, saying it

was true the chief of Kawanga had taken ten cloths; not, however for the

King of Uhha, but for himself!

Mionvu, who evidently was keen-witted, and knew perfectly what he was

about, now roused himself, and began to make miniature faggots of thin

canes, ten in each faggot, and shortly he presented ten of these small

bundles, which together contained one hundred, to me, saying each stick

represented a cloth, and the amount of the "honga" required by the King

of Uhha was ONE HUNDRED CLOTHS!--nearly two bales!

Recovering from our astonishment, which was almost indescribable, we

offered TEN.

"Ten! to the King of Uhha! Impossible. You do not stir from Lukomo until

you pay us one hundred!" exclaimed Mionvu, in a significant manner.

I returned no answer, but went to my hut, which Mionvu had cleared for

my use, and Bombay, Asmani, Mabruki, and Chowpereh were invited--to come

to me for consultation. Upon my asking them if we could not fight our

way through Uhha, they became terror-stricken, and Bombay, in imploring

accents, asked me to think well what I was about to do, because it was

useless to enter on a war with the Wahha. "Uhha is all a plain country;

we cannot hide anywhere. Every village will rise all about us, and how

can forty-five men fight thousands of people? They would kill us all in

a few minutes, and how would you ever reach Ujiji if you died? Think of

it, my dear master, and do not throw your life away for a few rags of

cloth."

"Well, but, Bombay, this is robbery. Shall we submit to be robbed? Shall

we give this fellow everything he asks? He might as well ask me for all

the cloth, and all my guns, without letting him see that we can fight. I

can kill Mionvu and his principal men myself, and you can slay all those

howlers out there without much trouble. If Mionvu and his principal were

dead we should not be troubled much, and we could strike south to the

Mala-garazi, and go west to Ujiji."

"No, no, dear master, don't think of it for a moment. If we went

neat the Malagarazi we should come across Lokanda-Mira."

"Well, then, we will go north."

"Up that way Uhha extends far; and beyond Uhha are the Watuta."

"Well, then, say what we shall do. We must do something; but we

must not be robbed."

"Pay Mionvu what he asks, and let us go away from here. This is

the last place we shall have to pay. And in four days we shall be

in Ujiji."

"Did Mionvu tell you that this is the last time we would have to

pay?"

"He did, indeed."

"What do you say, Asmani? Shall we fight or pay?" Asmani's

face wore the usual smile, but he replied,

"I am afraid we must pay. This is positively the last time."

"And you, Chowpereh?"

"Pay, bana; it is better to get along quietly in this country.

If we were strong enough they would pay us. Ah, if we had only

two hundred guns, how these Wahha would run!"

"What do you say, Mabruki?"

"Ah, master, dear master; it is very hard, and these people are

great robbers. I would like to chop their heads off, all; so I

would. But you had better pay. This is the last time; and what

are one hundred cloths to you?"

"Well, then, Bombay and Asmani, go to Mionvu, and offer him twenty.

If he will not take twenty, give him thirty. If he refuses thirty,

give him forty; then go up to eighty, slowly. Make plenty of talk;

not one doti more. I swear to you I will shoot Mionvu if he demands

more than eighty. Go, and remember to be wise."

I will cut the matter short. At 9 P.M. sixty-four doti were

handed over to Mionvu, for the King of Uhha; six doti for

himself, and five doti for his sub; altogether seventy-five doti--

a bale and a quarter! No sooner had we paid than they began to

fight amongst themselves over the booty, and I was in hopes that

the factions would proceed to battle, that I might have good excuse

for leaving them, and plunging south to the jungle that I believed

existed there, by which means, under its friendly cover, we might

strike west. But no, it was only a verbose war, which portended

nothing more than a noisy clamor.

November 6th.--At dawn we were on the road, very silent and sad.

Our stock of cloth was much diminished; we had nine bales left,

sufficient to have taken us to the Atlantic Ocean--aided by the

beads, which were yet untouched--if we practised economy. If I

met many more like Mionvu I had not enough to take me to Ujiji,

and, though we were said to be so near, Livingstone seemed to me

to be just as far as ever.

We crossed the Pombwe, and then struck across a slowly-undulating

plain rising gradually to mountains on our right, and on our left

sinking towards the valley of the Malagarazi, which river was

about twenty miles away. Villages rose to our view everywhere.

Food was cheap, milk was plentiful, and the butter good.

After a four hours' march, we crossed the Kanengi River, and

entered the boma of Kahirigi, inhabited by several Watusi and Wahha.

Here, we were told, lived the King of Uhha's brother. This

announcement was anything but welcome, and I began to suspect I had

fallen into another hornets' nest. We had not rested two hours

before two Wangwana entered my tent, who were slaves of Thani bin

Abdullah, our dandified friend of Unyanyembe. These men came, on

the part of the king's brother, to claim the HONGA! The king's

brother, demanded thirty doti! Half a bale! Merciful Providence!

What shall I do?

We had been told by Mionvu that the honga of Uhha was settled--and

now here is another demand from the King's brother! It is the

second time the lie has been told, and we have twice been deceived.

We shall be deceived no more.

These two men informed us there were five more chiefs, living but

two hours from each other, who would exact tribute, or black-mail,

like those we had seen. Knowing this much, I felt a certain calm.

It was far better to know the worst at once. Five more chiefs with

their demands would assuredly ruin us. In view of which, what is

to be done? How am I to reach Livingstone, without being beggared?

Dismissing the men, I called Bombay, and told him to assist Asmani

in settling the honga--"as cheaply as possible." I then lit my

pipe, put on the cap of consideration, and began to think. Within

half an hour, I had made a plan, which was to be attempted to be

put in execution that very night.

I summoned the two slaves of Thani bin Abdullah, after the honga

had been settled to everybody's satisfaction--though the profoundest

casuistries and diplomatic arguments failed to reduce it lower than

twenty-six doti--and began asking them about the possibility of

evading the tribute-taking Wahha ahead.

This rather astonished them at first, and they declared it to be

impossible; but, finally, after being pressed, they replied, that

one of their number should guide us at midnight, or a little after,

into the jungle which grew on the frontiers of Uhha and Uvinza. By

keeping a direct west course through this jungle until we came to

Ukaranga we might be enabled--we were told--to travel through Uhha

without further trouble. If I were willing to pay the guide

twelve doti, and if I were able to impose silence on my people

while passing through the sleeping village, the guide was positive

I could reach Ujiji without paying another doti. It is needless to

add, that I accepted the proffered assistance at such a price with

joy.

But there was much to be done. Provisions were to be purchased,

sufficient to last four days, for the tramp through the jungle,

and men were at once sent with cloth to purchase grain at any price.

Fortune favoured us, for before 8 P.M. we had enough for six days.

November 7th.--I did not go to sleep at all last night, but a

little after midnight, as the moon was beginning to show itself,

by gangs of four, the men stole quietly out of the village; and

by 3 A.M. the entire Expedition was outside the boma, and not the

slightest alarm had been made. After a signal to the new guide,

the Expedition began to move in a southern direction along the

right bank of the Kanengi River. After an hour's march in this

direction, we struck west, across the grassy plain, and maintained

it, despite the obstacles we encountered, which were sore enough to

naked men. The bright moon lighted our path: dark clouds now and

then cast immense long shadows over the deserted and silent plains,

and the moonbeans were almost obscured, and at such times our

position seemed awful--

Till the moon.

Rising in clouded majesty, at length,

Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light,

And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

Bravely toiled the men, without murmur, though their legs were

bleeding from the cruel grass. "Ambrosial morn" at last appeared,

with all its beautiful and lovely features. Heaven was born anew

to us, with comforting omens and cheery promise. The men, though

fatigued at the unusual travel, sped forward with quicker, pace as

daylight broke, until, at 8 A.M., we sighted the swift Rusugi River,

when a halt was ordered in a clump of jungle near it, for breakfast

and rest. Both banks of the river were alive with buffalo, eland,

and antelope, but, though the sight was very tempting, we did not

fire, because we dared not. The report of a gun would have alarmed

the whole country. I preferred my coffee, and the contentment which

my mind experienced at our success.

An hour after we had rested, some natives, carrying salt from the

Malagarazi, were seen coming up the right bank of the river. When

abreast of our hiding-place, they detected us, and dropping their

salt-bags, they took to their heels at once, shouting out as they

ran, to alarm some villages that appeared about four miles north of

us. The men were immediately ordered to take up their loads, and

in a few minutes we had crossed the Rusugi, and were making direct

for a bamboo jungle that appeared in our front. On, on, we kept

steadily until, at 1 P.M., we sighted the little lake of Musunya,

as wearied as possible with our nine hours march.

Lake Musunya is one of the many circular basins found in this part

of Uhha. There was quite a group of them. The more correct term

of these lakes would be immense pools. In the Masika season, Lake

Musunya must extend to three or four miles in length by two in breadth.

It swarms with hippopotami, and its shores abound with noble game.

We were very quiet, as may be imagined, in our bivouac; neither

tent nor hut was raised, nor was fire kindled, so that, in case of

pursuit, we could move off without delay. I kept my Winchester

rifle (the gift of my friend Mr. Morris, and a rare gift it was

for such a crisis) with its magazine full, and two hundred

cartridges in a bag slung over my shoulders. Each soldier's gun

was also ready and loaded, and we retired to sleep our fatigues

off with a feeling of perfect security.

November 8th.--Long before dawn appeared, we were on the march, and,

as daylight broke, we emerged from the bamboo jungle, and struck

across the naked plain of Uhha, once more passing several large

pools by the way--far-embracing prospects of undulating country,

with here and there a characteristic clump of trees relieving the

general nudity of the whole. Hour after hour we toiled on,

across the rolling land waves, the sun shining with all its wonted

African fervor, but with its heat slightly tempered by the

welcome breezes, which came laden with the fragrance of young

grass, and perfume of strange flowers of various hues, that flecked

the otherwise pale-green sheet which extended so far around us.

We arrived at the Rugufu River--not the Ukawendi Rugufu, but the

northern stream of that name, a tributary of the Malagarazi. It

was a broad shallow stream, and sluggish, with an almost imperceptible

flow south-west. While we halted in the deep shade afforded by a

dense clump of jungle, close to the right bank, resting awhile before

continuing our journey. I distinctly heard a sound as of distant

thunder in the west. Upon asking if it were thunder, I was told it

was Kabogo.

"Kabogo? what is that?"

"It is a great mountain on the other side of the Tanganika, full

of deep holes, into which the water rolls; and when there is wind

on the Tanganika, there is a sound like mvuha (thunder). Many

boats have been lost there, and it is a custom with Arabs and

natives to throw cloth--Merikani and Kaniki--and especially white

(Merikani) beads, to appease the mulungu (god) of the lake.

Those who throw beads generally get past without trouble,

but those who do not throw beads into the lake get lost, and are

drowned. Oh, it is a dreadful place!" This story was told me by

the ever-smiling guide Asmani, and was corroborated by other

former mariners of the lake whom I had with me.

At the least, this place where we halted for dinner, on the banks

of the Rugufu River, is eighteen and a half hours, or forty-six

miles, from Ujiji; and, as Kabogo is said to be near Uguhha, it

must be over sixty miles from Ujiji; therefore the sound of the

thundering surf, which is said to roll into the caves of Kabogo,

was heard by us at a distance of over one hundred miles away from

them.

Continuing our journey for three hours longer, through thin

forests, over extensive beds of primitive rock, among fields of

large boulders thickly strewn about, passing by numerous herds

of buffalo, giraffe, and zebra, over a quaking quagmire which

resembled peat, we arrived at the small stream of Sunuzzi, to a

camping place only a mile removed from a large settlement of Wahha.

But we were buried in the depths of a great forest--no road was in

the vicinity, no noise was made, deep silence was preserved; nor

were fires lit. We might therefore rest tranquilly secure, certain

that we should not be disturbed. To-morrow morning the kirangozi

has promised we shall be out of Uhha, and if we travel on to

Niamtaga, in Ukaranga, the same day, the next day would see us

in Ujiji.

Patience, my soul! A few hours more, then the end of all this

will be known! I shall be face to face with that "white man with

the white hairs on his face, whoever he is!"

November 9th.--Two hours before dawn we left our camp on the Sunuzzi

River, and struck through the forest in a north-by-west direction,

having muzzled our goats previously, lest, by their bleating, they

might betray us. This was a mistake which might have ended

tragically, for just as the eastern sky began to assume a pale

greyish tint, we emerged from the jungle on the high road. The

guide thought we had passed Uhha, and set up a shout which was

echoed by every member of the caravan, and marched onward with

new vigor and increased energy, when plump we came to the outskirts

of a village, the inhabitants of which were beginning to stir.

Silence was called for at once, and the Expedition halted

immediately. I walked forward to the front to advise with the guide.

He did not know what to do. There was no time to consider, so I

ordered the goats to be slaughtered and left on the road, and the

guide to push on boldly through the village. The chickens also had

their throats cut; after which the Expedition resumed the march

quickly and silently, led by the guide, who had orders to plunge

into the jungle south of the road. I stayed until the last man

had disappeared; then, after preparing my Winchester, brought up

the rear, followed by my gunbearers with their stock of ammunition.

As we were about disappearing beyond the last hut, a man darted out

of his hut, and uttered an exclamation of alarm, and loud voices

were heard as if in dispute. But in a short time we were in the

depths of the jungle, hurrying away from the road in a southern

direction, and edging slightly westward. Once I thought we were

pursued, and I halted behind a tree to check our foes if they

persisted in following us; but a few minutes proved to me that we

were not pursued, After half-an-hour's march we again turned our

faces westward. It was broad daylight now, and our eyes were

delighted with most picturesque and sequestered little valleys,

where wild fruit-trees grew, and rare flowers blossomed, and

tiny brooks tumbled over polished pebbles--where all was bright

and beautiful--until, finally, wading through one pretty pure

streamlet, whose soft murmurs we took for a gentle welcome, we

passed the boundary of wicked Uhha, and had entered Ukaranga!--

an event that was hailed with extravagant shouts of joy.

Presently we found the smooth road, and we trod gaily with

elastic steps, with limbs quickened for the march which we all

knew to be drawing near its end. What cared we now for the

difficulties we had encountered--for the rough and cruel forests,

for the thorny thickets and hurtful grass, for the jangle of all

savagedom, of which we had been the joyless audience! To-morrow!

Ay, the great day draws nigh, and we may well laugh and sing while

in this triumphant mood. We have been sorely tried; we have been

angry with each other when vexed by troubles, but we forget all

these now, and there is no face but is radiant with the happiness

we have all deserved.

We made a short halt at noon, for rest and refreshment. I was

shown the hills from which the Tanganika could be seen, which

bounded the valley of the Liuche on the east. I could not contain

myself at the sight of them. Even with this short halt I was

restless and unsatisfied. We resumed the march again. I spurred

my men forward with the promise that to-morrow should see their reward.

We were in sight of the villages of the Wakaranga; the people

caught sight of us, and manifested considerable excitement. I sent

men ahead to reassure them, and they came forward to greet us. This

was so new and welcome to us, so different from the turbulent Wavinza

and the black-mailers of Uhha, that we were melted. But we had

no time to loiter by the way to indulge our joy. I was impelled onward

by my almost uncontrollable feelings. I wished to resolve my doubts

and fears. Was HE still there? Had HE heard of my coming? Would HE

fly?

How beautiful Ukaranga appears! The green hills are crowned by

clusters of straw-thatched cones. The hills rise and fall; here

denuded and cultivated, there in pasturage, here timbered, yonder

swarming with huts. The country has somewhat the aspect of Maryland.

We cross the Mkuti, a glorious little river! We ascend the opposite

bank, and stride through the forest like men who have done a deed

of which they may be proud. We have already travelled nine hours,

and the sun is sinking rapidly towards the west; yet, apparently,

we are not fatigued.

We reach the outskirts of Niamtaga, and we hear drums beat. The

people are flying into the woods; they desert their villages, for

they take us to be Ruga-Ruga--the forest thieves of Mirambo, who,

after conquering the Arabs of Unyanyembe, are coming to fight the

Arabs of Ujiji. Even the King flies from his village, and every

man, woman, and child, terror-stricken, follows him. We enter

into it and quietly take possession. Finally, the word is bruited

about that we are Wangwana, from Unyanyembe.

"Well, then, is Mirambo dead?" they ask.

"No," we answer.

"Well, how did you come to Ukaranga?"

"By way of Ukonongo, Ukawendi, and Uhha."

"Oh--hi-le!" Then they laugh heartily at their fright, and begin

to make excuses. The King is introduced to me, and he says he had

only gone to the woods in order to attack us again--he meant to have

come back and killed us all, if we had been Ruga-Ruga. But then we

know the poor King was terribly frightened, and would never have

dared to return, had we been RugaRuga--not he. We are not, however,

in a mood to quarrel with him about an idiomatic phrase peculiar

to him, but rather take him by the hand and shake it well, and say

we are so very glad to see him. And he shares in our pleasure,

and immediately three of the fattest sheep, pots of beer, flour,

and honey are brought to us as a gift, and I make him happier still

with two of the finest cloths I have in my bales; and thus a

friendly pact is entered into between us.

While I write my Diary of this day's proceedings, I tell my

servant to lay out my new flannel suit, to oil my boots, to

chalk my helmet, and fold a new puggaree around it, that I may

make as presentable an appearance as possible before the white

man with the grey beard, and before the Arabs of Ujiji; for the

clothes I have worn through jungle and forest are in tatters.

Good-night; only let one day come again, and we shall see what

we shall see.

November 10th. Friday.--The 236th day from Bagamoyo on the Sea,

and the 51st day from Unyanyembe. General direction to Ujiji,

west-by-south. Time of march, six hours.

It is a happy, glorious morning. The air is fresh and cool.

The sky lovingly smiles on the earth and her children. The deep

woods are crowned in bright vernal leafage; the water of the Mkuti,

rushing under the emerald shade afforded by the bearded banks,

seems to challenge us for the race to Ujiji, with its continuous

brawl.

We are all outside the village cane fence, every man of us looking

as spruce, as neat, and happy as when we embarked on the dhows at

Zanzibar, which seems to us to have been ages ago--we have witnessed

and experienced so much.

"Forward!"

"Ay Wallah, ay Wallah, bana yango!" and the lighthearted braves

stride away at a rate which must soon bring us within view of

Ujiji. We ascend a hill overgrown with bamboo, descend into a

ravine through which dashes an impetuous little torrent, ascend

another short hill, then, along a smooth footpath running across

the slope of a long ridge, we push on as only eager, lighthearted

men can do.

In two hours I am warned to prepare for a view of the Tanganika,

for, from the top of a steep mountain the kirangozi says I can see

it. I almost vent the feeling of my heart in cries. But wait, we

must behold it first. And we press forward and up the hill

breathlessly, lest the grand scene hasten away. We are at last on

the summit. Ah! not yet can it be seen. A little further on--just

yonder, oh! there it is--a silvery gleam. I merely catch sight of

it between the trees, and--but here it is at last! True--THE TANGANIKA!

and there are the blue-black mountains of Ugoma and Ukaramba. An

immense broad sheet, a burnished bed of silver--lucid canopy of

blue above--lofty mountains are its valances, palm forests form its

fringes! The Tanganika!--Hurrah! and the men respond to the

exultant cry of the Anglo-Saxon with the lungs of Stentors, and the

great forests and the hills seem to share in our triumph.

"Was this the place where Burton and Speke stood, Bombay, when they

saw the lake first?"

"I don't remember, master; it was somewhere about here, I think."

"Poor fellows! The one was half-paralyzed, the other half-blind,"

said Sir Roderick Murchison, when he described Burton and Spoke's

arrival in view of the Tanganika.

And I? Well, I am so happy that, were I quite paralyzed and

blinded, I think that at this supreme moment I could take up my

bed and walk, and all blindness would cease at once. Fortunately,

however, I am quite well; I have not suffered a day's sickness

since the day I left Unyanyembe. How much would Shaw be willing

to give to be in my place now? Who is happiest--he revelling in

the luxuries of Unyanyembe, or I, standing on the summit of this

mountain, looking down with glad eyes and proud heart on the

Tanganika?

We are descending the western slope of the mountain, with the

valley of the Liuche before us. Something like an hour before

noon we have gained the thick matete brake, which grows on both

banks of the river; we wade through the clear stream, arrive on

the other side, emerge out of the brake, and the gardens of the

Wajiji are around us--a perfect marvel of vegetable wealth.

Details escape my hasty and partial observation. I am almost

overpowered with my own emotions. I notice the graceful palms,

neat plots, green with vegetable plants, and small villages

surrounded with frail fences of the matete-cane.

We push on rapidly, lest the news of our coming might reach the

people of Ujiji before we come in sight, and are ready for them.

We halt at a little brook, then ascend the long slope of a naked

ridge, the very last of the myriads we have crossed. This alone

prevents us from seeing the lake in all its vastness. We arrive

at the summit, travel across and arrive at its western rim, and--

pause, reader--the port of Ujiji is below us, embowered in the

palms, only five hundred yards from us!

At this grand moment we do not think of the hundreds of miles we

have marched, or of the hundreds of hills that we have ascended

and descended, or of the many forests we have traversed, or of the

jungles and thickets that annoyed us, or of the fervid salt plains

that blistered our feet, or of the hot suns that scorched us, nor

of the dangers and difficulties, now happily surmounted!

At last the sublime hour has arrived;--our dreams, our hopes, and

anticipations are now about to be realised! Our hearts and our

feelings are with our eyes, as we peer into the palms and try to

make out in which hut or house lives the "white man with the grey

beard" we heard about when we were at the Malagarazi.

"Unfurl the flags, and load your guns!"

"We will, master, we will, master!" respond the men eagerly.

"One, two, three,--fire!"

A volley from nearly fifty guns roars like a salute from a

battery of artillery: we shall note its effect presently on

the peaceful-looking village below.

"Now, kirangozi, hold the white man's flag up high, and let the

Zanzibar flag bring up the rear. And you men keep close together,

and keep firing until we halt in the market-place, or before the

white man's house. You have said to me often that you could smell

the fish of the Tanganika--I can smell the fish of the Tanganika

now. There are fish, and beer, and a long rest waiting for you.

MARCH!"

Before we had gone a hundred yards our repeated volleys had the

effect desired. We had awakened Ujiji to the knowledge that a

caravan was coming, and the people were witnessed rushing up in

hundreds to meet us. The mere sight of the flags informed every

one immediately that we were a caravan, but the American flag

borne aloft by gigantic Asmani, whose face was one vast smile on

this day, rather staggered them at first. However, many of the

people who now approached us, remembered the flag. They had seen

it float above the American Consulate, and from the mast-head of

many a ship in the harbor of Zanzibar, and they were soon heard

welcoming the beautiful flag with cries of "Bindera Kisungu!"--a

white man's flag! "Bindera Merikani!"--the American flag!

Then we were surrounded by them: by Wajiji, Wanyamwezi, Wangwana,

Warundi, Waguhha, Wamanyuema, and Arabs, and were almost

deafened with the shouts of "Yambo, yambo, bana! Yambo, bana!

Yambo, bana!" To all and each of my men the welcome was given.

We were now about three hundred yards from the village of Ujiji,

and the crowds are dense about me. Suddenly I hear a voice on

my right say,

"Good morning, sir!"

Startled at hearing this greeting in the midst of such a crowd of

black people, I turn sharply around in search of the man, and see

him at my side, with the blackest of faces, but animated and

joyous--a man dressed in a long white shirt, with a turban of

American sheeting around his woolly head, and I ask:

"Who the mischief are you?"

"I am Susi, the servant of Dr. Livingstone," said be, smiling,

and showing a gleaming row of teeth.

"What! Is Dr. Livingstone here?"

"Yes, sir."

"In this village?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure, sure, sir. Why, I leave him just now."

"Good morning, sir," said another voice.

"Hallo," said I, "is this another one?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, what is your name?"

"My name is Chumah, sir."

"What! are you Chumah, the friend of Wekotani?"

"Yes, sir."

"And is the-Doctor well?"

"Not very well, sir."

"Where has he been so long?"

"In Manyuema."

"Now, you Susi, run, and tell the Doctor I am coming."

"Yes, sir," and off he darted like a madman.

But by this time we were within two hundred yards of the village,

and the multitude was getting denser, and almost preventing our

march. Flags and streamers were out; Arabs and Wangwana were

pushing their way through the natives in order to greet us, for

according to their account, we belonged to them. But the great

wonder of all was, "How did you come from Unyanyembe?"

Soon Susi came running back, and asked me my name; he had told

the Doctor I was coming, but the Doctor was too surprised to believe

him, and when the Doctor asked him my name, Susi was rather staggered.

But, during Susi's absence, the news had been conveyed to the

Doctor that it was surely a white man that was coming, whose guns

were firing, and whose flag could be seen; and the great Arab

magnates of Ujiji--Mohammed bin Sali, Sayd bin Majid, Abid bin

Suliman, Mohammed bin Gharib, and others--had gathered together

before the Doctor's house, and the Doctor had come out from his

veranda to discuss the matter and await my arrival.

In the meantime, the head of the Expedition had halted, and the

kirangozi was out of the ranks, holding his flag aloft, and Selim

said to me, "I see the Doctor, sir. Oh, what an old man! He has

got a white beard." And I--what would I not have given for a bit

of friendly wilderness, where, unseen, I might vent my joy in some

mad freak, such as idiotically biting my hand; turning a somersault,

or slashing at trees, in order to allay those exciting feelings

that were well-nigh uncontrollable. My heart beats fast, but I must

not let my face betray my emotions, lest it shall detract from the

dignity of a white man appearing under such extraordinary circumstances.

So I did that which I thought was most dignified. I pushed back

the crowds, and, passing from the rear, walked down a living avenue

of people, until I came in front of the semicircle of Arabs, before

which stood the "white man with the grey beard."

As I advanced slowly towards him I noticed he was pale, that he

looked wearied and wan, that he had grey whiskers and moustache,

that he wore a bluish cloth cap with a faded gold band on a red

ground round it, and that he had on a red-sleeved waistcoat, and a

pair of grey tweed trousers.

I would have run to him, only I was a coward in the presence of

such a mob--would have embraced him, but that I did not know how

he would receive me; so I did what moral cowardice and false pride

suggested was the best thing--walked deliberately to him, took off

my hat, and said:

"DR. LIVINGSTONE, I PRESUME?"

"Yes," said he, with a kind, cordial smile, lifting his cap slightly.

I replaced my hat on my head, and he replaced his cap, and we

both grasped hands. I then said aloud:

"I thank God, Doctor, I have been permitted to see you."

He answered, "I feel thankful that I am here to welcome you."

I turned to the Arabs, took off my hat to them in response to the

saluting chorus of "Yambos" I received, and the Doctor introduced

them to me by name. Then, oblivious of the crowds, oblivious of

the men who shared with me my dangers, we--Livingstone and I--

turned our faces towards his house. He pointed to the veranda,

or rather, mud platform, under the broad overhanging eaves; he

pointed to his own particular seat, which I saw his age and

experience in Africa had suggested, namely, a straw mat, with a

goatskin over it, and another skin nailed against the wall to

protect his back from contact with the cold mud. I protested

against taking this seat, which so much more befitted him than I,

but the Doctor would not yield: I must take it.

We were seated--the Doctor and I--with our backs to the wall.

The Arabs took seats on our left. More than a thousand natives

were in our front, filling the whole square densely, indulging

their curiosity, and discussing the fact of two white men meeting

at Ujiji--one just come from Manyuema, in the west, the other from

Unyanyembe, in the east.

Conversation began. What about? I declare I have forgotten.

Oh! we mutually asked questions of one another, such as

"How did you come here?" and "Where have you been all this long

time?--the world has believed you to be dead." Yes, that was the

way it began: but whatever the Doctor informed me, and that which

I communicated to him, I cannot correctly report, for I found myself

gazing at him, conning the wonderful figure and face of the man at

whose side I now sat in Central Africa. Every hair of his head

and beard, every wrinkle of his face, the wanness of his features,

and the slightly wearied look he wore, were all imparting

intelligence to me--the knowledge I craved for so much ever since

I heard the words, "Take what you want, but find Livingstone."

What I saw was deeply interesting intelligence to me, and unvarnished

truth. I was listening and reading at the same time. What did these

dumb witnesses relate to me?

Oh, reader, had you been at my side on this day in Ujiji, how

eloquently could be told the nature of this man's work! Had you

been there but to see and hear! His lips gave me the details; lips

that never lie. I cannot repeat what he said; I was too much

engrossed to take my note-book out, and begin to stenograph his story.

He had so much to say that he began at the end, seemingly oblivious

of the fact that five or six years had to be accounted for. But his

account was oozing out; it was growing fast into grand proportions--

into a most marvellous history of deeds.

The Arabs rose up, with a delicacy I approved, as if they intuitively

knew that we ought to be left to ourselves. I sent Bombay with them

to give them the news they also wanted so much to know about the

affairs at Unyanyembe. Sayd bin Majid was the father of the gallant

young man whom I saw at Masangi, and who fought with me at Zimbizo,

and who soon afterwards was killed by Mirambo's Ruga-Ruga in the

forest of Wilyankuru; and, knowing that I had been there, he

earnestly desired to hear the tale of the fight; but they had all

friends at Unyanyembe, and it was but natural that they should be

anxious to hear of what concerned them.

After giving orders to Bombay and Asmani for the provisioning of

the men of the Expedition, I called "Kaif-Halek," or "How-do-ye-do,"

and introduced him to Dr. Livingstone as one of the soldiers in

charge of certain goods left at Unyanyembe, whom I had compelled

to accompany me to Ujiji, that he might deliver in person to his

master the letter-bag with which he had been entrusted. This was

that famous letter-bag marked "Nov. 1st, 1870," which was now

delivered into the Doctor's hands 365 days after it left Zanzibar!

How long, I wonder, had it remained at Unyanyembe had I not been

despatched into Central Africa in search of the great traveller?

The Doctor kept the letter-bag on his knee, then, presently, opened

it, looked at the letters contained there, and read one or two of

his children's letters, his face in the meanwhile lighting up.

He asked me to tell him the news. "No, Doctor," said I, "read your

letters first, which I am sure you must be impatient to read."

"Ah," said he, "I have waited years for letters, and I have been

taught patience. I can surely afford to wait a few hours longer.

No, tell me the general news: how is the world getting along?

"You probably know much already. Do you know that the Suez Canal

is a fact--is opened, and a regular trade carried on between Europe

and India through it?"

"I did not hear about the opening of it. Well, that is grand news!

What else?"

Shortly I found myself enacting the part of an annual periodical

to him. There was no need of exaggeration of any penny-a-line

news, or of any sensationalism. The world had witnessed and

experienced much the last few years. The Pacific Railroad had been

completed (1869); Grant had been elected President of the United States;

Egypt had been flooded with savans: the Cretan rebellion had

terminated (1866-1868); a Spanish revolution had driven Isabella

from the throne of Spain, and a Regent had been appointed: General

Prim was assassinated; a Castelar had electrified Europe with his

advanced ideas upon the liberty of worship; Prussia had humbled Denmark,

and annexed Schleswig-Holstein <1864>, and her armies were now around

Paris; the "Man of Destiny" was a prisoner at Wilhelmshohe;

the Queen of Fashion and the Empress of the French was a fugitive;

and the child born in the purple had lost for ever the Imperial

crown intended for his head; the Napoleon dynasty was extinguished

by the Prussians, Bismarck and Von Moltke; and France, the proud

empire, was humbled to the dust.

What could a man have exaggerated of these facts? What a budget

of news it was to one who had emerged from the depths of the

primeval forests of Manyuema! The reflection of the dazzling

light of civilisation was cast on him while Livingstone was thus

listening in wonder to one of the most exciting pages of history

ever repeated. How the puny deeds of barbarism paled before

these! Who could tell under what new phases of uneasy life Europe

was labouring even then, while we, two of her lonely children,

rehearsed the tale of her late woes and glories? More worthily,

perhaps, had the tongue of a lyric Demodocus recounted them; but,

in the absence of the poet, the newspaper correspondent performed

his part as well and truthfully as he could.

Not long after the Arabs had departed, a dishful of hot hashed-meat

cakes was sent to us by Sayd bin Majid, and a curried chicken was

received from Mohammed bin Sali, and Moeni Kheri sent a dishful of

stewed goat-meat and rice; and thus presents of food came in

succession, and as fast as they were brought we set to. I had a

healthy, stubborn digestion--the exercise I had taken had put it in

prime order; but Livingstone--he had been complaining that he had

no appetite, that his stomach refused everything but a cup of tea

now and then--he ate also--ate like a vigorous, hungry man; and,

as he vied with me in demolishing the pancakes, he kept repeating,

"You have brought me new life. You have brought me new life."

"Oh, by George!" I said, "I have forgotten something. Hasten,

Selim, and bring that bottle; you know which and bring me the silver

goblets. I brought this bottle on purpose for this event, which

I hoped would come to pass, though often it seemed useless to expect

it."

Selim knew where the bottle was, and he soon returned with it--a

bottle of Sillery champagne; and, handing the Doctor a silver

goblet brimful of the exhilarating wine, and pouring a small

quantity into my own, I said,

"Dr. Livingstone, to your very good health, sir."

"And to yours!" he responded, smilingly.

And the champagne I had treasured for this happy meeting was drunk

with hearty good wishes to each other.

But we kept on talking and talking, and prepared food was being

brought to us all that afternoon; and we kept on eating each time

it was brought, until I had eaten even to repletion, and the Doctor

was obliged to confess that he had eaten enough. Still, Halimah,

the female cook of the Doctor's establishment, was in a state of

the greatest excitement. She had been protruding her head out of

the cookhouse to make sure that there were really two white men

sitting down in the veranda, when there used to be only one, who

would not, because he could not, eat anything; and she had been

considerably exercised in her mind about this fact. She was

afraid the Doctor did not properly appreciate her culinary

abilities; but now she was amazed at the extraordinary quantity

of food eaten, and she was in a state of delightful excitement.

We could hear her tongue rolling off a tremendous volume of

clatter to the wondering crowds who halted before the kitchen

to hear the current of news with which she edified them. Poor,

faithful soul! While we listened to the noise of her furious

gossip, the Doctor related her faithful services, and the

terrible anxiety she evinced when the guns first announced

the arrival of another white man in Ujiji; how she had been

flying about in a state cf the utmost excitement, from the kitchen

into his presence, and out again into the square, asking all sorts

of questions; how she was in despair at the scantiness of the

general larder and treasury of the strange household; how she

was anxious to make up for their poverty by a grand appearance--

to make up a sort of Barmecide feast to welcome the white man.

"Why," said she, "is he not one of us? Does he not bring plenty

of cloth and beads? Talk about the Arabs! Who are they that

they should be compared to white men? Arabs, indeed!"

The Doctor and I conversed upon many things, especially upon his

own immediate troubles, and his disappointments, upon his arrival

in Ujiji, when told that all his goods had been sold, and he was

reduced to poverty. He had but twenty cloths or so left of the

stock he had deposited with the man called Sherif, the half-caste

drunken tailor, who was sent by the Consul in charge of the goods.

Besides which he had been suffering from an attack of dysentery,

and his condition was most deplorable. He was but little improved

on this day, though he had eaten well, and already began to feel

stronger and better.

This day, like all others, though big with happiness to me, at last

was fading away. While sitting with our faces looking to the east,

as Livingstone had been sitting for days preceding my arrival, we

noted the dark shadows which crept up above the grove of palms

beyond the village, and above the rampart of mountains which we had

crossed that day, now looming through the fast approaching

darkness; and we listened, with our hearts full of gratitude to

the Great Giver of Good and Dispenser of all Happiness, to the

sonorous thunder of the surf of the Tanganika, and to the chorus

which the night insects sang. Hours passed, and we were still

sitting there with our minds busy upon the day's remarkable events,

when I remembered that the traveller had not yet read his letters.

"Doctor," I said, "you had better read your letters. I will not

keep you up any longer."

"Yes," he answered, "it is getting late; and I will go and read

my friends' letters. Good-night, and God bless you."

"Good-night, my dear Doctor; and let me hope that your news will

be such as you desire."

I have now related, by means of my Diary, "How I found Livingstone,"

as recorded on the evening of that great day. I have been averse

to reduce it by process of excision and suppression, into a mere

cold narrative, because, by so doing, I would be unable to record

what feelings swayed each member of the Expedition as well as myself

during the days preceding the discovery of the lost traveller, and

more especially the day it was the good fortune of both Livingstone

and myself to clasp each other's hands in the strong friendship

which was born in that hour we thus strangely met. The aged

traveller, though cruelly belied, contrary to all previous expectation,

received me as a friend; and the cordial warmth with which he accepted

my greeting; the courtesy with which he tendered to me a shelter

in his own house; the simple candour of his conversation; graced

by unusual modesty of manner, and meekness of spirit, wrought in me

such a violent reaction in his favor, that when the parting

"good-night" was uttered, I felt a momentary vague fear lest the

fulness of joy which I experienced that evening would be diminished

by some envious fate, before the morrow's sun should rise above Ujiji.