An audacious desire to steal one embrace from the dear old man came over me, and almost unmanned me. I felt tempted to stop with him and assist him, on his long return march to the fountain region, but these things were not to be, any more than many other impulsive wishes, and despite the intensified emotions which filled both of us, save by silent tears, and a tremulous parting word, we did not betray our stoicism of manhood and race.

I assumed a gruff voice, and ordered the Expedition to march, and I resolutely turned my face toward the eastern sky. But ever and anon my eyes would seek that deserted figure of an old man in grey clothes, who with bended head and slow steps was returning to his solitude, the very picture of melancholy, and each time I saw him—as the plain was wide and clear of obstructions—I felt my eyes stream, and my heart swell with a vague, indefinable feeling of foreboding and sorrow.

I thought of his lonely figure sitting day after day on the burzani of his house, by which all caravans from the coast would have to pass, and of the many, many times he would ask the new-comers whether they had passed any men coming along the road for him, and I thought as each day passed, and his stores and letters had not arrived how be would grieve at the lengthening delay. I then felt strong again, as I felt that so long as I should be doing service for Livingstone, I was not quite parted from him, and by doing the work effectively and speedily the bond of friendship between us would be strengthened. Such thoughts spurred me to the resolution to march so quickly for the coast, that Arabs in after time should marvel at the speed with which the white man's caravan travelled from Unyanyembe to Zanzibar.

I took one more look at him; he was standing near the gate of Kwikuru with his servants near him. I waved a handkerchief to him, as a final token of farewell, and he responded to it by lifting his cap. It was the last opportunity, for we soon surmounted the crest of a land-wave, and began the descent into the depression on the other side, and I NEVER saw him more.

God grant, dear reader, that if ever you take to travelling in Central Africa, you find as good and true a man, for your companion, as I found in noble David Livingstone. For four months and four days he and I occupied the same house, or, the same tent, and I never had one feeling of resentment against him, nor did he show any against me, and the longer I lived with him the more did my admiration and reverence for him increase.

What were Livingstone's thoughts during the time which elapsed between my departure for the coast, and the arrival of his supplies, may be gathered from a letter which he wrote on the 2nd of July to Mr. John F. Webb, American Consul at Zanzibar.

I have been waiting up here like Simeon Stylites on his pillar, and counting every day, and conjecturing each step taken by our friend towards the coast, wishing and praying that no sickness might lay him up, no accident befall him, and no unlooked-for combinations of circumstances render his kind intentions vain or fruitless. Mr. Stanley had got over the tendency to the continued form of fever which is the most dangerous, and was troubled only with the intermittent form, which is comparatively safe, or I would not have allowed him, but would have accompanied him to Zanzibar. I did not tell himself so; nor did I say what I thought, that he really did a very plucky thing in going through the Mirambo war in spite of the remonstrances of all the Arabs, and from Ujiji guiding me back to Unyanyembe. The war, as it is called, is still going on. The danger lay not so much in the actual fighting as in the universal lawlessness the war engendered.

I am not going to inflict on the reader a repetition of our march back, except to record certain incidents which occurred to us as we journeyed to the coast.

March 17th.—We came to the Kwalah River. The first rain of the Masika season fell on this day; I shall be mildewed before I reach the coast. Last year's Masika began at Bagamoyo, March 23rd, and ended 30th April.

The next day I halted the Expedition at Western Tura, on the Unyamwezi frontier, and on the 20th arrived at Eastern Tura; when, soon after, we heard a loud report of a gun, and Susi and Hamoydah, the Doctor's servants, with Uredi, and another of my men, appeared with a letter for "Sir Thomas MacLear, Observatory, Cape of Good Hope," and one for myself, which read as follows:

Kwihara, March 15, 1872.

Dear Stanley,

If you can telegraph on your arrival in London, be particular, please, to say how Sir Roderick is. You put the matter exactly yesterday, when you said that I was "not yet satisfied about the Sources; but as soon as I shall be satisfied, I shall return and give satisfactory reasons fit for other people." This is just as it stands.

I wish I could give you a better word than the Scotch one to "put a stout heart to a stey brae"—(a steep ascent)—for you will do that; and I am thankful that, before going away, the fever had changed into the intermittent, or safe form. I would not have let you go, but with great concern, had you still been troubled with the continued type. I feel comfortable in commending you to the guardianship of the good Lord and Father of all.

I am gratefully yours,

David Livingstone.

I have worked as hard as I could copying observations made in one line of march from Kabuire, back again to Cazembe, and on to Lake Baugweolo, and am quite tired out. My large figures fill six sheets of foolscap, and many a day will elapse ere I take to copying again. I did my duty when ill at Ujiji in 1869, and am not to blame, though they grope a little in the dark at home. Some Arab letters have come, and I forward them to you.

D. L.

March 16, 1872.

P.S.—I have written a note this morning to Mr. Murray, 50, Albemarle Street, the publisher, to help you, if necessary, in sending the Journal by book post, or otherwise, to Agnes. If you call on him you will find him a frank gentleman. A pleasant journey to you.

David Livingstone.

To Henry M. Stanley, Esq., Wherever he may be found.

Several Wangwana arrived at Tura to join our returning Expedition, as they were afraid to pass through Ugogo by themselves; others were reported coming; but as all were sufficiently warned at Unyanyembe that the departure of the caravan would take place positively on the 14th, I was not disposed to wait longer.

As we were leaving Tura, on the 21st, Susi and Hamoydah were sent back to the Doctor, with last words from me, while we continued our march to Nghwhalah River.

Two days afterwards we arrived before the village of Ngaraisa, into which the head of the caravan attempted to enter but the angry Wakimbu forcibly ejected them.

On the 24th, we encamped in the jungle, in what is called the "tongoni," or clearing.

This region was at one period in a most flourishing state; the soil is exceedingly fertile; the timber is large, and would be valuable near the coast; and, what is highly appreciated in Africa, there is an abundance of water. We camped near a smooth, broad hump of syenite, at one end of which rose, upright and grand, a massive square rock, which towered above several small trees in the vicinity; at the other end stood up another singular rock, which was loosened at the base.

The members of the Expedition made use of the great sheet of rock to grind their grain; a common proceeding in these lands where villages are not near, or when the people are hostile.

On the 27th of March we entered Kiwyeh. At dawn, when leaving Mdaburu River, the solemn warning had been given that we were about entering Ugogo; and as we left Kaniyaga village, with trumpet-like blasts of the guide's horn, we filed into the depths of an expanse of rustling Indian corn. The ears were ripe enough for parching and roasting, and thus was one anxiety dispelled by its appearance; for generally, in early March, caravans suffer from famine, which overtakes both natives and strangers.

We soon entered the gum-tree districts, and we knew we were in Ugogo. The forests of this country are chiefly composed of the gum and thorn species—mimosa and tamarisk, with often a variety of wild fruit trees. The grapes were plentiful, though they were not quite ripe; and there was also a round, reddish fruit with the sweetness of the Sultana grape, with leaves like a gooseberry-bush. There was another about the size of an apricot, which was excessively bitter.

Emerging from the entangled thorn jungle, the extensive settlements of Kiwyeh came into view; and to the east of the chief's village we found a camping place under the shade of a group of colossal baobab.

We had barely encamped when we heard the booming, bellowing war horns sounding everywhere, and we espied messengers darting swiftly in every direction giving the alarm of war. When first informed that the horns were calling the people to arm themselves, and prepare for war, I half suspected that an attack was about to be made on the Expedition; but the words "Urugu, warugu" (thief! thieves!)—bandied about, declared the cause. Mukondoku, the chief of the populous district two days to the north-east, where we experienced some excitement when westward-bound, was marching to attack the young Mtemi, Kiwyeh, and Kiwyeh's soldiers were called to the fight. The men rushed to their villages, and in a short time we saw them arrayed in full fighting costume. Feathers of the ostrich and the eagle waved over their fronts, or the mane of the zebra surrounded their heads; their knees and ankles were hung with little bells; joho robes floated behind, from their necks; spears, assegais, knob-sticks, and bows were flourished over their heads, or held in their right hands, as if ready for hurling. On each flank of a large body which issued from the principal village, and which came at a uniform swinging double-quick, the ankle and knee bells all chiming in admirable unison, were a cloud of skirmishers, consisting of the most enthusiastic, who exercised themselves in mimic war as they sped along. Column after column, companies, and groups from every village hurried on past our camp until, probably, there were nearly a thousand soldiers gone to the war. This scene gave me a better idea than anything else of the weakness of even the largest caravans which travelled between Zanzibar and Unyanyembe.

At night the warriors returned from the forest; the alarm proved to be without foundation. At first it was generally reported that the invaders were Wahehe, or the Wadirigo, as that tribe are scornfully called from their thieving propensities. The Wahehe frequently make a foray upon the fat cattle of Ugogo. They travel from their own country in the south-east, and advance through the jungle, and when about to approach the herds, stoop down, covering their bodies with their shields of bull-hide. Having arrived between the cattle and the herdsmen, they suddenly rise up and begin to switch the cattle heartily, and, having started them off into the jungle in the care of men already detailed for the work, they turn about, and plant their shields before them, to fight the aroused shepherds.

On the 30th we arrived at Khonze, which is remarkable for the mighty globes of foliage which the giant sycamores and baobabs put forth above the plain. The chief of Khonze boasts of four tembes, out of which he could muster in the aggregate fifty armed men; yet this fellow, instigated by the Wanyamwezi residents, prepared to resist our advance, because I only sent him three doti—twelve yards of cloth—as honga.

We were halted, waiting the return of a few friendly Wagogo travellers who had joined us, and who were asked to assist Bombay in the negotiation of the tribute, when the Wagogo returned to us at breathless speed, and shouted out to me, "Why do you halt here? Do you wish to die? These pagans will not take the tribute, but they boast that they will eat up all your cloth."

The renegade Wanyamwezi who had married into Wagogo families were always our bane in this country. As the chief of Khonze came up I ordered the men to load their guns, and I loaded my own ostentatiously in his presence, and then strode up to him, and asked if he had come to take the cloth by force, or if he were going to accept quietly what I would give him. As the Mnyamwezi who caused this show of hostilities was beginning to speak, I caught him by the throat, and threatened to make his nose flatter if he attempted to speak again in my presence, and to shoot him first, if we should be forced to fight. The rascal was then pushed away into the rear. The chief, who was highly amused with this proceeding, laughed loudly at the discomfiture of the parasite, and in a short time he and I had settled the tribute to our mutual satisfaction, and we parted great friends. The Expedition arrived at Sanza that night.

On the 31st we came to Kanyenyi, to the great Mtemi—Magomba's— whose son and heir is Mtundu M'gondeh. As we passed by the tembe of the great Sultan, the msagira, or chief counsellor, a pleasant grey-haired man, was at work making a thorn fence around a patch of young corn. He greeted the caravan with a sonorous "Yambo," and, putting himself at its head, he led the way to our camp. When introduced to me he was very cordial in his manner. He was offered a kiti-stool and began to talk very affably. He remembered my predecessors, Burton, Speke, and Grant, very well; declared me to be much younger than any of them; and, recollecting that one of the white men used to drink asses' milk (Burton?), offered to procure me some. The way I drank it seemed to give him very great satisfaction.

His son, Unamapokera, was a tall man of thirty or thereabouts, and he conceived a great friendship for me, and promised that the tribute should be very light, and that he would send a man to show me the way to Myumi, which was a village on the frontier of Kanyenyi, by which I would be enabled to avoid the rapacious Kisewah, who was in the habit of enforcing large tribute from caravans.

With the aid of Unamapokera and his father, we contrived to be mulcted very lightly, for we only paid ten doti, while Burton was compelled to pay sixty doti or two hundred and forty yards of cloth.

On the 1st of April, rising early, we reached Myumi after a four hours' march; then plunged into the jungle, and, about 2 P.M. arrived at a large ziwa, or pond, situate in the middle of a jungle; and on the next day, at 10 A.M., reached the fields of Mapanga. We were passing the village of Mapanga to a resting-place beyond the village, where we might breakfast and settle the honga, when a lad rushed forward to meet us, and asked us where we were going. Having received a reply that we were going to a camping-place, he hastened on ahead, and presently we heard him talking to some men in a field on our right.

In the meantime, we had found a comfortable shady place, and had come to a halt; the men were reclining on the ground, or standing up near their respective loads; Bombay was about opening a bale, when we heard a great rush of men, and loud shouts, and, immediately after, out rushed from the jungle near by a body of forty or fifty armed men, who held their spears above their heads, or were about to draw their bows, with a chief at their head, all uttering such howls of rage as only savages can, which sounded like a long-drawn "Hhaat-uh—Hhaat-uhh-uhh," which meant, unmistakably, "You will, will you? No, you will not!"—at once determined, defiant, and menacing.

I had suspected that the voices I heard boded no good to us, and I had accordingly prepared my weapons and cartridges. Verily, what a fine chance for adventure this was! One spear flung at us, or one shot fired into this minatory mob of savages, and the opposing' bands had been plunged into a fatal conflict! There would have been no order of battle, no pomp of war, but a murderous strife, a quick firing of breech-loaders, and volleys from flint-lock muskets, mixed with the flying of spears and twanging of bows, the cowardly running away at once, pursued by yelping savages; and who knows how it all would have terminated? Forty spears against forty guns—but how many guns would not have decamped? Perhaps all, and I should have been left with my boy gunbearers to have my jugular deliberately severed, or to be decapitated, leaving my head to adorn a tall pole in the centre of a Kigogo village, like poor Monsieur Maizan's at Dege la Mhora, in Uzaramo. Happy end of an Expedition! And the Doctor's Journal lost for ever—the fruits of six years' labor!

But in this land it will not do to fight unless driven to the very last extremity. No belligerent Mungo Park can be successful in Ugogo unless he has a sufficient force of men with him. With five hundred Europeans one could traverse Africa from north to south, by tact, and the moral effect that such a force would inspire. Very little fighting would be required.

Without rising from the bale on which I was seated, I requested the kirangozi to demand an explanation of their furious hubbub and threatening aspect; if they were come to rob us.

"No," said the chief; "we do not want to stop the road, or to rob you; but we want the tribute."

"But don't you see us halted, and the bale opened to send it to you? We have come so far from your village that after the tribute is settled we can proceed on our way, as the day is yet young."

The chief burst into a loud laugh, and was joined by ourselves. He evidently felt ashamed of his conduct for he voluntarily offered the explanation, that as he and his men were cutting wood to make a new fence for his village, a lad came up to him, and said that a caravan of Wangwana were about passing through the country without stopping to explain who they were. We were soon very good friends. He begged of me to make rain for him, as his crops were suffering, and no rain had fallen for months. I told him that though white people were very great and clever people, much superior to the Arabs, yet we could not make rain. Though very much disappointed, he did not doubt my statement, and after receiving his honga, which was very light, he permitted us to go on our way, and even accompanied us some distance to show us the road.

At 3 P.M. we entered a thorny jungle; and by 5 P.M. we had arrived at Muhalata, a district lorded over by the chief Nyamzaga. A Mgogo, of whom I made a friend, proved very staunch. He belonged to Mulowa, a country to the S.S.E., and south of Kulabi; and was active in promoting my interests by settling the tribute, with the assistance of Bombay, for me. When, on the next day, we passed through Kulabi on our way to Mvumi, and the Wagogo were about to stop us for the honga, he took upon himself the task of relieving us from further toll, by stating we were from Ugogo or Kanyenyi. The chief simply nodded his head, and we passed on. It seems that the Wagogo do not exact blackmail of those caravans who intend only to trade in their own country, or have no intention of passing beyond their own frontier.

Leaving Kulabi, we traversed a naked, red, loamy plain, over which the wind from the heights of Usagara, now rising a bluish-black jumble of mountains in our front, howled most fearfully. With clear, keen, incisive force, the terrible blasts seemed to penetrate through an through our bodies, as though we were but filmy gauze. Manfully battling against this mighty "peppo "— storm—we passed through Mukamwa's, and crossing a broad sandy bed of a stream, we entered the territory of Mvumi, the last tribute-levying chief of Ugogo.

The 4th of April, after sending Bombay and my friendly Mgogo with eight doti, or thirty-two yards of cloth, as a farewell tribute to the Sultan, we struck off through the jungle, and in five hours we were on the borders of the wilderness of "Marenga Mkali"—the "hard," bitter or brackish, water.

From our camp I despatched three men to Zanzibar with letters to the American Consul, and telegraphic despatches for the 'Herald,' with a request to the Consul that he would send the men back with a small case or two containing such luxuries as hungry, worn-out, and mildewed men would appreciate. The three messengers were charged not to halt for anything—rain or no rain, river or inundation—as if they did not hurry up we should catch them before they reached the coast. With a fervent "Inshallah, bana," they departed.

On the 5th, with a loud, vigorous, cheery "Hurrah!" we plunged into the depths of the wilderness, which, with its eternal silence and solitude, was far preferable to the jarring, inharmonious discord of the villages of the Wagogo. For nine hours we held on our way, starting with noisy shouts the fierce rhinoceros, the timid quagga, and the herds of antelopes which crowd the jungles of this broad salina. On the 7th, amid a pelting rain, we entered Mpwapwa, where my Scotch assistant, Farquhar, died. We had performed the extraordinary march of 338 English statute miles from the 14th of March to the 7th of April, or within twenty-four days, inclusive of halts, which was a little over fourteen miles a day.

Leukole, the chief of Mpwapwa, with whom I left Farquhar, gave the following account of the death of the latter:—

"The white man seemed to be improving after you left him, until the, fifth day, when, while attempting to rise and walk out of his tent, he fell back; from that minute he got worse and worse, and in the afternoon he died, like one going to sleep. His legs and abdomen had swollen considerably, and something, I think, broke within him when he fell, for he cried out like a man who was very much hurt, and his servant said, 'The master says he is dying.'

"We had him carried out under a large tree, and after covering him with leaves, there left him. His servant took possession of his things, his rifle, clothes, and blanket, and moved off to the tembe of a Mnyamwezi, near Kisokweh, where he lived for three months, when he also died. Before he died he sold his master's rifle to an Arab going to Unyanyembe for ten doti (forty yards of cloth). That is all I know about it."

He subsequently showed me the hollow into which the dead body of Farquhar was thrown, but I could not find a vestige of his bones, though we looked sharply about that we might make a decent grave for them. Before we left Unyanyembe fifty men were employed two days carrying rocks, with which I built up a solid enduring pile around Shaw's grave eight feet long and five feet broad, which Dr. Livingstone said would last hundreds of years, as the grave of the first white man who died in Unyamwezi. But though we could not discover any remains of the unfortunate Farquhar, we collected a large quantity of stones, and managed to raise a mound near the banks of the stream to commemorate the spot where his body was laid.

It was not until we had entered the valley of the Mukondokwa River that we experienced anything like privation or hardship from the Masika. Here the torrents thundered and roared; the river was a mighty brown flood, sweeping downward with, an almost resistless flow. The banks were brimful, and broad nullahs were full of water, and the fields were inundated, and still the rain came surging down in a shower, that warned us of what we might expect during our transit of the sea-coast region. Still we urged our steps onward like men to whom every moment was precious—as if a deluge was overtaking us. Three times we crossed this awful flood at the fords by means of ropes tied to trees from bank to bank, and arrived at Kadetamare on the 11th, a most miserable, most woe-begone set of human beings; and camped on a hill opposite Mount Kibwe, which rose on the right of the river—one of the tallest peaks of the range.

On the 12th of April, after six hours of the weariest march I had ever undergone, we arrived at the mouth of the Mukondokwa Pass, out of which the river debouches into the Plain of Makata. We knew that it was an unusual season, for the condition of the country, though bad enough the year before, was as nothing compared to this year. Close to the edge of the foaming, angry flood lay our route, dipping down frequently into deep ditches, wherein we found ourselves sometimes up to the waist in water, and sometimes up to the throat. Urgent necessity impelled us onward, lest we might have to camp at one of these villages until the end of the monsoon rains; so we kept on, over marshy bottoms, up to the knees in mire, under jungly tunnels dripping with wet, then into sloughs arm-pit deep. Every channel seemed filled to overflowing, yet down the rain poured, beating the surface of the river into yellowish foam, pelting us until we were almost breathless. Half a day's battling against such difficulties brought us, after crossing the river, once again to the dismal village of Mvumi.

We passed the night fighting swarms of black and voracious mosquitoes, and in heroic endeavours to win repose in sleep, in which we were partly successful, owing to the utter weariness of our bodies.

On the 13th we struck out of the village of Mvumi. It had rained the whole night, and the morning brought no cessation. Mile after mile we traversed, over fields covered by the inundation, until we came to a branch river-side once again, where the river was narrow, and too deep to ford in the middle. We proceeded to cut a tree down, and so contrived that it should fall right across the stream. Over this fallen tree the men, bestriding it, cautiously moved before them their bales and boxes; but one young fellow, Rojab—through over-zeal, or in sheer madness—took up the Doctor's box which contained his letters and Journal of his discoveries on his head, and started into the river. I had been the first to arrive on the opposite bank, in order to superintend the crossing; when I caught sight of this man walking in the river with the most precious box of all on his head. Suddenly he fell into a deep hole, and the man and box went almost out of sight, while I was in an agony at the fate which threatened the despatches. Fortunately, he recovered himself and stood up, while I shouted to him, with a loaded revolver pointed at his head, "Look out! Drop that bog, and I'll shoot you."

All the men halted in their work while they gazed at their comrade who was thus imperilled by bullet and flood. The man himself seemed to regard the pistol with the greatest awe, and after a few desperate efforts succeeded in getting the box safely ashore. As the articles within were not damaged, Rojab escaped punishment, with a caution not to touch the bog again on any account, and it was transferred to the keeping of the sure-footed and perfect pagazi, Maganga.

From this stream, in about an hour, we came to the main river, but one look at its wild waters was enough. We worked hard to construct a raft, but after cutting down four trees and lashing the green logs together, and pushing them into the whirling current, we saw them sink like lead. We then tied together all the strong rope in our possession, and made a line 180 feet long, with one end of which tied round his body, Chowpereh was sent across to lash it to a tree. He was carried far down the stream; but being an excellent swimmer, he succeeded in his attempt. The bales were lashed around the middle, and, heaved into the stream, were dragged through the river to the opposite bank, as well as the tent, and such things as could not be injured much by the water. Several of the men, as well as myself, were also dragged through the water; each of the boys being attended by the best swimmers; but when we came to the letter-boxes and valuables, we could suggest no means to take them over. Two camps were accordingly made, one on each side of the stream; the one on the bank which I had just left occupying an ant-hill of considerable height; while my party had to content itself with a flat, miry marsh. An embankment of soil, nearly a foot high, was thrown up in a circle thirty feet in diameter, in the centre of which my tent was pitched, and around it booths were erected.

It was an extraordinary and novel position that we found ourselves in. Within twenty feet of our camp was a rising river, with flat, low banks; above us was a gloomy, weeping sky; surrounding us on three sides was an immense forest, on whose branches we heard the constant, pattering rain; beneath our feet was a great depth of mud, black and loathsome; add to these the thought that the river might overflow, and sweep us to utter destruction.

In the morning the river was still rising, and an inevitable doom seemed to hang over us. There was yet time to act—to bring over the people, with the most valuable effects of the Expedition—as I considered Dr. Livingstone's Journal and letters, and my own papers, of far greater value than anything else. While looking at the awful river an idea struck me that I might possibly carry the boxes across, one at a time, by cutting two slender poles, and tying cross sticks to them, making a kind of hand-barrow, on which a box might rest when lashed to it. Two men swimming across, at the same time holding on to the rope, with the ends of the poles resting on the men's shoulders, I thought, would be enabled to convey over a 70 lb. box with ease. In a short time one of these was made, and six couples of the strongest swimmers were prepared, and stimulated with a rousing glass of stiff grog each man, with a promise of cloth to each also if they succeeded in getting everything ashore undamaged by the water. When I saw with what ease they dragged themselves across, the barrow on their shoulders, I wondered that I had not thought of the plan before. Within an hour of the first couple had gone over, the entire Expedition was safe on the eastern bank; and at once breaking camp, we marched north through the swampy forest, which in some places was covered with four feet of water. Seven hours' constant splashing brought us to Rehenneko, after experiencing several queer accidents. We were now on the verge only of the inundated plain of the Makata, which, even with the last year's rain, was too horrible to think of undertaking again in cold blood.

We were encamped ten days on a hill near Rehenneko, or until the 25th, when, the rain having entirely ceased, we resolved to attempt the crossing of the Makata. The bales of cloth had all been distributed as presents to the men for their work, except a small quantity which I retained for the food of my own mess.

But we should have waited a month longer, for the inundation had not abated four inches. However, after we once struggled up to our necks in water it was use less to turn back. For two marches of eight hours each we plunged through slush, mire, deep sloughs, water up to our necks, and muddy cataclysms, swam across nullahs, waded across gullies, and near sunset of the second day arrived on the banks of the Makata River. My people are not likely to forget that night; not one of them was able to sleep until it was long past midnight, because of the clouds of mosquitoes, which threatened to eat us all up; and when the horn sounded for the march of another day, there was not one dissentient amongst them.

It was 5 A.M. when we began the crossing of the Makata River, but beyond it for six miles stretched one long lake, the waters of which flowed gently towards the Wami. This was the confluence of the streams: four rivers were here gathered into one. The natives of Kigongo warned us not to attempt it, as the water was over our heads; but I had only to give a hint to the men, and we set on our way. Even the water—we were getting quite amphibious—was better than the horrible filth and piles of decaying vegetation which were swept against the boma of the village.

We were soon up to our armpits, then the water shallowed to the knee, then we stepped up to the neck, and waded on tiptoe, supporting the children above the water; and the same experiences occurred as those which we suffered the day before, until we were halted on the edge of the Little Makata, which raced along at the rate of eight knots an hour; but it was only fifty yards wide, and beyond it rose a high bank, and dry park-lands which extended as far as Simbo. We had no other option than to swim it; but it was a slow operation, the current was so swift and strong. Activity and zeal, high rewards, presents of money, backed by the lively feeling that we were nearing home, worked wonders, and in a couple of hours we were beyond the Makata.

Cheery and hopeful, we sped along the dry, smooth path that now lay before us, with the ardor and vivacity of heroes, and the ease and power of veterans, We rolled three ordinary marches into one that day, and long before night arrived at Simbo.

On the 29th we crossed the Ungerengeri, and as we came to Simbamwenni-the "Lion City" of Useguhha—lo! what a change! The flooded river had swept the entire front wall of the strongly-walled city away, and about fifty houses had been destroyed by the torrent. Villages of Waruguru, on the slopes of the Uruguru Mountains—Mkambaku range—had also suffered disastrously. If one-fourth of the reports we heard were true, at least a hundred people must have perished.

The Sultana had fled, and the stronghold of Kimbengo was no more! A deep canal that he had caused to be excavated when alive, to bring a branch of the Ungerengeri near his city—which was his glory and boast—proved the ruin of Simbamwenni. After the destruction of the place the river had formed a new bed, about 300 yards from the city. But what astonished us most were the masses of debris which seemed to be piled everywhere, and the great numbers of trees that were prostrate; and they all seemed to lie in the same direction, as if a strong wind had come from the south-west. The aspect of the Ungerengeri valley was completely changed—from a Paradise it was converted into a howling waste.

We continued our march until we reached Ulagalla, and it was evident, as we advanced, that an unusual storm had passed over the land, for the trees in some places seemed to lie in swathes.

A most fatiguing and long march brought us to Mussoudi, on the eastern bank of the Ungerengeri; but long before we reached it we realized that a terrific destruction of human life and property had occurred. The extent and nature of the calamity may be imagined, when I state that nearly ONE HUNDRED VILLAGES, according to Mussoudi's report, were swept away.

Mussoudi, the Diwan, says that the inhabitants had gone to rest as usual—as they had done ever since he had settled in the valley, twenty-five years ago—when, in the middle of the night, they heard a roar like many thunders, which woke them up to the fact that death was at work in the shape of an enormous volume of water, that, like a wall, came down, tearing the tallest trees with it, carrying away scores of villages at one fell, sure swoop into utter destruction. The scene six days after the event—when the river has subsided into its normal breadth and depth during the monsoons—is simply awful. Wherever we look, we find something very suggestive of the devastation that has visited the country; fields of corn are covered with many feet of sand and debris; the sandy bed the river has deserted is about a mile wide; and there are but three villages standing of all that I noticed when en route to Unyanyembe. When I asked Mussoudi where the people had gone to, he replied, "God has taken most of them, but some have gone to Udoe." The surest blow ever struck at the tribe of the Wakami was indeed given by the hand of God; and, to use the words of the Diwan, "God's power is wonderful, and who can resist Him!"

I again resort to my Diary, and extract the following:

April 30th.—Passing Msuwa, we travelled hurriedly through the jungle which saw such hard work with us when going to Unyanyembe. What dreadful odors and indescribable loathing this jungle produces! It is so dense that a tiger could not crawl through it; it is so impenetrable that an elephant could not force his way! Were a bottleful of concentrated miasma, such as we inhale herein, collected, what a deadly poison, instantaneous in its action, undiscoverable in its properties, would it be! I think it would act quicker than chloroform, be as fatal as prussic acid.

Horrors upon horrors are in it. Boas above our heads, snakes and scorpions under our feet. Land-crabs, terrapins, and iguanas move about in our vicinity. Malaria is in the air we breathe; the road is infested with "hotwater" ants, which bite our legs until we dance and squirm about like madmen. Yet, somehow, we are fortunate enough to escape annihilation, and many another traveller might also. Yet here, in verity, are the ten plagues of Egypt, through which a traveller in these regions must run the gauntlet:

1. Plague of boas. 7. Suffocation from the 2. Red ants, or "hot-water." density of the jungle. 3 Scorpions. 8. Stench. 4. Thorns and spear cacti. 9. Thorns in the road. 5. Numerous impediments. 10. Miasma. 6 Black mud knee-deep.

May 1st. Kingaru Hera.—We heard news of a great storm having raged at Zanzibar, which has destroyed every house and every ship,—so the story runs;—and the same destruction has visited Bagamoyo and Whinde, they say. But I am by this time pretty well acquainted with the exaggerative tendency of the African. It is possible that serious loss has been sustained, from the evidences of the effects of the storm in the interior. I hear, also, that there are white men at Bagamoyo, who are about starting into the country to look after me (?). Who would look after me, I cannot imagine. I think they must have some confused idea of my Expedition; though, how they came to know that I was looking for any man I cannot conceive, because I never told a soul until I reached Unyanyembe.

May 2nd. Rosako.—I had barely arrived at the village before the three men I despatched from Mvumi, Ugogo, entered, bringing with them from the generous American Consul a few bottles of champagne, a few pots of jam, and two boxes of Boston crackers. These were most welcome after my terrible experiences in the Makata Valley. Inside one of these boxes, carefully put up by the Consul, were four numbers of the 'Herald'; one of which contained my correspondence from Unyanyembe, wherein were some curious typographical errors, especially in figures and African names. I suppose my writing was wretched, owing to my weakness. In another are several extracts from various newspapers, in which I learn that many editors regard the Expedition into Africa as a myth. Alas! it has been a terrible, earnest fact with me; nothing but hard, conscientious work, privation, sickness, and almost death. Eighteen men have paid the forfeit of their lives in the undertaking. It certainly is not a myth—the death of my two white assistants; they, poor fellows, found their fate in the inhospitable regions of the interior.

One of my letters received from Zanzibar by my messengers states that there is an expedition at Bagamoyo called the "Livingstone Search and Relief Expedition." What will the leaders of it do now? Livingstone is found and relieved already. Livingstone says he requires nothing more. It is a misfortune that they did not start earlier; then they might with propriety proceed, and be welcomed.

May 4th.—-Arrived at Kingwere's Ferry, but we were unable to attract the attention of the canoe paddler. Between our camp and Bagamoyo we have an inundated plain that is at least four miles broad. The ferrying of our Expedition across this broad watery waste will occupy considerable time.

May 5th.—Kingwere, the canoe proprietor, came about 11 A.M. from his village at Gongoni, beyond the watery plain. By his movements I am fain to believe him to be a descendant of some dusky King Log, for I have never seen in all this land the attributes and peculiarities of that royal personage so faithfully illustrated as in Kingwere. He brought two canoes with him, short, cranky things, in which only twelve of us could embark at a time. It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon before we arrived at Gongoni village.

May 6th.—After impressing Kingwere with the urgent necessity of quick action on his part, with a promise of an extra five-dollar gold piece, I had the satisfaction to behold the last man reach my camp at 3.30 p.m.

An hour later, and we are en route, at a pace that I never saw equalled at any time by my caravan. Every man's feelings are intensified, for there is an animated, nay, headlong, impetuosity about their movements that indicates but too well what is going on in their minds. Surely, my own are a faithful index to their feelings; and I do not feel a whit too proud to acknowledge the great joy that possesses me. I feel proud to think that I have been successful; but, honestly, I do not feel so elated at that as at the hope that to-morrow I shall sit before a table bounteous with the good things of this life. How I will glory in the hams, and potatoes, and good bread! What a deplorable state of mind, is it not? Ah, my friend, wait till you are reduced to a skeleton by gaunt famine and coarse, loathsome food—until you have waded a Makata swamp, and marched 525 miles in thirty-five days through such weather as we have had—then you will think such pabula, food fit for gods!

Happy are we that,—after completing our mission, after the hurry and worry of the march, after the anxiety and vexation suffered from fractious tribes, after tramping for the last fifteen days through mire and Stygian marsh,—we near Beulah's peace and rest! Can we do otherwise than express our happiness by firing away gunpowder until our horns are emptied—than shout our "hurrahs" until we are hoarse—than, with the hearty, soul-inspiring "Yambos," greet every mother's son fresh from the sea? Not so, think the Wangwana soldiers; and I so sympathize with them that I permit them to act their maddest without censure.

At sunset we enter the town of Bagamoyo. "More pilgrims come to town," were the words heard in Beulah. "The white man has come to town," were the words we heard in Bagamoyo. And we shall cross the water tomorrow to Zanzibar, and shall enter the golden gate; we shall see nothing, smell nothing, taste nothing that is offensive to the stomach any more!

The kirangozi blows his horn, and gives forth blasts potential as Astolpho's, as the natives and Arabs throng around us. And that bright flag, whose stars have waved over the waters of the great lake in Central Africa, which promised relief to the harassed Livingstone when in distress at Ujiji, returns to the sea once again—torn, it is true, but not dishonoured—tattered, but not disgraced.

As we reached the middle of the town, I saw on the steps of a large white house a white man, in flannels and helmet similar to that I wore. I thought myself rather akin to white men in general, and I walked up to him. He advanced towards me, and we shook hands—did everything but embrace.

"Won't you walk in?" said he.

"Thanks."

"What will you have to drink—beer, stout, brandy? Eh, by George! I congratulate you on your splendid success," said he, impetuously.

I knew him immediately. He was an Englishman. He was Lieut. William Henn, R.N., chief of the Livingstone Search and Relief Expedition, about to be despatched by the Royal Geographical Society to find and relieve Livingstone. The former chief, as the Expedition was at first organized, was Lieut. Llewellyn S. Dawson, who, as soon as he heard from my men that I had found Livingstone, had crossed over to Zanzibar, and, after consultation with Dr. John Kirk, had resigned. He had now nothing further to do with it, the command having formally devolved on Lieut. Henn. A Mr. Charles New, also, missionary from Mombasah, had joined the expedition, but he had resigned too. So now there were left but Lieut. Henn and Mr. Oswell Livingstone, second son of the Doctor.

"Is Mr. Oswell Livingstone here?" I asked, with considerable surprise.

"Yes; he will be here directly."

"What are you going to do now?" I asked.

"I don't think it worth my while to go now. You have taken the wind out of our sails completely. If you have relieved him, I don't see the use of my going. Do you?"

"Well, it depends. You know your own orders best. If you have come only to find and relieve him, I can tell you truly he is found and relieved, and that he wants nothing more than a few canned meats, and some other little things which I dare say you have not got. I have his list in his own handwriting with me. But his son must go anyhow, and I can get men easily enough for him."

"Well, if he is relieved, it is of no use my going."

At this time in walked a slight, young, gentlemanly man, with light complexion, light hair, dark, lustrous eyes, who was introduced to me as Mr. Oswell Livingstone. The introduction was hardly necessary, for in his features there was much of what were the specialities of his father. There was an air of quiet resolution about him, and in the greeting which he gave me he exhibited rather a reticent character; but I attributed that to a receptive nature, which augured well for the future.

"I was telling Lieut. Henn that, whether he goes or not, you must go to your father, Mr. Livingstone."

"Oh, I mean to go."

"Yes, that's right. I will furnish you with men and what stores your father needs. My men will take you to Unyanyembe without any difficulty. They know the road well, and that is a great advantage. They know how to deal with the negro chiefs, and you will have no need to trouble your head about them, but march. The great thing that is required is speed. Your father will be waiting for the things."

"I will march them fast enough, if that is all."

"Oh, they will be going up light, and they can easily make long marches."

It was settled, then. Henn made up his mind that, as the Doctor had been relieved, he was not wanted; but, before formally resigning, he intended to consult with Dr. Kirk, and for that purpose he would cross over to Zanzibar the next day with the 'Herald' Expedition.

At 2 A.M. I retired to sleep on a comfortable bed. There was a great smell of newness about certain articles in the bedroom, such as haversacks, knapsacks, portmanteaus, leather gun-cases, &c. Evidently the new Expedition had some crudities about it; but a journey into the interior would soon have lessened the stock of superfluities, which all new men at first load themselves with.

Ah! what a sigh of relief was that I gave, as I threw myself on my bed, at the thought that, "Thank God! my marching was ended."



CHAPTER XVI. VALEDICTORY.

At 5 P.M., on the 7th of May, 1872, the dhow which conveyed my Expedition back to Zanzibar arrived in the harbor, and the men, delighted to find themselves once more so near their homes, fired volley after volley, the American flag was hoisted up, and we soon saw the house-roofs and wharves lined with spectators, many of whom were Europeans, with glasses levelled at us.

We drew ashore slowly; but a boat putting off to take us to land, we stepped into it, and I was soon in presence of my friend the Consul, who heartily welcomed me back to Zanzibar; and soon after was introduced to the Rev. Charles New, who was but a day or two previous to my arrival an important member of the English Search Expedition—a small, slight man in appearance, who, though he looked weakly, had a fund of energy or nervousness in him which was almost too great for such a body. He also heartily congratulated me.

After a bounteous dinner, to which I did justice in a manner that astonished my new friends, Lieut. Dawson called to see me, and said:

"Mr. Stanley, let me congratulate you, sir."

Lieut. Dawson then went on to state how he envied me my success; how I had "taken the wind out of his sails" (a nautical phrase similar to that used by Lieut. Henn); how, when he heard from my men that Dr. Livingstone had been found, he at once crossed over from Bagamoyo to Zanzibar, and, after a short talk with Dr. Kirk, at once resigned.

"But do you not think, Mr. Dawson, you have been rather too hasty in tendering your resignation, from the more verbal report of my men?"

"Perhaps," said he; "but I heard that Mr. Webb had received a letter from you, and that you and Livingstone had discovered that the Rusizi ran into the lake—that you had the Doctor's letters and despatches with you."

"Yes; but you acquired all this information from my men; you have seen nothing yourself. You have therefore resigned before you had personal evidence of the fact."

"Well, Dr. Livingstone is relieved and found, as Mr. Henn tells me, is he not?"

"Yes, that is true enough. He is well supplied; he only requires a few little luxuries, which I am going to send him by an expedition of fifty freemen. Dr. Livingstone is found and relieved, most certainly; and I have all the letters and despatches which he could possibly send to his friends."

"But don't you think I did perfectly right?"

"Hardly—though, perhaps, it would come to the same thing in the end. Any more cloth and beads than he has already would be an incumbrance. Still, you have your orders from the Royal Geographical Society. I have not seen those yet, and I am not prepared to judge what your best course would have been. But I think you did wrong in resigning before you saw me; for then you would have had, probably, a legitimate excuse for resigning. I should have held on to the Expedition until I had consulted with those who sent me; though, in such an event as this, the order would be, perhaps, to 'Come home.'"

"As it has turned out, though, don't you think I did right?"

"Most certainly it would be useless for you to go to search for and relieve Livingstone now, because he has already been sought, found, and relieved; but perhaps you had other orders."

"Only, if I went into the country, I was then to direct my attention to exploration; but the primary object having been forestalled by you, I am compelled to return home. The Admiralty granted me leave of absence only for the search, and never said anything about exploration."

That evening I despatched a boy over to the English Consulate with letters from the great traveller for Dr. Kirk and Mr. Oswell Livingstone.

I was greeted warmly by the American and German residents, who could not have shown warmer feeling than if Dr. Livingstone had been a near and dear relation of their own. Capt. H. A. Fraser and Dr. James Christie were also loud in their praises. It seems that both of these gentlemen had attempted to despatch a private expedition to the relief of their countryman, but through some means it had failed. They had contributed the sum of $500 to effect this laudable object; but the man to whom they had entrusted its command had been engaged by another for a different purpose, at a higher sum. But, instead of feeling annoyed that I had performed what they had intended to do, they were among my most enthusiastic admirers.

The next day I received a call from Dr. Kirk, who warmly congratulated me upon my success. Bishop Tozer also came, and thanked me for tie service I had rendered to Dr. Livingstone.

On this day I also discharged my men, and re-engaged twenty of them to return to the "Great Master." Bombay, though in the interior he had scorned the idea of money rewards, and though he had systematically, in my greatest need, endeavoured to baffle me in every way, received, besides his pay, a present of $50, and each man, according to his merits, from $20 to $50. For this was a day to bury all animosities, and condone all offences. They, poor people, had only acted according to their nature, and I remembered that from Ujiji to the coast they had all behaved admirably.

I saw I was terribly emaciated and changed when I presented myself before a full-length mirror. All confirmed my opinion that I was much older in my appearance, and that my hair had become grey. Capt. Fraser had said, when I hailed him, "You have the advantage of me, sir!" and until I mentioned my name he did not know me. Even then he jocosely remarked that he believed that it was another Tichborne affair. I was so different that identity was almost lost, even during the short period of thirteen months; that is, from March 23rd, 1871, to May 7th, 1872.

Lieut. Henn the morning after my arrival formally resigned, and the Expedition was from this time in the hands of Mr. Oswell Livingstone, who made up his mind to sell the stores, retaining such as would be useful to his father.

After disbanding my Expedition, I set about preparing another, according to Dr. Livingstone's request. What the English Expedition lacked I purchased out of the money advanced by Mr. Oswell Livingstone. The guns, fifty in number, were also furnished out of the stores of the English Expedition by him; and so were the ammunition, the honga cloth, for the tribute to the Wagogo, and the cloth for provisioning the force. Mr. Livingstone worked hard in the interests of his father and assisted me to the utmost of his ability. He delivered over to me, to be packed up, 'Nautical Almanacs' for 1872, 1873, 1874; also a chronometer, which formerly belonged to Dr. Livingstone. All these things, besides a journal, envelopes, note-books, writing-paper, medicines, canned fruits and fish, a little wine, some tea, cutlery and table ware, newspapers, and private letters and despatches, were packed up in air-tight tin boxes, as well as 100 lbs. of fine American flour, and some boxes of soda biscuits.

Until the 19th of May it was understood that Mr. Oswell Livingstone would take charge of the caravan to his father; but about this date he changed his mind, and surprised me with a note stating he had decided not to go to Unyanyembe, for reasons he thought just and sufficient.

Under these circumstances, my duty was to follow out the instructions of Dr. Livingstone, in procuring a good and efficient leader to take charge of the caravan as far as Unyanyembe.

In a few hours I succeeded in obtaining an Arab highly recommended from Sheikh Hashid, whom I engaged at an advance of $100. The young Arab, though not remarkably bright, seemed honest and able, but I left his further employment after reaching Unyanyembe to Dr. Livingstone, who would be able to decide then whether he was quite trustworthy.

The next day I collected the men of the new Livingstone Expedition together, and as it was dangerous to allow them to wander about the city, I locked them up in a courtyard, and fed them there, until every soul, fifty seven in number, answered to their names.

In the meantime, through the American Consul's assistance, I obtained the services of Johari, the chief dragoman of the American Consulate, who was charged with the conduct of the party across the inundated plain of the Kingani, and who was enjoined on no account to return until the Expedition had started on its march from the western bank of the Kingani River. Mr. Oswell Livingstone generously paid him a douceur for the promise of doing his work thoroughly.

A dhow having been brought to anchor before the American Consulate, I then addressed my old companions, saying, "You are now about to return to Unyanyembe, to the 'Great Master'. You know him; you know he is a good man, and has a kind heart. He is different from me; he will not beat you, as I have done. But you know I have rewarded you all—how I have made you all rich in cloth and money. You know how, when you behaved yourselves well, I was your friend. I gave you plenty to eat and plenty to wear. When you were sick I looked after you. If I was so good to you, the 'Great Master' will be much more so. He has a pleasant voice, and speaks kind. When did you ever see him lift his hand against an offender? When you were wicked, he did not speak to you in anger—he spoke to you in tones of sorrow. Now, will you promise me that you will follow him—do what he tells you, obey him in all things, and not desert him?"

"We will, we will, my master!" they all cried, fervently.

"Then there is one thing more. I want to shake hands with you all before you go—and we part for ever;" and they all rushed up at once, and a vigorous shake was interchanged with each man.

"Now, let every man take up his load!"

In a short time I marched them out into the street, and to the beach; saw them all on board, and the canvas hoisted, and the dhow speeding westward on her way to Bagamoyo.

I felt strange and lonely, somehow. My dark friends, who had travelled over so many hundreds of miles, and shared so many dangers with me, were gone, and I—was left behind. How many of their friendly faces shall I see again?

On the 29th, the steamer 'Africa,' belonging to the German Consulate, was chartered by a party of five of us, and we departed from Zanzibar to Seychelles, with the good wishes of almost all the European residents on the island.

We arrived at Seychelles on the 9th of June, about twelve hours after the French mail had departed for Aden. As there is only monthly communication between Mahe (Seychelles) and Aden, we were compelled to remain on the island of Mahe one month.

My life in Mahe is among the most agreeable things connected with my return from Africa. I found my companions estimable gentlemen, and true Christians. Mr. Livingstone exhibited many amiable traits of character, and proved himself to be a studious, thoughtful, earnest man. When at last the French steamer came from Mauritius, there was not one of our party who did not regret leaving the beautiful island, and the hospitable British officers who were stationed there. The Civil Commissioner, Mr. Hales Franklyn, and Dr. Brooks, did their utmost to welcome the wanderer, and I take this opportunity to acknowledge the many civilities I personally received from them.

At Aden, the passengers from the south were transferred on board the French mail steamer, the 'Mei-kong,' en route from China to Marseilles. At the latter port I was received with open arms by Dr. Hosmer and the representative of the 'Daily Telegraph,' and was then told how men regarded the results of the Expedition; but it was not until I arrived in England that I realised it.

Mr. Bennett, who originated and sustained the enterprise, now crowned it by one of the most generous acts that could be conceived. I had promised Dr. Livingstone, that twenty-four hours after I saw his letters to Mr. Bennett published in the London journals, I would post his letters to his family and friends in England. In order to permit me to keep my plighted word, and in order that there might be no delay in the delivery of his family letters, Mr. Bennett's agent telegraphed to New York the 'Herald' letters I had received from Dr. Livingstone at an expense of nearly 2,000.

And now, dear reader, the time has come for you and I to part. Let us hope that it is not final. A traveller finds himself compelled to repeat the regretful parting word often. During the career recorded in the foregoing book, I have bidden many farewells; to the Wagogo, with their fierce effrontery; to Mionvu, whose blackmailing once so affected me; to the Wavinza, whose noisy clatter promised to provoke dire hostilities; to the inhospitable Warundi; to the Arab slave-traders and half-castes; to all fevers, remittent, and intermittent; to the sloughs and swamps of Makata; to the brackish waters and howling wastes; to my own dusky friends and followers, and to the hero-traveller and Christian gentleman, David Livingstone. It is with kindliest wishes to all who have followed my footsteps on these pages that I repeat once more—Farewell.



CONCLUDING CHAPTER.

The following correspondence, and especially the last letter, which was accompanied by a beautiful and valuable gold snuff-box set with brilliants, will be treasured by me as among the pleasantest results of my undertaking.

H. M. S.

Foreign Office, August 1.

Sir, I am directed by Earl Granville to acknowledge the receipt of a packet containing letters and despatches from Dr. Livingstone, which you were good enough to deliver to her Majesty's ambassador at Paris for transmission to this department; and I am to convey to you his Lordship's thanks for taking charge of these interesting documents.

I am, Sir,

Your most obedient humble servant, ENFIELD.

Henry M. Stanley, Esq., 'New York Herald Bureau,' 46, Fleet Street, London,

———ooo——



London, August 2.

Henry M. Stanley, Esq., has handed to me to-day the diary of Dr. Livingstone, my father, sealed and signed by my father, with instructions written on the outside, signed by my father, for the care of which, and for all his actions concerning and to my father, our very best thanks are due. We have not the slightest reason to doubt that this is my father's journal, and I certify that the letters he has brought home are my father's letters, and no others.

Tom S. Livingstone

——————oooo———-

August 2, 1872.

Sir, I was not aware until you mentioned it that there was any doubt as to the authenticity of Dr. Livingstone's despatches, which you delivered to Lord Lyons on the 31st of July. But, in consequence of what you said I have inquired into the matter, and I find that Mr. Hammond, the Under-Secretary of the Foreign Office, and Mr. Wylde, the head of the Consular and Slave Trade Department, have not the slightest doubt as to the genuineness of the papers which have been received from Lord Lyons, and which are being printed.

I cannot omit this opportunity, of expressing to you my admiration of the qualities which have enabled you to achieve the object of your mission, and to attain a result which has been hailed with so much enthusiasm both in the United States and in this country.

I am, Sir,

Your obedient,

GRANVILLE.

Henry Stanley, Esq.

——————-oooo———-

Foreign Office, August 27.

SIR,

I have great satisfaction in conveying to you, by command of the Queen, her Majesty's high appreciation of the prudence and zeal which you have displayed in opening a communication with Dr. Livingstone, and relieving her Majesty from the anxiety which, in common with her subjects, she had felt in regard to the fate of that distinguished traveller.

The Queen desires me to express her thanks for the service you have thus rendered, together with her Majesty's congratulations on your having so successfully carried on the mission which you fearlessly undertook. Her Majesty also desires me to request your acceptance of the memorial which accompanies this letter.

I am, Sir,

Your most obedient humble servant,

GRANVILLE



GLOSSARY.

Boma . . . . . . . enclosure.

Bubu . . . . . . . black beads.

Diwan . . . . . . elder, chief, or magistrate.

Doti . . . . . . four yards of cloth.

Dowa . . . . . . medicine.

Fundo . . . . . . ten necklaces, or ten khetes.

Ghulabio . . . . . a species of bead.

Hafde . . . . . a species of bead.

Hamal . . . . . carrier.

Honga . . . . . tribute.

Ismahili . . . . . a native name for a particular kind of cloth.

Kadunguru . . . . . a brick-coloured species of bead.

Kaif-Halek . . . . "How do you do?"

Kaniki . . . . a blue cloth manufactured in India.

Knambi . . . . camp.

Khete . . . . one necklace, or a tenth of a fundo.

Kichuma-chuma . . . "Little Irons," a disease of the liver.

Kirangozi . . . . guide.

Kitambi . . . . a cloth.

Kiti . . . . . stool.

Lakhio . . . . . a pink-coloured species of bead.

Lunghio . . . . . blue beads.

Lunghio mbamba . . . small blue beads.

Lunghio rega . . . large blue beads.

M . . . . . a prefix to denote a person of any country as M-jiji, a native of Jiji.

Manyapara . . . . elder, or sub-chief.

Matama . . . . . Holcus sorghum, or the Arabic dourra.

Mbembu . . . . . forest peach

Merikani . . . . . unbleached domestics manufactured in America.

Mganga . . . . . a medicine man, or magic doctor,

Miezi-Mungu . . . . a Kisawahili term for "God."

Mtemi . . . . a term synonymous with king

Mtoni . . . . . nullah.

Muhongo . . . . . tribute.

Mulungu . . . . . a native term for "God."

Mukunguru . . . . intermittent fever.

Mvuha . . . . . thunder.

Ngombe . . . . . a cow.

Pagazi . . . . . a porter, or carrier.

Posho . . . . . food.

Sami-Sami . . . . the name of red beads

Shamba . . . . . a field.

Shasr . . . . . a muslin cloth.

Sheikh . . . . . a title of courtesy given to an elderly man.

Shukka . . . . . two yards of cloth.

Sohari . . . . . a kind of coloured cloth.

Sungomazzi . . . . large glass or china beads of the size of marbles.

Toujiri . . . . . the name for a particular kind of cloth.

U . . . . . a prefix to denote the country: thus U-jiji signifies the country of Jiji.

Uganga . . . . . medicine.

Wa- . . . . . a prefix to denote persons: thus Wa-jiji would signify people of Jiji.

Washeni . . . . . a term of contempt applied to the natives.

Yambo . . . . . "How are you?"

Ziwa . . . . . a pool, or lake,

Ziwari . . . . . a pond.



APPENDIX.

List of Camps from Bagamoyo to Ujiji and back to the Sea.

THROUGH UKWERE, UKAMI, AND UDOE TO USEGUHHA.

From Bagamoyo to— h. m. Shamba Gonera . . . 1 30 Kikoka . . . . . 3 40 Rosako . . . . . 5 0 Kingaru . . . . 6 0 Imbiki . . . . . 4 30 Msuwa . . . . . 4 30

From Msuwa to— h. m. Kisemo . . . . . 4 30 Mussoudi . . . . 4 20 Mikeseh . . . . 7 0 Muhalleh . . . . 6 45 Simbamwenni . . . 3 0

TO UGOGO.

USEGUHA, Ungerengeri River to— h. m Simbo . . . . . 2 0 Camp in plain . . . 4 10 Makata River . . . 2 30

USAGARA. Camp west of Makata. 0 5 Camp in plain . . . 4 30 Camp " " . . . 2 0 Rehenneko . . . . 3 15 Rehenneko to— h. m. Camp on mountain . . 3 30 Kiora . . . . . 3 40 Camp on river . . . 4 50 Madete . . . . . 2 30 Lake Ugombo. . . . 3 0 Matamombo . . . . 6 0 Mpwapwa . . . . . 7 0 Kisokweh . . . . 2 0 Chunyo . . . . . 1 30

FROM UGOGO TO UNYANYEMBE,

From Marenga Mkali to—h. m. Mvumi, Little Ugogo 12 30 Mvumi, Great Ugogo 4 0 Matamburu " " . 4 0 Bihawana " " . 4 0 Kididimo " " . 2 0 Pembera Pereh " . 10 0 Mizanza " " . 5 30 Mukondoku " " . 6 30 Munieka " " . 5 0 Mabunguru Mtoni . Uyanzi 8 0 Kiti, Uyanzi . . . 6 30 Msalalo . . . . 6 30

From Msalalo to— h. m. Welled Ngaraiso . . 3 30 Kusuri . . . . . 3 15 Mgongo Tembo . . . 3 30 " " Mtoni . 3 30 Nghwhalah Mtoni . . 2 40 Madedita . . . 2 30 Central Tura, Unyam- wezi . . . . 3 0 Kwala River . . . 7 0 Rubuga . . . . 7 15 Kigwa . . . . 5 0 Shiza . . . . 7 0 Kwihara . . . . 3 0

UNYANYEMBE TO MRERA, UKONONG0.

UNYAMWEZI. From Kwihara to— h. m. Mkwenkwe . . . 1 30 Inesuka . . . 2 0 Kasegera . . . 3 0 Kigandu . . . 2 45 Ugunda . . . 7 0 Benta . . . 3 15 Kikuru . . . 5 0 Ziwani . . . 4 0 Manyara . . . 6 30

UKONONG0. From Manyara to— h. m Gombe River . . . 4 15 Ziwani . . . . 5 20 Tongoni . . . . 1 30 Camp . . . . 5 15 Marefu . . . . 3 0 Utende . . . . 7 15 Mtoni . . . . 4 0 Mwaru . . . . 5 15 Mrera . . . . . 5 13

FROM MRERA, UKONONGO TO UJIJI.



UKONONGO, h. m.

From Mrera to Mtoni . 4 30 Misonghi . . . . 4 30 Mtoni . . . . . 6 0 Mpokwa in Utanda . . 4 45 Mtoni . . . . 3 0

UKAWENDI. h. m

Mtambu River . . . 4 30 Imrera . . . . 4 20 Rusawa Mts. . . . 2 30 Mtoni . . . . 4 0 Mtoni . . . . 5 0 Camp in Forest . . . 6 0 Camp in Forest . . . 5 30

UVINZA Welled Nzogera . . . 2 30 Camp in Forest . . . 4 15 Siala [Kiala?] on the Malagarazi . . . 2 45 Ihata Island in the Malagarazi . . . 1 30 Katalambula . . . 1 45

UHHA Kawanga in Uhha . . 5 30 Lukomo . . . . 1 0 Kahirigi . . . . 4 0 Rusugi River . . . 5 0 Lake Musunya . . . 4 0 Rugufu River . . . 4 30 Sunuzzi " . . . 3 0 Niamtaga Ukaranga . 9 30

UJIJI. Port of Ujiji . . 6 0



INDEX

Abdul Kader, tailor of the Expedition; retirement of, Abdullah bin Nasib, Acacia Horrida, African bridges, Ali bin Salim, Ambari, Amer bin Sultan, type of an old Arab Sheikh, Amram bin Mussood, Ant-hills, remarkable, Ants, white, destructiveness of, Arabs, antipathy to, as slave-traders, in Africa, Aranselar, chief butler of the Expedition, Asmani, giant statue of; his murderous deportment,

Baba (Father), term of courtesy in addressing elderly persons, Bagamoyo, French Mission Station at; life at; climate of, Bambarre, ivory depot, Bana Mikuba, the "Big Master,' Bangwe Island, Bangweolo Lake, Banyans, keen trading of; their influence on African trade, Baobab, fruit of the, Baruti, one of Speke's Faithfuls, death of, Beads as currency in the Interior, Bees, attack of, on the caravan, Bemba, wooded hills of, Bennet, Mr. James Gordon; generous act of, in respect to Dr. Livingstone's letters, Benta forest, Bihawana, Bikari, cluster of villages, "Bombay," or Mombay, Bomboma's village, Borassus flabelliformis, or Palmyra palm, Brooks, Dr., Buffalo gnats, ——herd, Bunder Salaam, cook of the Expedition, Burial ceremonies, Burton, Capt., experience of Bunyans, Bustard,

Cazembe, King; his Queen and her Amazons, Chamati Hill, Chambezi, drainage of, Chambezi, Livingstone's difficulty about the, "Charley's" lodging-house at Zanzibar, kindly spirit of its landlord, Chowpereh, Mgwana soldier, , Christie, Dr., physician to Seyd Burghash Chufwa fly, Chuma, Dr. Livingstone's servant, Cloth as currency in the interior, Comorines, Corn-grinding women of Kisemo, Crocodile, narrow escape of author from,

'Daily Telegraph,' representative of, at Aden, Dawson, Lieut., visit from, conversation as to his resigning command of the Search Expedition Dhows, Dilima Peaks, Dogara, or whitebait, Donkeys, equipment of; fine breed of, in Ubanarama, "Dowa," medicine,

Earwigs, plague of, at Mpwapwa, Elephantiasis common in Zanzibar, Elephants, herd of; difficulty of shooting, Emancipation Proclamation of Ahraham Lincoln, Esau, Jemadar,

Farquhar, W. L.; his death; account of, Faulkner, Mr., incredible statements of, Ferajji, Fire-arms, what most suitable to the traveller Fish-eagle, Forest peach, Forest scenery of Unyarnwezi, Foreign Office, letters from, Franklyn, Mr. Hales, Fraser, Capt., Freiligrath's description of the lion's habitat, French Mlissionaries, practical character of; Mission Station at Bagamoyo,

Giraffes, difficulty of killing, Glossina mortisans, or tsetse fly Goma Pass; Granville, Lord, letter from, conveying the thanks of Queen Victoria and the announcement of the Royal present, Goodhue, Mr., or "Bana Mkuba,"

Haematite, Half-castes, contemptible character Halimah, Dr. Livingstone's cook, Hassan, the Mseguhha, Henn Lieut, his meeting with the author; resigns the leadership Herembe, Cape, Herodotus, his account of the Nile sources, Hindis, Mohammedan, cheating character of, Hippopotami Honey-bird; habits of, Honga, or tribute , Hosmer, Dr., Hunters Paradise, the, Hyaenas,

Ibrahim bin Rashid slain, Ihata Island, Imbiki, Itage village,

Jako, employe of the Expedition, Jesuit Mission at Pagamoyo, Jiweh la Singa district, Johari, dragoman, Jumah, Jungle of Msuwa, its horrors,

Kabogi, Cape, Kabogo Mountain, singular phenomenon of, Kadetamare, or Misonghi, village, . Kahirigi, boma of, Kaif-Halek or "How-do-ye-do," the letter carrier, Kalulu, the boy-slave, Kamolondo Lake, Kanengi River, Kaniyaga village Kanjee, Kanyamabengu River, Kanyenyi, Kayeh, a myth, Kasera ridge, Katanga, copper mines of, Katangara Islands, Kavimba, Khamis bin Abdullah; his death, Khamisi, desertion of; his narrow escape; flogged for desertion; precis of character, Khonze, remarkable globes of foliage at Kiala, chief, Kigoma Bay, Kigonda, chief, Kigwena River, Kikoka village, Kikuma River, Kingari River, —— Valley, Kingaru village Kingwere, the canoe paddler Kiora village,; Peak Kirindo, chief, Kirurumo village, Kisabengo, chief, a minor Theodore, Kisemo village; belles of, Kisuka village, Kisunwe River, Kitanda or bedstead, Kitii defile, Kitunda Cape, Kiwyeh, Sultan of; village, Kiwrima Valley, Kolquall or candelabra tree, Kudu, Kukumba Point, Kulabi, Kusuri or Konsuli, Kwala Mtoni, Kwikuru,

Lares and Penates of the Wazavira, Leukole's account of Farquhar's death, Liemba, Lake, Lincoln, Abraham, lake named after, by Livingstone, Lion and leopard, home of the; Freiligrath's description of, Liuche, valley of the, Livingstone, Dr., the author's first interview with, at Ujiji; his anxiety for news; the low ebb of his resources; his early rising; took the author for an emissary of the French Government; his hard fare; his suffering and privations; revival of his enthusiasm; his guileless character; his physical appearance, ; absurd report of his marriage, his general character and careful observations; sensitiveness of criticism; amiable traits of his character, and his Spartan heroism; his high spirits, inexhaustible humour, and retentive memory; sincerity of his religion; ability to withstand the African climate, due to his temperate life; his determination to complete his task, spite of all difficulties, completeness of his discoveries; summary of his experiences; interview with King Cazembe; difficulty as to the Chambezi; discovery of Lake Liemba; investigation of the Luapula; intervention in behalf of Mahomed bin Sali repaid by base ingratitude; exploration of Uguhha; sufferings at Bambarre, discovery of the Lualaba, description of the beauties of Moero scenery; admiration of Abraham Lincoln; his belief that the Lualaba or Webb's River is the true Nile; his admission that the Nile sources have not been found; his opinion as to the account of Herodotus; thwarted by the cowardice of his men; return to Ujiji; dishonesty of Sherif; destitute condition of the Doctor, his complaint of the Zanzibar people not sending him freemen; improvement of his health from more generous diet, contemplated cruise on the Tanganika; start from Ujiji; liability to dysentery; manner of dealing with demands for honga; loss of stores, &c., from Bombay's intoxication his unwillingness to retaliate on the hostile natives, his tenderness in sickness, disturbed in bed by his servant Susi in a state of intoxication; his opinion that the Tanganika must have an outlet; names the Kavunvweh islands the "New York Herald Islets,"; his coolness at the hostility of the Wasansi, calms them down by his gentle bearing and conversation; his resolve to finish his task, ; complaint of Dr. Kirk's sending only slaves; resolves to accompany the author to Unyanyembe; his sufferings on the road; at Mpokwa's village, ; his value as a travelling companion; stung by wild bees; his qualifications as a traveller, peaceful recollections of his wife's grave, his relation of incidents of the life of his son Robert; arrival at Ugundo, letters from Dr. Kirk and home; welcome to Unyanyembe; in comfortable quarters and in possession of stores; wreck of the stores detained by Sayd bin Salim; in possession of four years' store of supplies; his letter to Mr. Bennett, jun.; probable results of his perseverance in African discovery; his last day with the author; his intentions as to the future; the parting farewell, Livingstone, Mr. Oswell, introduction to; equipment of his proposed expedition; determines to resign, Livingstone, Robert Moffatt, incidents of his life, Lizard, large, Loeki or Lomani River, Lualaba or "Webb's River" of Livingstone; thought by him to be the true Nile, Luapula River, Lubilash River, Ludha Damji, Lufira River, Luhanga Peak, Lukomo village, Luvumba Cape,

Mabruki, cruel treatment of; Mabunguru Nullah, Madedita, Magala, Mutware of, Maganga, Magunda Mkali, Mahommed bin Sali, his release by Livingstone and subsequent ingratitude, Maizun, Mons., Makata Valley; River; Plain, Makumbi, chief, Malagash, Inlet, Malagarazi River, Manyuema country, people of; the El Dorado of the Arabs; sought as slaves, Maganga, Marefu, Marenga Mkali, Masangi, Masika, or rainy season, Matamombo, Mazitu, marauding propensities of, Mbawala, species of antelope, Mbembu, or forest peach, Mdaburu River, Medicine for daubing warriors, Mfuto, Eastern, Mgongo Tembo, or "Elephant's Back," Mgwana, Mikiseh, Mionvu, Mutware of Kimenyi, Mirambo; defeated at Mfuto, Misonghi, deserted village, Mizanza, Mkuti River, Mkuyu, gigantic sycamore, Moero Lake; beauty of the scenery, Mohammed bin Abdulla slain, Mohammed bin Gharib, Monkeys, troop of, Morris, Hon. E. J., Mpokwa River, Mponda, chief, Mpwapwh, its fruitfulness; Mountains, Mrera, chief, —-, warriors of, Msuwa, Mtemi, chief, Mud-fish, Mugere River, Mugeyo village, Mugihewa territory, Mukamba, chief, Mukondoku, chief, Mukondokwa Range; Pass; River, Mukungu, Mukunguru, African intermittent fever, Munieka, Muniyi Usagara, Murembwe Cape; Point, Musa, chief of the Johanna men, Muscat Arabs of Zanzibar, Mussoudi, the Diwan's account of an extraordinary flood, Musunya Lake, Muzimu Island, Mvumi village, Mwaru, Myombo tree, Mussoud bin Abdhullah, Mussoudi; beautiful prospect at,

"Nazi-Moya" at Zanzibar, Negroes of Zanzibar; character of, New, Rev. Charles, introduction to, "New York Herald" Islets, Ngaraiso village, Nghwhalah River, Nguru Peak, Niamtaga, Niasanga village, Niongo, Nondo, Spoke's runaway, Nyabigma Island, Nyambwa, Nzoe, antelope of Speke,

"Omar," Mr. Stanley's watchdog; death of,

Pallah buck, Pembera Pereh, Sultan, Perpusilla, the, Piaggia, the Italian traveller, Pisolitic limestone, Pottery, native, of the Wazavira, Price, Simon, Dr. Livingstone's servant,

Queen Victoria, letter conveying the thanks of Her Majesty and the announcement of the Royal present,

Rehenneko village, Rosako village, Rua country; people, Rubeho Slopes; Peak, Rubuga, Rudewa River, Rugufu Lake, Ruhinga, chief, Rusizi River; problem of; delta of,

Said bin Majid, Salim bin Rashid, Sultana of Simbamwenni, Sami-sami, red beads, Sayf, son of Ali, slain, Sayd bin Salim's house, Selim, interpreter, ——, the Arab boy, Seyd Burghash, Sultan of Zanzibar, Sitting on pombe, Sentakeyi, Cape, Shaw, J. W.; leaves the expedition, Shamba Gonera, or, "Gonera's Field," good disposition of the Indian widow towards the whites; appearance of the place, trade, &c., Sheikh Sayd bin Selim, ——- Hamed, ——- Hassid, ——- Khamis bin Abdullah, ——- bin Nasib, ——- Sulton bin Ali, ——- Thani, Sherif, Dr. Livingstone's servant; dishonesty of, Shiza, Sigunga, Simbamwenni; desolation of by flood, —————, Sultana of, Simba, ruler of Kasera, Simbo, Simbo, Khambi, Singwe, a plum-like fruit, Slave-gang, chained, Sofi beads, Somalis; Soor Hadji Palloo, Soud, the Arab, ——, son of Sayd bin Majid, ——, bin Sayd, his attack on Wilyankura; his death, Speke, Capt., his "Faithfuls"; treatment of "Bombay" by; error of, as to altitude of Tanganika, Stanley, Mr., start from Bombay; landing at Zanzibar; hospitable reception by Capt. Webb; impressions of the city; organization of the Expedition; visit to the Sultan; departure from Zanzibar; landing at Bagamoyo; troublesome experiences; visit to the "Livingstone caravan"; preparations for departure into the interior, difficulties with employes; chase after a thief, despatch of four caravans; departure of the fifth caravan, led by himself; members composing it and outfit; the start, first camp; Shamba Gonera; crossing the Kingani; hippopotami shooting; Kikoka village; halt at Rosako; "Omar" watchdog, missing; formidable number of insects, the tsetse-fly; game hunting; difficulty of penetrating an African jungle; camp at Kingaru; the grey Arab horse, and offence given by its interment; interview with the king of Kingaru; loss of the re maiming horse from cancer; desertion and sickness; appearance of Maganga's caravan march to Imbiki; reach Msuwa, perils of the jungle, astonishment of the chief; chained slave-gang; halt at Kisemo; belle of; narrow escape of Khamisi; flogged for desertion; reach Mussoudi; beautiful prospect; cross the Ungerengeri start for Mikeseh; Ulagalla and Muhalleh; overtake Maganga's caravan; meet with Selim bin Rashid, news of Livingstone; pass town of Simbamwenni; its fortifications; curiosity of the inhabitants; two days' halt and overhaul of the luggage, attack of ague; visit of ambassadors of the Sultana of Simbamwenni; wretched encampment on the Ungerengeri; difficulty of crossing the river; Makata Valley; loss of Bombay's equipage,; difficulties of the Makata Valley; escape and capture of Kingaru; emerge from the swamp Makata, attack of dysentery, halt at Reheneko; ascent of the Usagara Mountains; Mukondokwa Valley and River; Kiora; camp at, illness of Farquhar; ford of the Mukondokwa River; Madete, Lake of Ugombe; departure from Ugombo; camp at Matamombo, death of of the dog "Omar"; Sheikh Thani in clover at Mpwapwa, a good breakfast and dinner, Farquhar left to be nursed; twelve pagazis engaged, abundance of earwigs and white ants; Chunyo, badness of the water; Marenga Mkali waterless district; attack of fever; Ugogo; frantic conduct of the population; West Mvumi; the Sultan's exorbitant demand of honda; Matamburu, reasonableness of the Sultan of; Bihiwana; attack of intermittent fever; Kididimo, bleak aspect and bad water; Nyambwa, demonstrativeness of the people; Mizanza; benefit from quinine; visit from the Sultan; Little Mukondoku; Mukondoku Proper; commotion and cowardice; uproar in the camp; debate as to route; threatened mutiny; Munieka; Mabunguru Nullah; Unyambogi; Kiti, Msalalo; Ngaraiso, Kirurumo, greeting from the villagers; interview with Sultan bin Mahommed; halt at Kusuri, and Mgongo Tembo; Nghwhalah Mtoni, abundance of sweet, water; Madedita, tsete-fly troublesome; reach Unyamwezi territory at Eastern Tura, cultivated region; Nondo, Speke's runaway; Central Tura, attempted night robbery, a thief shot dead; pass Western Tura; Kwala Mtoni, mud-fish; illness of the tailor, Abdul Kader, he wishes to give up his post; Rubuga, desolation of, since Burton's visit; meeting with Amer bin Sultan, Kigwa, wasted condition of; Shiza, pastoral aspect of, visit from the Sultan; rejoicings in camp on reaching Unyanyembe territory; life in Unyanyembe; breakfast and gossip with Sayd bin Salim; Kazeh, a myth; leave Kwikuru; in comfortable quarters; visit from the Tabora Arab magnates; Tabora, chief Arab settlement in central Africa; attend a council of war, feast at the close of the council; return to Kwihara; the Livingstone caravan's halt of 100 days; attack of fever; preparations for the march; warlike demonstration; Eastern Mfuto, illness of Shaw, personnel of the army; Umanda, medicine daubing; war harangue; Zimbizo, attack on the village; fate of Soud bin Sayd and his Arabs; retreat and stormy councils of war; further retreat of the Arabs to Tabora, serious position of the Expedition; intelligence of Livingstone; news of death of Farquhar; illness of Shaw, attack of Mirambo on Tabora; Khamis bin Abdullah, &c., slain; preparations for Mirambo's threatened attack on Kwihara; visit to Sheikh bin Nassib; retreat of Mirambo, determination to lead a flying caravan to Ujiji; apathy of Shaw, visit to Thani bin Abdullah, arrival of letters; death of Baruti, evil reports by the Arabs; present of a boy-slave; defeat of Mirambo at Mfuto; nursing experiences: farewell feast at Unyanyembe; march to Ujiji commenced by southern route; list of "braves" of the Expedition; Bombay's tender passion; the start; Shaw shows the white feather; Kinyamwezi village, attack of fever; arrest of runaways, threat of slave-chain; Inesuka, further desertions, punishment, withdrawal of Abdul Kader, the tailor; sickness in camp, adverse appearances; Kasegara, rejoicings at; Kigandu, Shaw's by-play; his withdrawal; beauty of Unyamwezi forest scenery; Ugunda; Benta; Kikuru, the mukunguru or fever; camp at Ziwani; gigantic sycamore; Manyara, cultivated region; difficulty of buying provisions; visit of Mtemi; his astonishment at the author's medicine-chest; Gombe River, its beautiful neighbourhood; narrow escape from a crocodile, suspicious-looking natives; a peaceful camp-scene; symptoms of revolt at starting onwards; murderous aspect of Asmani and Mabruki; the march- resumed; sketch of the principal men of the Expedition; Ziwani (pool), waterless condition of; Tongoni, abundance of honey-birds; Marefu, rumours of war in our front; march through a forest abounding with peach-trees; Utende village; Mwaru, supposed report of Livingstone, Mrera's district, wild elephants; Selim falls ill, start from Mrera north-westward; confidence restored in the camp, remarkable ant-hills; camp in the jungle; embassy from Simba; Uzavira, ruined neighbourhood of; Misonghi; Mpokwa River, deserted village near; Mtambu stream, its beauty; attack by a leopard; shot at a wild boar; proximity of lions; Itaga village, beginning of troubles, shortness of provisions, "Welled Nzogera's" village, abundant supplies; crossing a marsh; reach the Malagarazi; heavy exaction of the chief Kiala; island of Ihata, fresh demands for ferriage; donkey seized by crocodile; Uvinza, news of Livingstone, departure from the Malagarazi; country of Uhha; halt at Kawanga; halt on the Pombwe stream, interview with Mionvu; exorbitant demand of honga; cross the Kanengi River; more claims of honga; departure by stealth; Kanengi River; cross the Rusugi; Lake Musunya, Rugufu River, Kabogo Mountain, singular phenomenon of; Sunuzzi River; enter Ukaranga; beauty of the landscape; Mkute River, Niamtaga, alarm of the people; first view of the Tanganika, Port of Ujiji in view; salute announcing the approach of the caravan; meeting with Susi, the servant of Dr. Livingstone; excitement of the inhabitants; appearance of the Doctor; the introduction; conversation; the over-due letter-bag, 365 days from Zanzibar; budget of news; intercourse with Livingstone; suggestions as to his future course; start with Livingstone for cruise on the Tanganika; pass Bangwe Island; wooded hills of Bemba; camp at Niasanga; Nyabigma Island; Mukungu; loss of valuables from Bombay's intoxication; hostile demonstrations of the Bikari people; bivouac on the shore disturbed by natives; round Cape Sentakeyi, and sleep at Mugeyo; Magala, hospitality of the people, visit of the Mutware of; rumours of wars; Kisiku, native report as to the Rusizi River; Mugere, delta of the; visit Mukamba, attacked by fever and experience Livingstone's tenderness; Susi's drunken fit; Mugihewa territory on the delta of the Rusizi; visit of the chief Ruhinga, his geographical information; exploration of the Rusizi debouchure: Kukubma Point, enchanting scenery near; halt at Bemba, superstition of the Wajiji; 'New York Herald Islets,' so named by Livingstone; Cape Luvumba hostile aspect of the Wasansi, return to Ujiji, domestic and foreign news; at home with Livingstone; preparations for march to Unyanyembe; attack of fever; Christmas-day at Ujiji; the departure; meet with Mohammed bin Gharib; Sirgunga, beautiful aspect of; sport at Urimba; homeward bound; an elephant herd; Ukawendi, luxuriance of its vegetation; painful march to Imrera; a giraffe shot; severe attack of fever, the Doctor's prescription; the caravan attacked by bees; Mrera, meeting with caravan sent by Sayd bin Habid, exchange of news, encounter a lion; Ugunda, the deserter Hamdallah retaken; receipt of letters and newspapers; welcome to Unyanyembe; stores found tampered with; a second Christmas celebration, four years' stores of supplies turned over to the Doctor, commission to enlist at Zanzibar fifty freemen as his carriers; farewell dance of natives; choragic adieu of the Wanyamwezi; last night with Livingstone; the last walk in his company, the farewell; a letter from the Doctor; Ngaraiso, hostility of the Wakimbu, enter Ugogo; warlike demonstrations, march of warriors arrayed for the fight; Khonze, its gigantic tree-foliage; determined mode of dealing with the chief successfull; Kanyenyi, cordial reception by the Msagira of; Mapanga, hostile demonstration; asked to act as rain-maker; Kulabi, suffer from a "peppo"; Marenga Mkali; Mpwapwa, death of Farquhar; Mukondokwa valley, experience of the Masika; Makata plain, battling with the floods; Mvumi village, fighting with mosquitoes; the Doctor's despatches in danger; a perilous ford; ten days' camp at Rehenneko, difficulties of the march to the Makata River; arrive at Simbo, cross the Unkerengere, and reach Simbamwenni, its desolated aspect; Ulagalla, extraordinary devastation by flood; Msuwa, horrors of its jungle; Kingaru Hera, news of the Zanzibar storm; Rosako, welcome consignment from the American Consul; ill-natured criticisms, information as to the "Livingstone Search and Relief Expedition"; Ringweare's ferry, a watery waste, four miles broad; welcome to Bagamoyo; meeting with Lieut. Henn; introduction to Mr. Oswell Livingstone; the march ended; welcome at Zanzibar, the American Consul and Rev. C. New; congratulation of Lieut. Dawson; discussion as to his resignation; visit from Dr. Kirk and Bishop Tozer, change in the author's appearance on his return; preparations for Mr. O. Livingstone's Expedition, his resignation, selection of an Arab leader, farewell to old travelling companions; departure from Zanzibar in the 'Africa'; reach Seychelles, a month's delay at Mahe, agreeable intercourse; reach England via Aden and Marseilles. Sultan bin Mohammed, Sultan of Zanzibar, Mr. Stanley's interview with, Sunuzzi stream, Susi, Dr. Livingstone's servant, Swaruru, Sultan, Sycamore, gigantic,

Tabora, Tagamoyo, massacre of the Wamanyuema by, Tanganika Lake, first visit to; cruise on, with Dr. Livingstone, Tarya Topan, integrity of Thani bin Abdullah, , Tongoni, deserted clearing, Tozer, Bp., his residence at Zanzibar; his congratulations at the author's success, Trade, mode of conducting, in Africa, Tsetse fly, Tura, Eastern; Central, ; Western or Tura Perro;

Udoe, cones of, "Uganga," or charm, Ugombo, Lake; Peak, Plain, Ugunda village, Uhha, king of, Ujiji, port of, Ukaranga territory, its beautiful aspect, Ukawendi country, scenery of, Ulagalla district, Ulimengo, absconding slave, Unamapokera, friendliness of, Ungerengeri River; Valley, Urundi Mountains, Unyamwezi forest scenery, beauty of; territory, Unyambogi, Urimba, camp at, Usagara Mountains, Utende village, Uwelasia River, Uyanzi, Magunda Mkali; or "Hot Field," Uyoweh, Mirambo of, Uzavira, village in,

Waganga, or medicine men; filthy war-potion, concocted by, Wagogo tribe, villages of, Wagtails regarded as birds of good omen, Waguhha tribe, Wagunda tribe, Wahumba tribe, Wajiji tribe, Wakimbu of Tura, rascality of, ———- tribe; villages of, Wakonongo, Wamanyuema, fondness of, for marketing, Wangwana village, ———- tribe, gormandizing of the, Wanyamwezi tribe, their superstitious aversion to antelope meat, War, council of, at Tabora, Warfare, tame mode of conducting, Wa-Ruga-Ruga, Wasawahili tribe, Wasansi tribe, Waseguhha tribe, Washenshi tribe, Wasungu tribe, Wavinza tribe, greed of Wavira tribe, Webb, Capt. F. R., U.S. Consul, his hospitality and courtesy, ——, Mr. of Newstead Abbey, river named after him, ——, Mrs., Wagogo, cool impudence of the, Wilderness, African, more favourable to the traveller than the populated country, Wild-boar shooting, Wilyankuru, attack on, Wire, high valve of, in the interior,

Zanzibar city view of, from the bay, harbor "Charley's" lodging house, ; character of the street and population, trade, "M'nazi Moya"; house of Bishop Tozer, mart of the interior, mode of commerce unchanged for ages; population; filth and unhealthiness of; inertness induced by climate of; Palace of the Sultan, ——- Island; its aspect from the sea, Zassi River and village, Zebra, Zimbizo, attack on the village, Zimmerman on the benefit of an unencumbered mind, Ziwo, or pond, Ziwani (pool), Zogga, palm toddy,

THE END