dances, and retreated. We wished to keep ourselves clear of the quarrel between these two tribes, and, though later events made it difficult, tried our best to act merely on the defensive. We waited till evening. It was a moonless night, but Venus and Jupiter were very bright, and the burning village threw a red glare over the whole country. Escorted by some sixty warriors fully armed, and with faces smeared with white pipe-clay (and most fiend-like objects they were), we silently and slowly wound our way along the base of the hills by unfrequented paths, often halting while our advance-guard went forward to make a reconnaissance, creeping along the beds of streams (what a terrible noise one's boots would make!), till we came to the Ruaha. Here the banks were very steep, and it was with great difficulty that we crossed without alarming the enemy, whom we could plainly see and hear as they sat round their camp-fires. At length we found ourselves outside a strong stockade, and after a long parley, carried on in whispers, were admitted into Mérére's "boma." We fancied that this was Mérére's town, but found that it was merely a stockade, built on the bend of the river, about one hundred yards in diameter, closely packed with miserable little grass huts. The place was in a horrible state of filth, and its odours, together with that from the numbers of unburied corpses lying outside, were almost unbearable. From the crows'-nests next morning, we saw the long line of trenches and camps with which the place was surrounded. There must have been at least three thousand of the besiegers, and we numbered about six hundred, besides women and children. At first they were very bold, and made various assaults on the stockade, in which they lost many men. Then, in despair of

taking the place, they had dug trenches, formed camps, and evidently meant to starve us out.

About four o'clock every morning there was generally an alarm or an attack, and I used to find myself rushing down, rifle and revolver in hand, to the stockade, generally to find the affair all over and the enemy repulsed with loss. All day long bullets used to be flying about; but not much damage was done to us, although I generally had a good many patients to visit. The constant drumming, the yells of the outposts jeering at the enemy, and imitating the cries of cows, sheep, and goats (to make the besiegers believe we still had such animals in the stockade), kept one awake at night, and the horrible smells and hunger made us begin to think of attempting a sally; but Suleiman and Mérére begged us to wait a few more days, declaring that forces were being collected to relieve us. Things had come to a bad pass, when, before dawn on the 5th of November, we were as usual called up by our men, and, as was our wont, snatched up our guns, and hurried down to the stockade. But instead of an excited throng of warriors, brandishing spears and letting off their firelocks into the darkness, we found a crowd of men, women, and children gazing at long lines of burning huts blazing in all directions. It was the most glorious 5th of November bonfire. The enemy having heard of the approach of the tribe who were advancing to our relief, had fired all their camps, and were in full retreat. Mérére still, however, suspected a feint, and ordered his men to remain within the stockade. But we did not agree with him, for we saw the vultures swooping down on the trenches, and stalking about the deserted camps, so Elton and I walked out, he with a shot-gun, in the hope of bagging a dove for breakfast, and I with no gun at all. We found the

camps and trenches deserted, and the whole ground strewn with skeletons and corpses. Then the whole population of the "boma" poured out.

At length we most gladly said farewell to Mérére, and started off towards the north-west. While we were still on the great plain of Usango, game was plentiful, and we were very fortunate in bagging a good deal; but when we reached the Niam-Niam country, we found it completely deserted, all the people and cattle having taken refuge in the mountains of Usafa. Then came a few days about six- of pretty nearly famine fare. I remember my intense joy when I managed to shoot a couple of parrots with one of our last cartridges; and on the day before reaching the village, I know I was in a very faint and staggering condition, and would never have got through had not poor Elton shared with me a mudfish that was caught by one of the men, and purchased at a high price. I have never tasted anything half so delicious as the flesh, skin, bones, and tail (I had the tailend) of that mud-fish. In the evening I came across a wild fig-tree, and made a good meal off the unripe fruit. The rest of the party had pushed ahead, and arrived at Mkongora's; but I was benighted, and spent a miserably wet night in the bush, and was carried in by my men next day....

Crossing the Makasumbi river we found ourselves in an undulating country covered with thick bush. Here poor Captain Elton began to break down. We carried him for two days, and when we reached the Kasigo he became worse. But we thought it best to push on, for the rain was violent at nights, and our food was finished. Here, after remaining unconscious for fifty hours, our poor fellow-traveller breathed his last. We buried him-though

not without encountering much difficulty from the superstitions of the natives-under a large baobab-tree, about three miles to the S.E. of the village. After this sad event we most fortunately discovered that a numerous caravan was encamped at North Usekhe, and were hospitably received by the chief Arab, Haram Selim-Selim, who provided us with cloth (at, however, rather a ruinous price), and gave us presents of coffee, sugar, and curry, which were, as might be supposed, most acceptable.

We then had to traverse some 350 miles of the Ujiji caravan route, about which it will be enough to say that we could scarcely procure food enough, though the country teems with cattle and sheep-that we had a wet time of it for two days across the Mkata swamp, finding the water waist-high in many parts, and chin-high in others— that we passed eight terribly anxious days, while one of our party lay between life and death with an attack of sunstroke-and that we were nearly mad with joy when "the sea, the sea" first burst upon our view—and finally, that on our arrival at Bangamoyo we found H.M.S. Vulture awaiting us, and on the last day of February we reached Zanzibar, having spent four months and a half on the journey of about 1000 miles from Livingstonia. H. B. COTTERILL.1

de-mean'-our, bearing; appearance. to make a re-con-naiss'-ance, to discover the position of the enemy or

the lie of the land.

sal'-ly, a going-out to attack the enemy.

1. Stockade, a strong railing of logs for the defence of a house or town.

1 From the 'Proceedings of Royal Geographical Society.'

38.-MARCH TO THE SEA.

After this day's exhibition I saw that the marching powers of my men had gone from bad to worse, and that some decisive steps must be taken, or the caravan would never reach the coast, now only one hundred and twentysix geographical miles distant. Upwards of twenty men complained of being unable to walk far or to carry anything; swelled legs, stiff necks, aching backs, and empty stomachs being the universal cry. Taking my pipe to my assistance, I sat down for half an hour's reflection, and then resolved on the action to be taken. It came to this: throw away tent, boat, bed, and everything but instruments, journals, and books; and then, taking a few picked men, make a forced march to the coast, sending thence assistance to the main body. And this was no sooner decided than acted upon, for no time was to be lost. Manoel appropriated my abandoned tent, bed, and boat, and lodged them with a friend in a village near by; and early on the following morning I started-with five of my own men, Manoel and two of his, and the Bailunda, who said they could go at any pace to make a rush for the coast, leaving three of Manoel's people to act as guides to the caravan.

My kit consisted of what I stood up in, and a spare shirt, a pair of slippers, a blanket, frying-pan, tin cup, sextant, and writing materials; making in all a load of about twenty pounds, which was shifted from man to man on the journey. My personal stock of food and stores for the road was composed of half the fowl obtained at Lungi, a little flour, and my last two yards of cloth.

We set out at a good speed, across rough and broken