thirdly, to having never ruined my constitution by indulgence in vice. and intemperance; fourthly, to the energy of my nature; fifthly, to a native hopefulness which never died; and, sixthly, to having furnished myself with a capacious water and damp-proof canvas house."

Mr. Stanley purposely chose a different route from that traversed by Burton, Speke, and Grant, in order to reach Tabora, or Unyanyembe, the Arab emporium midway to Ujiji. He first traversed "the strip of land known as the Mrima, Sawahili, or Zanguebar coast, a most important place in the eyes of the civilized world, on which, now that the slave question is being agitated, attention should be seriously concentrated. Its importance to us arises from the fact that by means of its ten ports, three-fourths of the slaves captured, kidnapped, or bought in the interior, are shipped abroad." (Pp. 224, 225.) Our hero next came to the fertile country drained by the Kingani river, and its tributaries, chiefly the Ungerengeri, comprising Ukwere, Ukwami, Udoe, and Useguhha, with the separate tribes inhabiting these several districts. Then comes the broad valley of the Makata, Mukondokwa, or Wami River, (the frequent changes in the river names of Africa constitute a great difficulty in its geography,) into which a pass through a chain of mountains admits the traveller, who in vain hopes thus to reach less swampy ground. The descriptions of Mr. Stanley's journeys along this valley in the Masika, or rainy season, especially when returning, are appalling.

On his way inland he says, (p. 140,) "For thirty miles from our camp was the Makata plain, an extensive swamp. The water was on an average one foot in depth; in some places we plunged into holes three, four, and even five feet deep. Plash, splash, plash, splash were the only sounds we heard from the commencement of the march, until we found the bomas occupying the only dry spots along the line of march. This kind of work continued for two days, until we came to the Rudewa river, another powerful stream with banks brimful of rushing rainwater. Crossing a branch of it, and emerging from the dank reedy grass crowding the western bank, the view consisted of an immense sheet of water topped by clumps of grass, tufts, and foliage of thinly-scattered trees. The acme of discomfort and vexation was realized on the five-mile march from the Rudewa branch. As myself and the Wanguana appeared with the loaded donkeys, the pagazis (or carriers) were observed huddled on a mound. When asked if the mound was the camp, they replied, 'No.' 'Why, then, do you stop here?' 'Ugh! water plenty!!' One drew a line across his loins to indicate the depth of water before us, another drew a line across his chest, another across his throat, another held his hand over his head, by which he meant

It may assist the reader if we here append as a foot-note some remarks from page 224, which afford a serviceable clue to the nomenclature which Mr. Stanley employs. He says: "Sawahili means the sea coast; hence, the people who live on this sea coast of Zanguebar are called Wasawahili, and their language, Kisawahili. And it may be mentioned that the prefix U means country, Wa stands for persons in the plural, M is the singular for one person. Thus U-zaramo means country of Zaramo; Wa-zaramo would mean people of Zaramo; M-zaramo, one person of Zaramo; Ki-zaramo, language of Zaramo."

that we should have to swim. Swim five miles through a reedy marsh! It was impossible; it was also impossible that such varied accounts could all be correct. Without hesitation, therefore, I ordered the Wanguana to proceed with the animals. After three hours of splashing through four feet of water we reached dry land, and had traversed the swamp of Makata." We are not surprised that Mr. Stanley should add. "The animals died from this date by twos and threes, almost every day, until but five sickly, worn-out beasts remained;,..the Wanguana, soldiers, and pagazis sickened of diseases innumerable ;... and I myself was finally compelled to lie a-bed with an attack of acute dysentery which brought me to the verge of the grave."

This was an ordinary wet season; the return march took place when its severities were almost unprecedented. A mighty storm had crossed the country, "for the trees in some places seemed to lie in swathes," the Ungerengeri had overflowed, a hundred villages were swept away, and Simbamwenni, the "Lion City," the stronghold of the freebooting Waseguhha, had utterly perished. It was at this time that Stanley's loaded pistol, pointed at the head of the struggling bearer, saved the box containing Livingstone's Letters and Journal, when about to be carried down the stream. About an hour later came the main river, across which one of the strongest men succeeded in swimming with a line tied round his body, one hundred and eighty feet long, which he lashed to a tree, and Stanley and several of the men and boys were dragged across. But, no means offering for the transmission of the letter-boxes and valuables, the party had to pass the night in two camps, one on each side of the river. The adventurer writes, "It was an extraordinary 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 the party; but it struck Mr. Stanley that he "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 handbarrow, 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 their shoulders, would be able to convey over a seventy-pound box with ease." Stimulated by the promise of reward, the men made the trial, and in an hour's time had perfectly succeeded; after which, seven hours' constant splashing brought the party to the verge only of the inundated plain of the Makata, which has been already described. Here, on a hill near Rehenneko, they encamped ten days, until the rain ceased. Then, says the leader, "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," only to be so tormented by mosquitoes that, "when the horn sounded for the march of another day,

there was not one dissentient. It was five A.M. when we began the crossing of the Makata river, but beyond it for six miles stretched one long lake...the confluence of the streams; four rivers were here gathered into one. But even the water-we were getting quite amphibiouswas 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, until we were halted on the edge of the Little Makata, which raced along at the rate of eight knots an hour," and had to be swum.

One more extract, dated five days later, we make, to complete the picture, and illustrate the grim humour of our author.

"April 30th.-Passing Msuwa we travelled hurriedly through the jungle, which saw such hard work with us when going to Unyanyembe. What dreadful odours and indescribable loathing this jungle produces ! It is so dense that a tiger could not crawl through it; it is so impene-trable 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. Landcrabs, terrapins, and iguanas move about in our vicinity. Malaria is in the air we breathe; the road is infested with 'hot-water' 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. 2. Red ants, or 'hot water.' 3. Scorpions. 4. Thorns and spear cacti. 5. Numerous impediments. 6. Black mud, knee deep. 7. Suffocation from the density of the jungle. 8. Stench. 9. Thorns in the road. 10. Miasma." But we have anticipated. Our readers have probably had enough; but we have yielded to the temptation to quote thus lengthily from the return march, in order to give some conception of the hardships involved in such an expedition as Mr. Stanley's. These are not of the character which one would naturally associate with travel in Central Africa.

In the Makata valley terrible ravages have been made by the neighbouring Waseguhha, whose territory crosses it from north to south, and who have risen from comparative tribal insignificance to become the scourge of this part of the continent, through their connection with the Arab slave-buyers, who have supplied them with muskets and ammunition. The Wadoe, in particular, who are celebrated for " their beauty of form, their fine physique, and general superiority," have suffered dreadfully, and lost their supremacy east of the Usagara mountains. Leaving the swamps behind him, on his way inland, Stanley next crossed the mountain region, seventy-five miles wide, inhabited by the Wasagara; and next, for an equal distance, the country of the powerful, ferocious, and populous Wagogo; between whom and the Wanyamwezi are the industrious inhabitants of Uyanzi. Graphic delineations of the

tribes are supplied, amongst which we may call special attention to the Wagogo, on pp. 250, 251, who are pronounced to be, "physically and intellectually, the best of the races between Unyamwezi and the sea." But we will content ourselves with one sketch, from p. 540:

"The most remarkable tribe in Central Africa are the Wanyamwezi. A beau-ideal of a Mnyamwezi to me will be a tall, long-limbed black man, with a good-natured face, always with a broad smile upon it; displaying, in the centre of the upper row of teeth, a small hole, which was cut out when he was a boy, to denote his tribe; with hundreds of long wiry ringlets hanging down his neck; almost naked; giving me a full view of a form which would make an excellent model for a black Apollo....... A Mnyamwezi is the Yankee of Africa; he is a born trader and traveller. From days immemorial his tribe has monopolized the carrying of goods from one country to another. The Mnyamwezi is the camel, the horse, the mule, and the ass,-the beast of burden to which all travellers anxiously look to convey their luggage from the coast to the far African interior......While journeying with caravans they are docile and tractable; in their villages they are a merry-making set; on trading expeditions of their own they are keen and clever; as Ruga-Ruga (bandits) they are unscrupulous and bold; in Ukonongo and Ukawendi they are hunters; in Usukuma they are drovers and iron-smelters; in Lunda they are energetic searchers for ivory: on the coast they are a wondering and awe-struck people."

Such extracts from this fascinating volume might be multiplied indefi • nitely, but we are compelled now to confine ourselves to the story of the main purposes of the expedition. Arrived at Tabora or Unyanyembe, our hero was drawn into a small war between the friendly Arabs resident there, and Mirambo, whom he terms "a black Bonaparte," and who had gradually raised himself from a common pagazi into a successful robber, and ultimately assumed regal authority, announcing that no Arab caravan should pass through his usurped possessions, except over his dead body. The story is sketched with spirit of the early successes and speedy subsequent discomforture of the Arabs, as well as of their cowardice, and that of Mr. Stanley's contingent, who, almost to a man, in a panic deserted their master, when prostrate with fever, so that he escaped with great difficulty. After an unwilling detention of three months he started again, in the face of numberless protestations and prophecies of failure on the part of his chicken-hearted allies, and reached Ujiji in fifty-one days,-two hundred and thirty-six from Bagamoyo. The narrative is intensely interesting. It brings before us in succession the park lands of Ukonongo, the hunter's paradise; Ukawendi, likewise abounding with interminable forests; Uvinza, traversed by the Malagarazi, one of the chief feeders of Lake Tanganyika; and the vast plains of Uhha, where the incessant black mail, levied by the native chiefs, drove our adventurer to the hazardous resolve of pushing through the border jungle. The party had already heard of the arrival, a week before, of a white man with a grey beard, intelligence of which greatly excited them. It was in this hazardous part of the journey that Stanley was compelled to cure the hysteria into which terror of discovery drove the weak-brained wife of one of his carriers, with a

horsewhipping, which alone saved her life, and that of the party. At last they safely reached moist and diversified Ukaranga, and then surpassingly beautiful and fertile Ujiji, the district bordering on Tanganyika.

But we must now let the intrepid traveller speak for himself in such sentences, gleaned from his pages, as we can find room for in our brief remaining space.

"November 10th. Friday.-It is a happy, glorious morning. The air is fresh and cool. The sky lovingly smiles on the earth and her children. The deep woods are crowned in bright green leafage; the water of the Mkuti, rushing under the emerald shade afforded by the bearded banks, seems to challenge us for the race to Ujiji, with its continuous brawl....' Forward!' Ay Wallah, ay Wallah, bana yango!' and the light-hearted braves stride away at a rate which must soon bring us within view of Ujiji....In two hours I am warned to prepare for a view of the Tanganyika; for, from the top of a steep mountain, the kirangozi (guide) says I can see it. I almost vent the feelings of my heart in cries.... We are at last on the summit. A little further onjust yonder!-O! there it is!-a silvery gleam. I merely catch sight of it between the trees, and-but here it is at last! True-THE TANGANYIKA! and there are the blue-black mountains of Ugoma and Ukaramba. An immense broad sheet, a burnished bed of silver,-lucid canopy of blue above,-lofty mountains are its valances, palm-forests form its fringes! The Tanganyika! Hurrah! and the men respond to the exultant cry of the Anglo-Saxon with the lungs of stentors, and the great forests and the hills seem to share in our triumph;" and so the little band speed on till, continues the narrator, "we arrive at the summit of the last ridge of myriads, travel across, and arrive at its western rim, and-pause, reader-the port of Ujiji is below, embowered in the palms, only five hundred yards from us!...

"Our hearts and our feelings are with our eyes, as we peer into the palms, and try to make out in which hut or house is the white man with the grey beard we heard about on the Malagarazi. 'Unfurl the flags, and load your guns!' 'Ay Wallah, ay Wallah, bana!' respond the men, eagerly. 'One, two, three-fire!' A volley from nearly fifty guns roars like a salute from a battery of artillery. We shall note its effect presently on the peaceful-looking village below. Now, Kirangozi, hold the white man's flag up high, and let the Zanzibar flag bring up the rear. And you men keep close together, and keep firing until we halt in the market-place, or before the white man's house. You have said to me often that you could smell the fish of the Tanganyika. I can smell the fish of the Tanganyika now. There are fish, and beer, and a long rest waiting for you. MARCH!'"' The effect was as electrical as was desired; and, when "we were now about three hundred yards from the village," the author resumes, "the crowds are dense about me. Suddenly I hear a voice on my right say, 'Good morning, Sir!'" This turns out to be "Susi, the servant of Dr. Livingstone," as that functionary states, smiling, and showing a gleaming row of teeth. 'What! is Dr. Livingstone here?' 'Yes, Sir.' 'In this village ?' 'Yes, Sir.' 'Are you sure?' 'Sure, sure, Sir. Why, I leave him just now.'" Then follows a second, who turns out to be Chumah, the Doctor's other