VII. GENERAL PROVISIONS (part 1 of 3)

VII. GENERAL PROVISIONS (part 1 of 3)

ARTICLE XXXVI.

The Powers signatory to the present general Act reserve to themselves the right of eventually, by mutual agreement, introducing therein modifications or improvements, the utility of which has been shown by experience.

ARTICLE XXXVII.

The Powers who may not have signed the present Act shall accept its provisions by a separate Act.

The adhesion of each Power shall be notified in the usual diplomatic manner to the Government of the German Empire, and by it to those of all the signatory and adherent States.

The adhesion shall imply the full right of acceptance of all the obligations, and admission to all the advantages stipulated for in the present general Act.

ARTICLE XXXVIII.

The present general Act shall be ratified with as short a delay as possible, and in no case shall that delay exceed a year.

It shall come into force for each Power on the date of its ratification by that Power.

Meanwhile the Powers signatory to the present Act bind themselves to adopt no measure that shall be contrary to the provisions of the said Act.

Each Power shall send its ratification to the Government of the German Empire, which undertakes to ratify the same to all the signatory Powers of the present general Act.

The ratifications of all the Powers shall remain deposited in the archives of the Government of the German Empire. When all the ratifications shall have been produced, a deed of deposit shall be drawn up in a protocol, which shall be signed by the Representatives of all the Powers that have taken part in the Berlin Conference, and a certified copy of it shall be sent to each of those Powers.

In consideration of which, the respective Plenipotentiaries have signed the present general Act, and hereto affix their seals.

Done at Berlin, February 26th, 1885.

Inasmuch as the Congo Free State starts with the sanction of all the leading powers of civilization, it assumes a dignity, at its very inception, which attaches to no other African dynasty. It is, or ought to be, beyond those jealousies which have torn, and are tearing, other possessions in Africa to pieces, and retarding their colonization and development. Further, the terms of its creation ought to assure it the united sympathy and combined energy of its patrons and founders, and these ought to be invincible within its magnificent boundaries for overcoming every obstacle to permanent sovereignty and commercial, industrial and moral development.

But the spirit of comity, which has made a Congo Free State possible, might as well have rescued Equatorial Africa, from ocean to ocean, from the rapacious grasp of the jealous and contending powers of Europe. True, something like a free belt has been recognized, extending to within a few miles of the Eastern coast, and intended to secure an outlet for products which can be more advantageously marketed in that direction; yet this is of no avail against projects designed to appropriate and control, politically and commercially, the immense sweep of country between the Congo Free State and Indian Ocean; it is rather an incentive to these powers to make haste in their work of appropriation and reduction, and they are at it with an earnestness which savors of the days when two Americas furnished the flesh for picking, and the bone for angry contention. Great Britain, Portugal, Germany, Italy, are in clash about East African areas, protectorates, sovereignties, commercial interests, with the likelihood of further trouble, and such deep complications as arms only can simplify and relieve.

Looking but a little into the future, one can catch a glimpse of the fate in store for East Africa. It is to be the grand political offset to the Congo Free State. This has been resolved upon by Great Britain, and its outlines are already mapped in her foreign policy. As matters stand, there is nothing to prevent the consummation of her designs. She has virtual possession of the Eastern coast from Cape Colony to the mouth of the Zambezi. She has Egypt in her grasp, which means the Nile valley from Alexandria to the head lakes, Victoria, Albert and Edward Nyanza, with their drainage systems.

On the ocean side the power of the Sultan has been already limited to Zanzibar and adjacent islands, and it is now like the last flicker of a wasted candle. On the Zambezi, and north of it, up the Shire to Lake Nyassa, come the claims of Portugal. Portugal is weak, and a poor colonizer at that. She can be ousted by diplomacy or sat down upon by force. The German and Italian interests will eventually blend with those of Great Britain, or shape themselves into well-defined states, pledged to peace and anxious to be let alone.

England is well equipped for this gigantic undertaking. She has an extensive South African and Egyptian experience. She has her experience in India, which she need but repeat in Africa to realize her dreams, or at least achieve more than would be possible with any other power. And then India is over-populated. It might be that thousands, perhaps millions, of her people would swarm to African shores, where they would find a climate not unlike their own, and resources which they could turn to ready account. At any rate, England could enlist in India an army for the occupation of East Africa. Her Indian contingent in Egypt answered an excellent purpose, and redeemed the otherwise fatal campaign toward Khartoum.

The business of establishing an internal economy in this new empire is easier for Great Britain than any other country. Her prestige means as much with native tribes as with the petty sovereignties of Europe, or the islands of the Pacific. Her shows of force are impressive, her methods of discipline effective. In the midst of opposition her hand is hard and heavy. A string of fortifications from the Zambezi to Cairo, with native garrisons, under control of English army officers, would inspire the natives with fear and assure their allegiance. The tact of her traders and the perseverance of her missionaries would bring about all else that might be necessary to create a thrifty and semi-Christian State.

Our posterity will watch with interest the development of Africa through the agency of its Congo Free State on the west, and its Imperial State on the east; the one contributing to the glory of all civilized nations, the other to that of a single nation; the one an enlargement of sovereignty, the other a concentration of it. One has for its inspiration the genius of freedom, the other the genius of force. One is a dedication to civilizing influences, the other is a seizure and appropriation in the name of civilization. We can conceive of the latter, under the impetus of patronage and of concentrated energy, supplemented by arbitrary power, taking the lead for a time, and maintaining it till its viceroyalties become centers of corruption and its subjects helpless peons. But in the end, the former will bound to the front, lifted by internal forces, which are free and virile, buoyed by a spirit of self-helpfulness and independence, sustained from without by universal sympathy and admiration, and from within by beings who have voluntarily consented and contributed to their progress and enlightenment, and are proud participants in their own institutions.

The historian of a century hence will confirm or deny the above observations. If he confirms them, he will add that long experience proved the inutility of forcing our governments, usages and peoples on those of Africa without modification, and to the utter subordination of those which were native; but that, on the contrary, the best civilizing results were obtained by recognition of native elements, their gradual endowment with sovereignty, their elevation to the trusts which commerce and industry impose. It is time that our boasted civilization should show a conquest which is not based on the inferiority, wreck and extermination of the races it meets with in its course. It has careered around the globe in temperate belts, stopping for nothing that came in its way, justifying everything by its superiority. Nature calls a halt in mid-Africa, and practically says: “The agents of civilization are already here. Use them, but do not abuse. You can substitute no other that will prove either permanent or profitable.”

THE RESCUE OF EMIN.

In the fall of 1886, Stanley was summoned from the United States by the King of Belgium to come and pay him a visit. That monarch seems to have remembered what others had forgotten, that a European adventurer and a European project lay buried somewhere beneath the Equator and in the very heart of the “Dark Continent.” Stanley responded to the King’s invitation, and out of the interview which followed sprang a reason for his late and most memorable journey across equatorial Africa. But it was deemed wise to interest other agencies, and so the British Geographical Society was consulted and induced to lend a helping hand. In order to further nationalize the projected journey a commission was formed under whose auspices it was to take place. This enlisted for the moment the sympathies of the German peoples, for the lost one was a German. So grew up what came to be known as the “Emin Bey Relief Committee,” with head-quarters at London, and with Sir William Mackinnon as its secretary.

And now, who is Emin Bey, or as he appears most frequently, Emin Pasha? What is there about his disappearance in the wilds of Africa that makes knowledge of his whereabouts and his rescue so desirable? What, of more than humanitarian moment, can attach to a journey planned as this one was? These questions are momentous, for they involve far more than mere men or mere projects of rescue. They involve the aims and ambitions of empires, the policies of dynasties, the destinies of future African States and peoples. That these things are true will appear from the answers which history makes to the above queries——a history which is aglow with events and attractive in its details, however little it may serve to reveal of the present plans of those who contribute most to its making. Emin Pasha was born in the Austrian province of Silesia, and the town of Opplen, in 1840, the same year as Henry M. Stanley. He studied medicine at Breslau, Königsberg and Berlin, and entered upon the world as a regular M.D. with a diploma from the Berlin University. Sometime before the Russian-Turkish war he went to Constantinople and entered the Turkish army with the title of Bey, or Colonel. A taste for travel took him to the East where he acquired the oriental languages. On his return we find him attached to the Imperial Ministry of Turkey, but only during part of the incumbency of Midhat Pasha, who, finding his ministry opposed to his ultra hatred of Russia, dismissed it.

Up to this time he was known as Dr. Eduard (Edward) Schnitzer, that being the name of his parents, with the prefix of Colonel, or Bey as an affix. This was all as to outside knowledge of him. On his dismissal from the Court at Constantinople he fled to Asia, and after many wanderings turned up at Suakim and finally at Khartoum, in Africa, where he made the acquaintance of that ill-starred and fatalistic English adventurer, General Gordon, then Governor General of the Soudan, under English auspices. The General finding him an adventurer of attainments made him a storekeeper of his army, and upon ascertaining that he was an M.D., promoted him to the position of surgeon. In 1877 he was a practitioner of medicine at Lado, in southern Soudan. He afterwards became Surgeon-General of Gordon’s staff. In this capacity he served for four years. During this time he was engaged in making many valuable scientific researches and collections and in contributing interesting papers to European learned societies. He was also of great use to Gordon, who sent him to Uganda and Unyoro on diplomatic missions.

In 1878, when General Gordon was made Governor-General of the Soudan by the British Government, he raised Col. Schnitzer to the rank of Governor of the province of Hat el Seva in Southern Soudan. By this time the Mahdi had risen in the Soudan, and was confronting Gordon with his Mohammedan followers. To identify himself more fully with the Mohammedan people among which he had to live, Col. Schnitzer abandoned his German name and took the Arabic one of Emin (the faithful one) and the full title of Pasha (General or Governor). The scheme on the part of Gordon was to seize and hold the equatorial provinces of the Soudan, in the rear of the Mahdi’s forces, and thus introduce a military menace as well as make a political and moral diversion in favor of the cause he represented. Gordon gave him part of his own army, augmented by a large native force, and with this Emin Pasha took possession of his provinces far toward the Equator, and abutting on the central lake system of the continent.

For a time all went well with him. He proved a most indefatigable traveler, and showed special fitness to govern. He was familiar with the language of the Turks, Arabs, Germans, French and Italians, and acquired readily the dialects of the heathen tribes. On every side he displayed suavity, tact and genius. In 1879, he made an excursion to the western shore land of the Mwutan, which till then had not been visited by white men. In 1880 he visited Makralla-land, and planted many trading stations, thus enlarging his territory geographically and politically. In this expedition he located many important rivers, chief of which was the Kibali. In 1881 he pushed his explorations westward into the land of the powerful Niam Niams, and southward into the lands of the Monbuttus, which tribes are types of the best physical and political strength in that part of Africa, west of the Nile sources.

Thus Emin kept on increasing the extent and importance of his territory, and it came to be recognized as the best governed of any in the vast undefined domain of the Soudan. He found it infested with Arab slave-dealers, who practiced all the barbarities of their kind, and much of his time was occupied in suppressing the nefarious traffic. He became the recognized foe of those who penetrated his domains to barter in human flesh, or if cupidity dictated, to burn, pillage and kill, in order that they might freight their dhwos with trophies of their cruelty.

Though undefined east and west, his kingdom came to recognize Lado as its northern capital, and Wadelai, on Lake Albert Nyanza, as its southern. The work of organizing his territory extended from 1878 to 1882. He had practically driven out the slave-traders and converted a deficient revenue into a surplus for his government, conducting everything on the basis laid down by his superior, General Gordon, and carrying out with the most marked success the plans of that noble enthusiast. He was fast making his territory semi-civilized when the Mahdi arose, led his hosts northward, massacred the army of Gordon, and finally made himself master of Khartoum and a great part of the Soudan. This was in 1882. The Egyptian garrisons throughout the Southern Soudan were then abandoned to their fate, and the last attempt to save Khartoum ended with the death of General Gordon.

During the years of bloodshed that followed, Emin remained at his post, his provinces entirely cut off from the world, and he himself neglected and left entirely to his own resources. He held at the time about four thousand native and Egyptian troops under his command. He was completely surrounded by hostile tribes, but it is generally admitted that if he had chosen to leave behind him the thousands of helpless women and children and abandon the province to the merciless cruelties of the slave traders, he could easily have effected his escape either to the Congo or to the Zanzibar coast. But he determined to stay and to keep the equatorial provinces for civilization, if possible.

The great work done by this brave and indefatigable German cannot be told here in detail. But he organized auxiliary forces of native soldiers; he was constantly engaged in warfare with surrounding tribes; he garrisoned a dozen river stations lying long distances apart. His ammunition ran low and he lacked the money needed for paying his small army; but in the face of manifold difficulties and dangers he maintained his position, governed the country well, and taught the natives how to raise cotton, rice, indigo and coffee, and also how to weave cloth and to make shoes, candles, soap and many articles of commerce. He vaccinated the natives by the thousand in order to stamp out small-pox; he opened the first hospital known in that quarter; he established a regular post-route, with forty offices; he made important geographical discoveries in the basin of the Albert Nyanza Lake, and in many ways demonstrated his capacity for governing barbarous races by the methods and standards of European civilization.

Murder, war and slavery were made things of the past, so that at last “the whole country became so safe that only for the wild beasts in the thickets, a man could have gone from one end of the province to the other, armed with nothing more than a walking-stick.” A German writer said of him at the time: “In his capital, Lado, where Dr. Schnitzer earlier resided, he arose every day before the sun. His first work was to visit the hospitals and care for the health of the people and the troops. After a day devoted to executive labors, a great part of the night would be spent in writing those essays on anthropology, ethnology, geography, botany, and the languages of the people dwelling in his province which have made his name famous as a scientific explorer.”

Tn 1885 Emin had ten fortified stations along the Upper Nile, the most northern one being Lado, and the most southern one Wadelai. The latter place he made his capital for some time. His command at Wadelai then consisted of 1500 soldiers, ten Egyptians and fifteen negro officers. The rest were at the various stations on the Nile. He had ammunition to hold out until the end of 1886, and longer, he wrote, “if the wild tribes did not make the discovery that he would be then entirely out of it.” In 1887 he wrote: “I am still holding out, and will not forsake my people.” After that, letters were received from him in which he described his position as hopeful. In one of the last of these letters he wrote:

“The work that Gordon paid for with his blood I will strive to carry on according to his intentions and his spirit. For twelve long years I have striven and toiled and sown the seeds for future harvests, laid the foundation stones for future buildings. Shall I now give up the work because a way may soon open to the coast? Never!”

The successes of the Mahdi had isolated him entirely on the north. To the west and south were powerful tribes which, though not unfriendly, could offer him no avenue of escape. To the east were still more powerful peoples, once friendly but now imbued with the Mahdi’s hatred of white men and their commercial and political objects. Chief of these were the Uganda, whose King, Mtesa, had died in 1884, and had been succeeded by his son Mwanga, a thorough Mahdist and bitter against European innovation. Emin was therefore a prisoner. This was known in Europe in 1886, but how critical his situation was, no one could tell. It was natural to regard it as perilous, and it was hoped that the Egyptian Government would take measures for his relief. The Cairo Government did nothing except to give him the title of Pasha and to offer £10,000 to any expedition that might be sent to him. Many relief expeditions were then planned, but nothing came of them till the one at whose head Stanley was placed took shape.

Where should such an expedition go? What should it do? It did not take long for the “wizard of equatorial travel” to decide. Here might be opened a whole volume of controversy as to whether Stanley’s mission in search of Emin was really humanitarian or not. The Germans who had the greatest interest in the safety of their fellow countryman, refused to look on the expedition as other than a scheme to rid the Southern Soudan of a Teutonic ruler in the interest of England. They regarded Emin as abundantly able to take care of himself for an indefinite time, and the event of his withdrawal as amounting to a confession that Germanic sovereignty was at an end in the lake regions of Central Africa. It cannot be ascertained now that Stanley entered upon the expedition for the relief of Emin Pasha in other than a humanitarian spirit, though he was backed by English capital. It is fair to presume that since he was invited to the ordeal by the Belgian King, whose exchequer was responsible for the greater part of the outlay, he went with perfectly disinterested motives. But be that as it may, he felt the delicacy of his task and, after having discovered the lost one, his interviews with him are models of diplomatic modesty and patience.

On being placed in charge of the expedition by its projectors, Stanley naturally chose the Congo route into the heart of Africa, because he was familiar with it by his recent efforts to found the Congo Free State, and because it would give him a chance to review and refresh his labors in that behalf. If all things were as he had left them, he knew that a water-way traversable by steam was open for him to a point on the Congo opposite the habitation of Emin and distant but a few hundred miles. So May 11, 1887, found Stanley on the west coast of Africa ready to start inland. He did not collect his force and equipments at the mouth of the Congo, but made his way around the cataracts to Stanley Pool. There, at the station called Kinchassa everything was gathered for the up-river journey. Thence, the expedition embarked in three steamers, Le Stanley, the large stern-wheeler belonging to the Congo Free State, towing the Florida which had just been put together by sections. Le Stanley and Florida had on board about 300 men, mostly trained and armed natives, among whom were four English officers and several scientific gentlemen, besides a cargo of ammunition, merchandise and pack animals. The next steamer was the Henry Reid, a launch belonging to the American Baptist Missionary Union, and kindly loaned to Stanley for the purpose of transporting part of his force and equipments from Stanley Pool to his proposed camp on the Aruwimi. The other steamer was the Peace, placed at Stanley’s disposal by the Rev. Holman Bentley, of the English Baptist Missionary Society, and of which a young missionary named Whitely had charge.

On their passage up the Congo, and after a sail of ten days a camp was formed at Bolobo, and left in charge of Captain Ward, who was deemed a proper person for the command on account of his previous knowledge of the natives, always inclined to be more or less hostile at that point. Captain Ward had met Stanley below Stanley Pool and while he was performing his tedious journey around the cataracts. He thus describes the expedition on its march at the time of the meeting.

In the front of Stanley’s line was a tall Soudanese warrior bearing the Gordon Bennett yacht flag. Behind the soldier, and astride a magnificent mule, came the great explorer. Following immediately in his rear were his personal servants, Somalis, with their braided waistcoats and white robes. Then came Zanzibaris with their blankets, water-bottles, ammunition-belts and guns; stalwart Soudanese soldiery, with great hooded coats, their rifles on their backs, and innumerable straps and leather belts around their bodies; Wagawali porters, bearing boxes of ammunition, to which were fastened axes, shovels and hose lines, as well as their little bundles of clothing, which were invariably rolled up in old threadbare blankets. At one point the whale-boat was being carried in sections, suspended from poles, which were each borne by four men. Donkeys laden with sacks of rice were next met, and a little further back were the women of Tippoo Tib’s harem, their faces concealed and their bodies draped in gaudily-colored clothes. Here and there was an English officer. A flock of goats next came along, and then the form of Tippoo Tib came into view as he strutted majestically along in his flowing Arab robes and large turban, carrying over his right shoulder a jewel-hilted sword, the emblem of office from the Sultan of Zanzibar. Behind him followed several Arab sheiks, whose bearing was quiet and dignified.

It was not the intention to hurry over the long stretch of water between Stanley Pool and the Aruwimi, but to make the trip by easy stages. Yet it was a trip involving great labor, for there being no coal, and the steamers being small, the work of wood-cutting had to be done every night. The launches required as much wood for twelve hours steaming as thirty or forty men, laboring at night, could cut with their axes and cross-cut saws. In some portions of the upper Congo where the shores are swampy for miles in width, the men were often compelled to wade these long distances before striking the rising forest land, and of course they had to carry the wood back to the steamers over the same tedious and dangerous routes.

As has been stated, Stanley’s objective was the mouth of the large river Aruwimi, which enters the Congo, a short distance below Stanley Falls, in Lat. 1° N., and whose general westward direction led him to think that by following it he would get within easy marches of Lake Albert Nyanza and thus into Emin’s dominions.

On the arrival of the expedition at the mouth of the Aruwimi, an armed camp was formed at Yambungi and left in charge of the unfortunate Major Barttelot, and here a conference was awaited with the dual-hearted Arab, Tippoo Tib, whom Stanley had recognized as ruler at Nyangwe, on the Congo, above Stanley Falls, and who was bound to him by the most solemn treaties. The wily chieftain came up in due time, and the interview was such as to engender serious doubts of his further friendship, notwithstanding his protestations.

The occasion was a palaver, at the request of Major Barttelot, with a view to obtain some definite understanding as to the providing of the Manyema porters whom Tippoo Tib had promised Stanley he would supply in order that the rearguard might follow him up from the Aruwimi River to Wadelai. How the porters did not come up to time; how the commander of the rearguard was hampered with new conditions as to weight when the men did appear; and how the dreadful business ended in the assassination of Major Barttelot and the breaking up of the camp, will appear further on. The death of Mr. Jameson soon afterwards, at Ward’s Camp, on the Congo, a distressing sequel to the former tragedy, was in somber tone with the reports of Stanley’s death which came filtering through the darkness at about the same time. The cloud which fell upon the Aruwimi camp seemed to spread its dark mantle over the entire expedition. Mr. Werner, in his interesting volume “A Visit to Stanley’s Rear Guard,” gives a characteristic sketch of the Arab chief; and Mr. Werner was the engineer in charge of the vessel which took Major Barttelot part of the way on his last journey to the Falls. “After the light complexion of the other Arabs,” he says, “I was somewhat surprised to find Mr. Tippoo Tib as black as any negro I had seen; but he had a fine well-shaped head, bald at the top, and a short, black, thick beard thickly strewn with white hairs. He was dressed in the usual Arab style, but more simply than the rest of the Arab chiefs, and had a broad, well-formed figure. His restless eyes gave him a great resemblance to the negro’s head with blinking eyes in the electric advertisements of somebody’s shoe polish which adorned the walls of railway-stations some years ago——and earned him the nickname of ‘Nubian blacking.’”

In June, 1887, Stanley started on his ascent of the unknown Aruwimi, and through a country filled with natives prejudiced against him by the Arab traders and friends of the Mahdi. His force now comprised 5 white men and 380 armed natives. His journey proved tedious and perilous in the extreme, and though he persevered in the midst of obstacles for two months, he was still 400 miles from Albert Nyanza. It was now found that the river route was impracticable for the heavier boats. At this point their troubles thickened. The natives proved hostile, and ingenious in their means of opposing obstructions to the further progress of the expedition. They refused to contribute provisions, and starvation stared the travelers in the face. For weeks their only food was wild fruit and nuts. To forage was to invite death, and to engage in open war was to court annihilation. Disease broke out, and it must have swept them all away but for the precautions which Stanley took to head off its ravages. As it was, the number was greatly reduced, and the men were weak, emaciated, in a state of panic, amid surrounding dangers and without spirit for further trials. Writing of this critical period, his letters say:

“What can you make of this, for instance? On August 17, 1887, all the officers of the rear column are united at Yambuya. They have my letter of instructions before them, but instead of preparing for the morrow’s march, to follow our track, they decide to wait at Yambuya, which decision initiates the most awful season any community of men ever endured in Africa or elsewhere.

“The results are that three-quarters of their force die of slow poison. Their commander is murdered and the second officer dies soon after of sickness and grief. Another officer is wasted to a skeleton and obliged to return home. A fourth is sent to wander aimlessly up and down the Congo, and the survivor is found in such a fearful pest-hole that we dare not describe its horrors.

“On the same date, 150 miles away, the officer of the day leads 333 men of the advance column into the bush, loses the path and all consciousness of his whereabouts, and every step he takes only leads him further astray. His people become frantic; his white companions, vexed and irritated by the sense of the evil around them, cannot devise any expedient to relieve him. They are surrounded by cannibals and poison tipped arrows thin their numbers.

“Meantime I, in command of the river column, am anxiously searching up and down the river in four different directions; through forests my scouts are seeking for them, but not until the sixth day was I successful in finding them.”

Having now brought his different marching columns closer together, and loaded his sick in light canoes, he started on, intercepted continually by wild native raiders who inflicted considerable loss on his best men, who had to bear the brunt of fighting as well as the fatigue of paddling. Soon progress by the river became too tedious and difficult, and orders were given to cast off the canoes. The land course now lay along the north bank of the Itura, amid dense forests, and through the despoiled lands which had been a stamping ground for Ugarrowa and Kilingalango raiders. No grass land, with visions of beef, mutton and vegetables, were within a hundred miles of the dismal scene.

For two weeks the expedition threaded the unknown tangle, looking out for ambuscades, warding off attacks, and braving dangers of every description. At length the region of the Dwaris was reached and a plantain patch burst into view. The hungry wayfarers plunged into it and regaled themselves with the roasted fruit, while the more thoughtful provided a store of plantain flour for the dreaded wilderness ahead. Another plunge was made into the trackless forest and ten days elapsed before another plantation was reached, during which time the small-pox broke out, with greater loss of life than any other enemy had as yet inflicted. Meanwhile they had passed the mouth of the Ihuru, a large tributary of the Itura, and were on the banks of the Ishuru. As there was no possibility of crossing this turbulent tributary, its right bank was followed for four days till the principal village of the Andikuma tribe was reached. It was surrounded by the finest plantation of bananas and plantains, which all the Manyemas’ habit of spoliation and destruction had been unable to destroy. There the travelers, after severe starvation during fourteen days, gorged themselves to such excess that it contributed greatly to lessen their numbers. Every twentieth individual suffered from some complaint which entirely incapacitated him for duty.

From Andikuma, a six days’ march northerly brought them to a flourishing settlement, called Indeman. Here Stanley was utterly nonplussed by the confusion of river names. The natives were dwarfs. After capturing some of them and forcing answers, he found that they were on the right branch of the Ihuru river and that it could be bridged. Throwing a bridge across, they passed into a region wholly inhabited by dwarfs who proved very hostile. They are the Wambutti people, and such were their number and ferocity that Stanley was forced to change his north-east into a south-east course and to follow the lead of elephant tracks.

They had now to pass through the most terrible of all their African experiences. Writing further of this trying ordeal, Stanley says:

“On the fifth day, having distributed all the stock of flour in camp, and having killed the only goat we possessed, I was compelled to open the officers’ provision boxes and take a pound pot of butter, with two cupfuls of my flour, to make an imitation gruel, there being nothing else save tea, coffee, sugar, and a pot of sage in the boxes. In the afternoon a boy died, and the condition of the majority of the rest was most disheartening. Some could not stand, falling down in the effort to do so. These constant sights acted on my nerves until I began to feel not only moral but physical sympathy, as though the weakness was contagious. Before night a Madi carrier died. The last of our Somalis gave signs of collapse, and the few Soudanese with us were scarcely able to move. When the morning of the sixth day dawned, we made broth with the usual pot of butter, an abundance of water, a pot of condensed milk, and a cupful of flour for 130 people. The chiefs and Bonny were called to a council. At my suggesting a reverse to the foragers of such a nature as to exclude our men from returning with news of the disaster, they were altogether unable to comprehend such a possibility. They believed it possible that these 150 men were searching for food, without which they would not return. They were then asked to consider the supposition that they were five days searching food, and they had lost the road, perhaps, or, having no white leader, had scattered to shoot goats, and had entirely forgotten their starving friends and brothers in the camp. What would be the state of the 130 people five days hence? Bonny offered to stay with ten men in the camp if I provided ten days’ food for each person, while I would set out to search for the missing men. Food to make a light cupful of gruel for ten men for ten days was not difficult to procure, but the sick and feeble remaining must starve unless I met with good fortune; and accordingly a stone of buttermilk, flour, and biscuits were prepared and handed over to the charge of Bonny. In the afternoon of the seventh day we mustered everybody, besides the garrison of the camp, ten men. Sadi, a Manyema chief, surrendered fourteen of his men to their doom. Kibboboras, another chief, abandoned his brother; and Fundi, another Manyema chief, left one of his wives and her little boy. We left twenty-six feeble and sick wretches already past all hope unless food could be brought them within twenty-four hours. In a cheery tone, though my heart was never heavier, I told the forty-three hunger-bitten people that I was going back to hunt for the missing men. We traveled nine miles that afternoon, having passed several dead people on the road, and early on the eighth day of their absence from camp we met them marching in an easy fashion, but when we were met the pace was altered, so that in twenty-six hours from leaving Starvation Camp we were back with a cheery abundance around us of gruel and porridge, boiling bananas, boiling plantains, roasting meat, and simmering soup. This had been my nearest approach to absolute starvation in all my African experience. Altogether twenty-one persons succumbed in this dreadful camp.”

After twelve days journey the party on November 12th, reached Ibwiri. The Arab devastation, which had reached within a few miles of Ibwiri, was so thorough that not a native hut was left standing between Urgarrava and Ibwiri. What the Arabs did not destroy the elephants destroyed, turning the whole region into a horrible wilderness.

Stanley continues:——“Our sufferings terminated at Ibwiri. We were beyond the reach of destroyers. We were on virgin soil, in a populous region, abounding with food. We, ourselves, were mere skeletons——reduced in number from 289 to but little more than half that number. Hitherto our people were skeptical of what we told them. The suffering had been so awful, the calamities so numerous, and the forests so endless, that they refused to believe that by and by we would see plains and cattle, the Nyanza, and Emin Pasha. They had turned a deaf ear to our prayers and entreaties for, driven by hunger and suffering, they sold their rifles and equipments for ears of Indian corn, deserted with their ammunition and became generally demoralized. Perceiving that mild punishment would be of no avail, I resorted to the death penalty, and two of the worst cases were hanged in the presence of all. We halted 13 days at Ibwiri, revelling on fowls, goats, bananas, corn, yams, etc. The supplies were inexhaustible and our people glutted themselves with such effect that our force increased to 173 sleek robust men——one had been killed with an arrow.”

On November 24th the expedition started for Albert Nyanza, 126 miles distant. Given food, the distance seemed nothing. On December 1st an open country was sighted from the top of a ridge which was named Mt. Pisgah. On the 5th the plains were reached and the deadly, gloomy forest left behind. The light of day now beamed all around, after 160 days of travel. They thought they had never seen grass so green or a country so lovely. The men could not contain themselves but leaped and yelled for joy, and even raced over the ground with their heavy burdens.

On Nov. 9, 1887, Stanley says, “We entered the country of the powerful Chief Mazamboni. The villages were scattered so thickly that no road except through them could be found. The natives sighted us, but we were prepared. We seized a hill as soon as we arrived in the center of a mass of villages, and built a zareba as fast as billhooks could cut the brushwood. The war cries were terrible from hill to hill, pealing across the intervening valleys. The people gathered in hundreds at every point, war horns and drums announcing the struggle. After a slight skirmish, ending in our capture of a cow, the first beef we had tasted since we left the ocean, the night passed peacefully, both sides preparing for the morrow.

“Here Mr. Stanley narrates how negotiations with natives failed, Mazamboni declining a peace offering, and how a detachment of 40 persons, led by Lieutenant Stairs, and another of 30, under command of Mr. Jephson, with sharpshooters, left the zareba and assaulted and carried the villages, driving the natives into a general rout. The march was resumed on the 12th and here were constant little fights.

“On the afternoon of the 13th,” says Mr. Stanley, “we sighted the Nyanza, with Kavalli, the objective point of the expedition. Six miles off I had told the men to prepare to see the Nyanza. They murmured and doubted, saying, “Why does the master continually talk this way? Nyanza indeed.” When they saw the Nyanza below them, many came to kiss my hands. We were now at an altitude of 5,200 feet above the sea, with the Albert Nyanza 2,900 feet below, in one degree twenty minutes. The south end of the Nyanza lay largely mapped for about six miles south of this position and right across to the eastern shore. Every dent in its low, flat shore was visible, and traced like a silver snake on the dark ground was the tributary Lanilki, flowing into the Albert Nyanza from the south-west.

“After a short halt to enjoy the prospect, we commenced the rugged and stony descent. Before the rear guard had descended 100 feet the natives from the plateau poured after them, keeping the rear guard busy until within a few hundred feet of the Nyanza plain. We camped at the foot of the plateau wall, the aneroids reading 2,500 feet above the sea level. A night attack was made, but the sentries sufficed to drive our assailants off.

“We afterwards approached the village of Kakongo, situated at the south-west corner of Albert Lake. Three hours were spent by us in attempting to make friends, but we signally failed. They would not allow us to go to the lake, because we might frighten their cattle. They would not exchange the blood of brotherhood, because they never heard of any good people coming from the west side of the lake. They would not accept any present from us, because they did not know who we were; but they would give us water to drink, and would show us the road up to Nyam-Sassi. From these singular people we learned that they had heard that there was a white man at Unyoro, but they had never heard of any white men being on the west side, nor had they ever seen any steamers on the lake. There was no excuse for quarrelling. The people were civil enough, but they did not want us near them. We therefore were shown the path and followed it for miles. We camped about half a mile from the lake, and then began to consider our position with the light thrown upon it by conversation with the Kakongo natives.”

But, now he was in more of a quandary than ever. The lake was before him, but no sign of Emin nor any of his officials. Could he have failed to hear of Stanley’s sacrifices in his behalf? The famished expedition looked in vain on that expanse of water for evidence of friendly flag or welcome steamer. It had left all its own boats behind, a distance of 190 miles, and was therefore helpless for further search. This should not be, and so with his accustomed heroism, Stanley resolved on a return march to Kilinga for boats. It was a hard, quick journey, occupying weeks, for the distance was great.

Writing of his fatigue and disappointment on his arrival at Lake Albert Nyanza, Stanley says:

“My couriers from Zanzibar had evidently not arrived, or Emin Pasha, with his two steamers, would have paid the south-west side of the lake a visit to prepare the natives for our coming. My boat was at Kilingalonga, 190 miles distant, and there was no canoe obtainable. To seize a canoe without the excuse of a quarrel, my conscience would not permit. There was no tree anywhere of a size sufficient to make canoes. Wadelai was a terrible distance off for an expedition so reduced. We had used five cases of cartridges in five days fighting on the plain.

“A month of such fighting must exhaust our stock. There was no plan suggested that was feasible, except to retreat to Ibwiri, build a fort, send the party back to Kalingalonga for a boat, store up every load in the fort not conveyable, leave a garrison in the fort to hold it, march back to Albert Lake, and send a boat in search of Emin Pasha. This was the plan which, after lengthy discussions with the officers, I resolved upon.”

The most pathetic part of this eventful history is the fact that Emin had really received Stanley’s messages, had been surprised at his coming to rescue him, and had made an effort to meet him on some likely point on the lake, but having failed had returned to his southern capital, Wadelai, on the Nile outlet of the lake.

During the time so spent by the expedition the outside world was filled with rumors of the death of Stanley, either by disease or at the hands of the natives. These reports would always be followed by some favorable report from the expedition, not authentic, but enough to give hope that the hardy explorers were safe and continuing their way across the continent. Occasionally, too, during the first part of the trip, couriers would arrive at the coast from Stanley announcing progress, but, as they advanced, no further communications were received, and the expedition was swallowed up in the jungles and vast forests of Central Africa.

Putting his plans for a return into execution, Stanley had to fight his way from the shores of the lake to the top of the plateau, for the Kakongo natives were determined he should not pass back the way he had come. He was victorious with a loss of one man killed and one wounded. The plateau gained, he plunged westward by forced marches, and by January 7, 1888, was back at Ibwiri. After a few days rest there, he dispatched Lieut. Stairs with 100 men to Kilinga to bring up the boats. On his return with the boats, he was sent to Ugarrowas to bring up the convalescents. Stanley now fell sick and only recovered after a month of careful nursing.

It was now April 2d, and he again started for the lake, accompanied by Jephson and Parke, Nelson being left in command at the post, now Fort Bodo, with a garrison of 43 men. On April 26, he was again in Mazamboni’s country, who, after much solicitation was induced to make blood brotherhood with Stanley. Strange to say every other chief as far as the lake followed his example, and every difficulty was removed. Food was supplied in abundance and gratis, and the gracious natives, expert in the art of hut building, prepared in advance the necessary shelter for night.

When within a day’s march of the lake, natives came up from Kavalli saying that a white man had given their chief a note done up in a black packet and that they would lead Stanley to him if he would follow. He replied, “he would not only follow but make them rich,” for he did not doubt that the white man was Emin Pasha. The next day’s march brought them to Chief Kavalli, who handed Stanley a note from Emin Pasha done up in black American oil cloth. It was to the effect that as there had been a native rumor that a white man had been seen at the south end of the lake, he (Emin) had gone thither in a steamer but had been unable to obtain reliable information. The note further begged Stanley to remain where he was till Emin could communicate with him.

The next day, April 23d, Stanley sent Jephson with a strong force to take the boat of the expedition to Lake Nyanza. On the 26th the boat crew sited Mawa Station, the southernmost station in Emin’s boundaries. There Jephson was hospitably received by the Egyptian garrison. On April 29th, Stanley and his party again reached the bivouac ground on the plateau overlooking the lake, where they had encamped before, and at 5 P.M., they sighted the Khedive steamer, seven miles away on the lake, steaming up towards them. By 7 P.M., the steamer arrived opposite the camp, and shortly afterwards, Emin Pasha, Signor Carati and Jephson came to Stanley’s head-quarters where they were heartily welcomed. The next day Stanley moved his camp to a better place, three miles above Nyamsassi, and Emin also moved his camp thither. The two leaders were together, in frequent consultation, till May 25th. The Pasha was surrounded by two battalions of regulars, besides a respectable force of irregulars, sailors, artisans, clerks and servants. How different, in many respects, was the situation from what Stanley expected!

He found Emin Pasha in the midst of plenty and unwilling to be rescued. He found his own forces jaded with travel, on the eve of starvation, and anxious to be rescued. He found, moreover, a prince in his own equatorial empire, who looked with jealous eyes on the relief expedition. In one of his (Emin’s) letters dated April 17, 1888, he declared that he had no intention to give up his work in Africa and had determined to await Stanley’s coming at Wadelai. In another letter he expressed himself very decidedly to the effect that he did not wish his province to come under English suzerainty. He was evidently of the opinion that the British Government in sending out Stanley had its eyes on his province with a view to eventually incorporating it with the Soudan, should the Anglo-Egyptians succeed in re-establishing authority at Khartoum. The same idea gradually forced itself to acceptance in Europe, and, as we know, the German Government later became no less anxious to get into communication with Emin in the hope of preventing him from making any arrangement with England.

It was not therefore such a meeting as took place years before between Stanley and Livingstone, at Ujiji on the banks of Lake Tanganyika.

Long interviews followed which did not impress Stanley with the fact that his expedition was to be a success, so far as getting Emin out of the country was concerned. “Altogether,” said Emin, “if I consent to go away from here we shall have 8000 people with us.” His principal desire seemed to be that Stanley should relieve him of about 100 of his Egyptian soldiers, with their women and children. He said he was extremely doubtful of the loyalty of the first and second battalions. It was this interview which Stanley announced to the world of civilization by way of the Congo route. The situation was most delicate. He could not urge upon the ruler of an empire to flee from his dominions, he could not even ask one who seemed to be in the midst of peace and plenty, to desert them for the hardships of a long journey to the coast. He could only impress on him in a modest way the objects of the expedition and the propriety of his taking advantage of its presence to effect an escape from dangers which were thickening every hour, and which must ere long take shape in a descent upon him by the ever increasing hordes of the Mahdi.

These representations were of no avail and Stanley left him on May 25th, leaving with him Jephson and five of his carriers. In return Emin gave Stanley 105 of his regular Mahdi native porters. In fourteen days Stanley was back at Fort Bodo, where he found Captain Nelson and Lieut. Stairs. The latter had come up from Ugarrowas, twenty-two days after Stanley had set out for the lake, bringing along, alas! only 16 out of 56 men. All the rest had perished on the journey. Stairs brought along the news that Stanley’s 20 couriers, by whom he had sent word to Barttelot at Yambuna, had passed Ugarrowas on their way to their destination, on March 16th. Fort Bodo was in excellent condition on Stanley’s arrival, and enough ground had been placed under cultivation to insure a sufficient amount of corn for food.

On June 16th he left Fort Bodo with 111 Zanzibaris and 101 of Emin’s Soudanese, for Kilonga, where he arrived on June 24th. Pushing on, he arrived at Ugarrowas on July 19th. While this backward journey was performed rapidly and without serious hindrance, it was to end in sorrow. Ugarrowas was found deserted, its occupants having gathered as much ivory as they could, and passed down the river in company with Stanley’s couriers. Stanley made haste to follow, and on August 10th came up with the Ugarrowa people in a flotilla of 57 canoes. His couriers, now reduced to 17 in number, related awful stories of hair-breadth escapes and tragic scenes. Besides the three which had been slain, two were down with wounds, and all bore scars of arrow wounds.

A week later they were all down to Bunalyla, where Stanley met his friend, Dr. Bonney, at the stockade, and inquired for Major Barttelot, who, it will be recollected, was left in charge of Stanley’s rear guard at Yambuna, with orders to secure food and carriers from Tippoo Tib. Stanley asked:

“Well, my dear Bonney where’s the Major?”

“He is dead, sir; shot by a Manyuema, about a month ago,” replied Bonney.

“Good God,” I cried, “and Jamieson!”

“He has gone to Stanley Falls to try to get more men from Tippoo Tib.”

“And Troup?”

“Troup has gone home invalided.”

“Well, were is Ward?”

“Ward is at Bangala.”

“Heaven alive! Then you are the only one here?”

“Yes, sir.”

Without loss of further time, Stanley hastened down to Yambuna, only to find the sad story too, too, true. Barttelot and his entire caravan had been destroyed, and the officers left in charge of the station had fled panic stricken down the river with all the supplies of the station. Stanley complained greatly of this desertion, yet proceeded to do the best he could to re-provision the fort and recuperate his men. He remained long enough to study the situation, and it was sad in the extreme as it gradually unfolded in his mind. His governor of Stanley Falls and the Congo beyond, the Arab Tippoo Tib, was evidently working in the interest of the Mahdi, in violation of his oath and most solemn covenants. Though proof of his open hostility was wanting, Stanley strongly suspected him of conspiring to bring about the massacre of Barttelot’s caravan, in July, 1888, with a view of preventing his (Stanley’s) return to the Albert Nyanza. Evidence of a wide spread conspiracy to rid the entire equatorial section of its European occupants was also found in the fact that the destruction of Barttelot’s caravan ante-dated but a month the uprising in Emin Pasha’s provinces, the desertion of him by his army and his deposition from power and final imprisonment, the details of which are given hereafter.

Yet with these fierce fires of conspiracy crackling about him in the depths of the African forest, Stanley thought more of others than himself. He resolved to hasten back to the lake to rescue Emin from a danger which must by this time have become plain to him, even if it had not already crushed him. He worked his force by relays till the Ituri ferry was reached. Here he expected to hear from Emin. Disappointment increased his fears, and he resolved to rid himself of all incumbrance and resort to forced marches. He therefore established a camp at the Ituri ferry and left Stairs in command with 124 people. With the rest he forced his way across the plains, the natives being the same as those with which he had engaged in desperate conflict on previous journeys. But now they were quite changed in spirit, and instead of offering him opposition they were anxious to make blood brotherhood with him. They even constructed the huts of his camps, and brought food, fuel and water as soon as the sites were pitched upon.

With all this kindness and sociability of the natives, not a word could be gathered from them of the state of affairs on the Albert Nyanza. At length, January 16, 1889, at a station called Gaviras, a message was received from Kavalli, on the south-west side of the lake. It was a letter from Jephson, with two confirmatory notes from Emin, and conveyed the startling intelligence, that a rebellion had broken out, in the previous August, in Emin’s dominions, and that the Pasha had been made a prisoner. The rebellion had been gotten up by some half dozen of the Egyptian officers, and had been augmented by the soldiers at Laboré, though those of other stations had remained faithful. Then the letter goes on to warn Stanley to be careful on his arrival at Kavalli, and continues in the following pitiful strain:

“When the Pasha and I were on our way to Regaf two men——one an officer, Abdul Voal Effendi, and the other a clerk——went about and told the people they had seen you, and that you were only an adventurer, and had not come from Egypt; that the letters you had brought from the Khedive and Nubar were forgeries; that it was untrue Khartoum had fallen; and that the Pasha and you had made a plot to take them, their wives and their children out of the country and hand them over as slaves to the English. Such words in an ignorant, fanatical country like this acted like fire among the people, and the result was a general rebellion and we were made prisoners.

“The rebels then collected the officers from the different stations and held a large meeting here to determine what measures they should take, and all those who did not join the movement were so insulted and abused that they were obliged for their own safety to acquiesce in what was done: The Pasha was deposed and those officers suspected of being friendly to him were removed from their posts, and those friendly to the rebels were put in their places. It was decided to take the Pasha as a prisoner to Regaf, and some of the worst rebels were even in for putting him in irons. But the officers were afraid to put their plans into execution, as the soldiers said they would never permit any one to lay a hand on him. Plans were also made to entrap you when you returned and strip you of all you had.

“Things were in this condition when we were startled by the news that the Mahdi’s people had arrived at Lado with three steamers and nine sandals and nuggers, and had established themselves on the site of the old station. Omar Sali, their general, sent up three peacock dervishes with a letter to the Pasha demanding the instant surrender of the country. The rebel officers seized them and put them into prison, and decided on war. After a few days the Mahdists attacked and captured Regaf, killing five officers and numbers of soldiers and taking many women and children prisoners, and all the stores and ammunition in the station were lost.

“The result of this was a general stampede of the people from the stations of Biddon Kirri and Muggi, who fled with their women and children to Labore, abandoning almost everything. At Kirri the ammunition was abandoned and was seized by natives. The Pasha reckons that the Mahdists number about 1500. The officers and a large number of soldiers have returned to Muggi and intend to make a stand against the Mahdists.

“Our position here is extremely unpleasant, for since the rebellion all is chaos and confusion. There is no head and half-a-dozen conflicting orders are given every day, and no one obeys. The rebel officers are wholly unable to control the soldiers. The Boris have joined the Mahdists. If they come down here with a rush, nothing can save us. The officers are all frightened at what has taken place and are anxiously awaiting your arrival, and desire to leave the country with you, for they are now really persuaded that Khartoum has fallen, and that you have come from the Khedive. We are like rats in a trap. They will neither let us act nor retire, and I fear, unless you come very soon, you will be too late, and our fate will be like that of the rest of the garrisons of the Soudan. Had this rebellion not happened, the Pasha could have kept the Mahdists in check some time, but now he is powerless to act.

“I would suggest, on your arrival at Kavallis, that you write a letter in Arabic to Shukri Aga, chief of the Mswa Station, telling him of your arrival, and telling him that you wished to see the Pasha and myself. Write also to the Pasha or myself, telling us what number of men you have with you. It would, perhaps, be better to write me, as a letter to him might be confiscated. Neither the Pasha nor myself think there is the slightest danger now of any attempt to capture you, for the people are now fully persuaded that you are come from Egypt, and they look to you to get them out of their difficulties. Still it would be well for you to make your camp strong. If we are not able to get out of the country, please remember me to my friends, etc. Yours faithfully, JEPHSON.”

To this letter were appended two postscripts, the first dated November 24th, 1888. It ran:

“Shortly after I had written you, the soldiers were led by their officers to attempt to retake Regaf, but the Mahdists defended it, and killed six officers and a large number of soldiers. Among the officers killed were some of the Pasha’s worst enemies. The soldiers in all the stations were so panic-stricken and angry at what happened that they declared they would not attempt to fight unless the Pasha was set at liberty. So the rebel officers were obliged to free him and send him to Wadilai, where he is free to do as he pleases; but at present he has not resumed authority in the country. He is, I believe, by no means anxious to do so. We hope in a few days to be at Tunguru Station, on the lake, two days’ steamer from Nsabe, and I trust when we hear of your arrival that the Pasha himself will be able to come down with me to see you. We hear that the Mahdists sent steamers down to Khartoum for reinforcements. If so, they cannot be up here for another six weeks. If they come up here with reinforcements, it will be all up with us, for the soldiers will never stand against them, and it will be a mere walk-over. Every one is anxiously looking for your arrival, for the coming of the Mahdists has completely cowed them. We may just manage to get out if you do not come later than the end of December, but it is entirely impossible to foresee what will happen.”

Jephson in a second postscript, dated December 18th, says:

“Mogo, the messenger, not having started, I send a second postscript. We were not at Tunguru on November 25th. The Mahdists surrounded Duffle Station and besieged it for four days. The soldiers, of whom there were about 500, managed to repulse them, and they retired to Regaf, their headquarters, as they have sent down to Khartoum for reinforcements, and doubtless will attack again when strengthened. In our flight from Wadelai the officers requested me to destroy our boats and the advances. I therefore broke it up. Duffle is being renovated as fast as possible. The Pasha is unable to move hand or foot, as there is still a very strong party against him, and his officers no longer in immediate fear of the Mahdi. Do not on any account come down to us at my former camp on the lake near Kavalli Island, but make your camp at Kavalli, on the plateau above. Send a letter directly you arrive there, and as soon as we hear of your arrival I will come to you. Will not disguise facts from you that you will have a difficult and dangerous work before you in dealing with the Pasha’s people. I trust you will arrive before the Mahdists are reinforced, or our case will be desperate. Yours faithfully, (Signed) JEPHSON.”

Imagine the effect of such word as this on one who stood almost alone in the midst of a continent, without power to face the disciplined forces of the Mahdi, and with no open line of retreat. The best he could do for the moment was write an assuring letter and dispatch it to the Nyanza as quickly as possible, pushing on after it to Kavalli.

With Stanley, to resolve was to act. He accordingly sent word to Jephson that he need have no anxiety on his (Stanley’s) account for he was in the midst of natives who were not only friendly but ready to fight for him; that on his arrival at Kavalli he would be in a condition to rescue Emin and his attendants; and that every inducement must be brought to bear on him to come southward on the lake with his command, if not still held prisoners.

On Stanley’s arrival at Kavalli, he again wrote, under date of January 18th, 1889. And this letter, together with those which followed, reveals a situation quite as embarrassing as the former one had been, for still Emin seemed to be unaware of his danger. Stanley’s letter read:

“KAVALLI, January 18, 3 o’clock P.M.——My dear Jephson: I now send thirty rifles and three Kavalli men down to the lake with my letters with my urgent instructions that a canoe should be sent off and the bearers be rewarded. I may be able to stay longer than six days here, perhaps ten days. I will do my best to prolong my stay until you arrive without rupturing the peace.

“Our people have a good store of beads and couriers cloth, and I notice that the natives trade very readily, which will assist Kavalli’s resources should he get uneasy under our prolonged visit. Should we get out of this trouble I am his most devoted servant and friend but if he hesitates again I shall be plunged in wonder and perplexity. I could save a dozen Pashas if they were willing to be saved. I would go on my knees and implore the Pasha to be sensible of his own case. He is wise enough in all things else, even for his own interests. Be kind and good to him for his many virtues, but do not you be drawn into the fatal fascination the Soudan territory seems to have for all Europeans in late years. As they touch its ground they seem to be drawn into a whirlpool which sucks them in and covers them with its waves. The only way to avoid it is to blindly, devotedly, and unquestioningly obey all orders from the outside. The Committee said:

“Relieve Emin with this ammunition. If he wishes to come out the ammunition will enable to do so. If he elects to stay it will be of service to him. The Khedive said the same thing and added that if the Pasha and his officers wished to stay, they could do so on their own responsibility. Sir Evelin Baring said the same thing in clear, decided words, and here I am after 4,100 miles travel with the last instalment of relief. Let him who is authorized to take it, take it and come. I am ready to lend him all my strength and will assist him, but this time there must be no hesitation, but positive yea or nay, and home we go. Yours sincerely, STANLEY.”

In the course of his correspondence Mr. Stanley says: “On February 6th Jephson arrived in the afternoon at our camp at Kavalli. I was startled to hear Jephson, in plain, undoubting words, say: “Sentiment is the Pasha’s worst enemy. No one keeps Emin back but Emin himself.” This is the summary of what Jephson learned during the nine months from May 25th, 1888, to February 6th, 1889. I gathered sufficient from Jephson’s verbal report to conclude that during nine months neither the Pasha, Casati, nor any man in the province had arrived nearer any other conclusion than what was told us ten months before. However, the diversion in our favor created by the Mahdists’ invasion and the dreadful slaughter they made of all they met inspired us with hope that we could get a definite answer at last. Though Jephson could only reply: ‘I really can’t tell you what the Pasha means to do. He says he wishes to go away, but will not move. It is impossible to say what any man will do. Perhaps another advance by the Mahdists will send them all pell-mell towards you, to be again irresolute and requiring several weeks’ rest.’”

Stanley next describes how he had already sent orders to mass the whole of his forces ready for contingencies. He also speaks of the suggestions he made to Emin as to the best means of joining him, insisting upon something definite, otherwise it would be his (Stanley’s) duty to destroy the ammunition and march homeward.

It seems that Stanley’s letters were beginning to have weight with Emin, and that he was coming to think it cruel to subject his followers to further danger, whatever opinion he entertained of his own safety. So on the morning of February 13th, 1889, Stanley was rejoiced to receive in his camp on the plateau above Kavalli, at the hands of a native courier, a letter from Emin Pasha himself, which announced his arrival at Kavalli. But let the letter speak for itself:

“Sir: In answer to your letter of the 7th inst., I have the honor to inform you that yesterday I arrived here with my two steamers, carrying a first lot of people desirous to leave this country under your escort. As soon as I have arranged for a cover for my people, the steamers have to start for Mswa Station to bring on another lot of people. Awaiting transport with me are some twelve officers, anxious to see you, and only forty soldiers. They have come under my orders to request you to give them some time to bring their brothers from Wadelai, and I promised them to do my best to assist them. Things having to some extent now changed, you will be able to make them undergo whatever conditions you see fit to impose upon them. To arrange these I shall start from here with officers for your camp, after having provided for the camp, and if you send carriers I could avail me of some of them. I hope sincerely that the great difficulties you had to undergo and the great sacrifices made by your expedition on its way to assist us may be rewarded by full success in bringing out my people. The wave of insanity which overran the country has subsided, and of such people as are now coming with me we may be sure. Permit me to express once more my cordial thanks for whatever you have done for us.

“Yours, EMIN.”

Thus the two heroes of African adventure came together on the west shore of the lake which marked the southern boundary of Emin Pasha’s influence. It was a trying meeting for both. Stanley was firm in his views and true to the objects of his mission. Emin was still divided between his desire to save all of his followers who were willing to go, and his sense of obligation to those who chose to remain behind. In a modified form his convictions, expressed in April, 1887, still held. He then said:

“The work that Gordon paid for with his blood I will strive to carry on, if not with his energy and genius, still according to his intentions and in his spirit. When my lamented chief placed the government of this country in my hands, he wrote to me: “I appoint you for civilization and progress sake.” I have done my best to justify the trust he had in me, and that I have to some extent been successful and have won the confidence of the natives is proved by the fact that I and my handful of people have held our own up to the present day in the midst of hundreds of thousands of natives. I remain here as the last and only representative of Gordon’s staff. It therefore falls to me, and is my bounden duty, to follow up the road he showed us. Sooner or later a bright future must dawn for these countries; sooner or later these people will be drawn into the circle of the ever advancing civilized world. For twelve long years have I striven and toiled, and sown the seeds for future harvest——laid the foundation stones for future buildings. Shall I now give up the work because a way may soon open to the coast? never!”

As if anticipating the end, Stanley had already begun to call in the detachments of his expedition. On February 18th Lieut. Stairs arrived at Kavalli with his strong column from the remote Ituri. Meanwhile negotiations were going on daily with Emin. The force he had brought up the lake consisted of himself, Selim Bey, seven other officers, and sixty-five people. Selim Bey became the spokesman for both Stanley and Emin. He had just achieved a victory over the Madhi’s forces by recapturing Duffle, killing 250 of the enemy and lifting the restraints from Emin, himself. At length, on February 18th, the date of the arrival of Lieut. Stairs, Selim, at the head of a deputation, announced to Stanley a request on the part of Emin that he (Stanley) allow all the equatorial troops and their families to assemble at Kavalli.

In reply Stanley explained fully the object of his expedition, and offered to remain at Kavalli for a reasonable time in order to give Emin’s forces an opportunity to join him. Selim and his deputation retired satisfied, saying they would proceed at once to Wadelai and begin the work of transportation. They started on February 26th. On the 27th, Emin returned to Kavalli with his little daughter, Ferida, and a caravan of 144 men. He and Stanley agreed that twenty days would be a reasonable time in which to gather all the people and movables at Kavalli. These twenty days were necessary to Stanley’s comfort, too, for much sickness had prevailed among his forces, and now, under the ministrations of Surgeon Parke, his active force had been raised from 200 to 280 men.

The refugees from Wadelai soon began to pour into Kavalli. They were a mixture of soldiers, their wives and children, loaded with promiscuous camp effects, most of which was practically rubbish, entailing great labor in handling, and nearly all of which would have to be abandoned on the subsequent march. Stanley saw the result of all this accumulation and on March 16th issued orders to stop bringing the stuff to his camp. But 1355 loads had already arrived, enough to embarrass the march of ten times such a force as was then in camp. At this time Stanley was gratified by a report from Selim announcing that the rebellious soldiers and officers at Wadelai, and all of the people there, were anxious to depart for Egypt under his escort. But while this was true of Wadelai, it was not true of Kavalli, for Stanley discovered a conspiracy among the promiscuous gathering there, which took the shape of a concerted attempt on the part of Emin’s Egyptian soldiers to steal the arms of Stanley’s Zanzibaris, and stir up general mutiny. Knowing that while Emin had been praised for personal bravery and at the same time condemned for laxity of discipline, and seeing that such a state of affairs would be fatal, both in getting a start and in prosecuting a long march, Stanley decided on immediate and resolute action. Forming his own men, armed with rifles, into a square on the plateau, he ordered all of the Pasha’s people into it. Those who refused to go, he arrested and forced in, or had them placed in irons and flogged. They were then questioned as to their knowledge of the conspiracy, but all denied having had anything to do with it. Then all who desired to accompany Stanley were asked by Emin to stand aside. They were told that the condition upon which they could go was that of perfect obedience to Stanley’s orders as their leader, and that extermination would speedily follow the discovery of any further tricks. They promised a most religious obedience. This muster revealed the fact that Emin’s followers numbered 600 people, necessitating the enlistment of 350 new carriers. The entire number now ready for the march was 1500 persons.

But on May 7th, Stanley received an intercepted letter from Selim Bey which stated that the rebels at Wadelai had changed their mind, risen in mutiny, and robbed the loyal forces of all their ammunition. They also asked with the greatest effrontery that Stanley be called before them and questioned as to his future objects before they consented to go with him. The letter in addition contained hints of a plot to attack and capture his expedition in case he started without giving them satisfaction. Instantly Stanley assembled all the officers in his camp and asked them if they felt he would be justified in remaining there after April 10th. They all replied in the negative. Going to Emin, he said, “There Pasha, you have your answer. We march on the 10th.” Emin asked whether they could acquit him in their consciences for abandoning his people, alluding to those who had not yet arrived from Wadelai. Stanley replied that they could most certainly do so, as to all who had not arrived by the 10th. All of Stanley’s accounts of this part of his expedition bear evidence of trouble with Emin. He still trusted the rebellious soldiers, even those who had agreed to leave for Egypt. He mistrusted Stanley’s ability to reach Zanzibar with so numerous a caravan, on account of a lack of food. He had left many valuable servants behind, whom he desired to take along, but he said, “They are unwilling to accompany me.” This opened Stanley’s eyes. He says, “It now became clear that the Pasha had lost his authority at Wadelai, however obstinately he clung to his belief in his forces there.”

May 10th came and Stanley started with his immense expedition for the sea, his objective being Zanzibar, on the east coast of Africa. He had promised Emin to march slowly for a few days in order to give Selim, with such servants and stragglers as he might bring along, an opportunity to overtake them, but he never saw them more. To pursue a route eastward from Albert Nyanza was impracticable, for the powerful Unyoro and Uganda tribes lay in that direction. These and other tribes had been infected with the Mahdi spirit, and would therefore prove hostile. He therefore chose a route in a southerly direction, till the extreme southern waters of Victoria Nyanza had been rounded, when he would be on the natural lines running from Zanzibar into the interior. Besides, this would bring him through nearly 400 miles of practically undiscovered country.

Zanzibar, the objective point of the journey, is on an island of the same name, twenty miles from the east coast of Africa, and in latitude 6° South. It is a Mohammedan town of 30,000 people, with many good houses and mosques. Though the soil is excellent and prolific of fruits and vegetables, the town depends for its prosperity on trade and commerce. When the slave trade was driven from the Atlantic coast of Africa, it found its way to the eastern, or Pacific coast, and flourished in a manner never before known. Zanzibar, always notorious as a slave depot, became the recognized headquarters of the horrid traffic, and rapidly rose to a position of great wealth and influence. Her slave market attracted the notice and excited the disgust and indignation of strangers of every creed and country. Nothing could be more revolting than sight of the Arabic purchasers of slaves examining the build, the eyes, the teeth, and all the physical qualities of the victims offered for sale in the marts. Tens of thousands of slaves were known to pass through Zanzibar annually on their way to various parts of Egypt and Turkey. On the appearance of British cruisers on the coast, with orders to capture and condemn all slave dhows, the Sultan of Turkey prohibited the traffic at Zanzibar. But this only diverted its course. The next step was to induce the Sultan to issue a general proclamation, prohibiting the trade in all places on the coast, under his authority. This was done in 1876. The result has been a considerable diminution of the infamous traffic, which can now only be carried on by a system of smuggling, which incurs much risk. Zanzibar is the most important starting point for travelers and missionaries destined for Central Africa, and is a depot for such supplies as may be needed from time to time.

From every point of view his route was well chosen. Skirting the Unyoro country, he fell under their displeasure and became the victim of a fierce attack, which he parried successfully. This opened his way for a considerable distance along the ranges of mountains which pass under the general name of the Baleggas These mountains rise to the immense height of 18,000 to 19,000 feet, and their summits are capped with snow. The huts of the natives were visible on their sides at altitudes of 8,000 feet. During their nineteen marches along the base of these ranges, their severest obstacle was the Semliki river, a bold stream, 100 yards wide, whose crossing was rendered doubly difficult by the Warasmas natives. They formed an ambuscade, from which they delivered a single volley at the travelers, but fortunately it proved ineffective. It did not take much of a demonstration to put them to flight.

After a march of 113 days the southern waters of Victoria Nyanza were reached. From this point Stanley sent letters to the coast stating that his objective was now Mpwapwa, 230 miles inland, whither provisions should be sent. This was done, and an armed escort was furnished him by German officials thence to the coast, at Bagamoyo, opposite Zanzibar, where the expedition arrived about December 1, 1889. Thence steamer was taken to Zanzibar, where the hero of the expedition, together with Emin Pasha, and all the officials, were received with open arms, fetes and acclamations. Telegrams of congratulations poured in from crowned heads, and all parts of the world. A sample from Queen Victoria types them all. London, December 12th:

“My thoughts are after you and your brave followers, whose hardships and dangers are at an end. I again congratulate you all, including the Zanzibaris, who displayed such devotion and fortitude during your marvelous expedition. I trust Emin Pasha is making favorable progress.”

One drawback to all these exultations at Zanzibar was the fact that Emin Pasha, after escaping all the tribulations of the wilderness, had fallen from the piazza of his hotel at Bagamoyo, on December 5th, and received injuries of an alarming nature. The sad announcement of this clouded the occasion somewhat, and gave a tone of melancholy to what would have been unmixed gratulation.

In reply to a cablegram from the Emperor of Germany, Stanley said, December 7th:

“Imperator et rex. My expedition has now reached its end. I have had the honor to be hospitably entertained by Major Weismann and other of your Majesty’s officers under him. Since arriving from Mpwapwa our travels have come to a successful conclusion. We have been taken across from Bagamoyo to Zanzibar by your Majesty’s ships Sperber and Schwalbe, and all honors coupled with great affability, have been accorded us. I gratefully remember the hospitality and princely affability extended to me at Potsdam; and profoundly impressed with your Majesty’s condescension, kindness and gracious welcome. With a full and sincere heart I exclaim, long live the noble Emperor William.”

And writing for the general public, he says:

“Over and above the happy ending of our appointed duties, we have not been unfortunate in geographical discoveries. The Aruwimi is now known from its source to its bourne. The great Congo forest, covering as large an area as France and the Iberian Peninsula, we can now certify to be an absolute fact. The Mountains of the Moon this time, beyond the least doubt, have been located, and Ruwenzori, “The Cloud King” robed in eternal snow, has been seen and its flanks explored, and some of its shoulders ascended, Mounts Gordon Bennett and Mackinnon cones being but giant sentries warding off the approach to the inner area of ‘The Cloud King.’

“On the south-east of the range the connection between Albert Edward Nyanza and the Albert Nyanza has been discovered, and the extent of the former lake is now known for the first time. Range after range of mountains has been traversed, separated by such tracts of pasture land as would make your cowboys out West mad with envy.

“And right under the burning Equator we have fed on blackberries and bilberries, and quenched our thirst with crystal water fresh from snow beds. We have also been able to add nearly six thousand square miles of water to Victoria Nyanza.

“This has certainly been the most extraordinary expedition I have ever led into Africa. A veritable divinity seems to have hedged us while we journeyed. I say it with all reverence. It has impelled us whither it would, effected its own will, but nevertheless guided and protected us.

“I gave as much good will to my duties as the strictest honor would compel. My faith that the purity of my motive deserved success was firm, but I have been conscious that the issues of every effort were in other hands.

“Not one officer who was with me will forget the miseries he has endured, yet everyone that started from his home destined to march with the advance column and share its wonderful adventures is here to-day, safe, sound and well.

“This is not due to me. Lieutenant Stairs was pierced with a poisoned arrow like others, but others died and he lives. The poisoned tip came out from under his heart eighteen months after he was pierced. Jephson was four months a prisoner, with guards with loaded rifles around him. That they did not murder him is not due to me.

“These officers have had to wade through as many as seventeen streams and broad expanses of mud and swamp in a day. They have endured a sun that scorched whatever it touched. A multitude of impediments have ruffled their tempers and harassed their hours.

“They have been maddened with the agonies of fierce fevers. They have lived for months in an atmosphere that medical authority declared to be deadly. They have faced dangers every day, and their diet has been all through what legal serfs would have declared to be infamous and abominable, and yet they live.

“This is not due to me any more than the courage with which they have borne all that was imposed upon them by their surroundings or the cheery energy which they bestowed to their work or the hopeful voices which rang in the ears of a deafening multitude of blacks and urged the poor souls on to their goal.

“The vulgar will call it luck. Unbelievers will call it chance, but deep down in each heart remains the feeling, that of verity, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in common philosophy.

“I must be brief. Numbers of scenes crowd the memory.

“Could one but sum them into a picture it would have grand interest. The uncomplaining heroism of our dark followers, the brave manhood latent in such uncouth disguise, the tenderness we have seen issuing from nameless entities, the great love animating the ignoble, the sacrifice made by the unfortunate for one more unfortunate, the reverence we have noted in barbarians, who, even as ourselves, were inspired with nobleness and incentives to duty——of all these we would speak if we could, but I must end with, thanks be to God forever and ever!”

This letter is characteristic of Stanley. The hardships of his journey will fade from memory, but its successes will become historic. He has made the “Dark Continent” dark no longer. To him and his undaunted comrades the world owes a debt of gratitude it will be difficult to repay. The vast tracts of hitherto unknown wilderness through which he traveled will stimulate the enterprise of the pioneer, and the day is not far distant——within the lifetime of our children’s children, perhaps——when the shrill echo of the engine’s whistle will be heard on the rugged sides of snow capped mountains which Stanley has explored; when those illimitable forests will resound with the woodman’s axe, and when the law of commerce will change the tawny native from a savage into a self-respecting citizen. Barbarism will retire from its last stronghold on the planet, as the darkness disappears when the sun rises over the hilltops.

The dire distresses of his long journey, begun two and a-half years ago, are beyond the reach of language. He merely hints at some of them and leaves the rest to the imagination. We ponder his pathetic references to the sturdy loyalty of companions and followers, “maddened with the agonies of fierce fevers,” falling into their graves through the subtle poison with which the natives tipped their arrows and spears, bravely fighting their way through interminable swamps only to succumb at last, and the conviction steals over us that such a story has never been told before and may never be told again. He rescued Emin and his comrades, who were “in daily expectation of their doom,” then turned his face southward, made various and important explorations on his way, and at last came within speaking distance of the millions who followed him from the hour he entered the mouth of the Congo with a solicitude which no other man of our time has commanded.

It would not do to close any account of Stanley’s brilliant career without noting the fact that Emin Pasha, in one of his last published letters, written after he was beyond all danger from Mahdi vengeance and African climate, fully acknowledges the value of the aid sent him, and makes it clear that his hesitation at availing himself of it was due to that high sense of duty which had gained him the name of Emin, or the Faithful One. The last and most trusted of Gordon’s lieutenant’s, he regarded it as his “bounden duty” to follow up the road the General showed him; and it must have been a wrench to tear himself away from the life-work to which he had in a measure consecrated himself——to see the labors of years thrown away, and all his endeavors come to naught. But it could not be helped under the circumstances, and Emin, like many before him, has had to succumb to the force of fate. And so ends for the present the attempt to civilize the equatorial Provinces of Egypt. The ruler of Egypt has formally renounced them, Gordon is dead, and his trusted lieutenant has at last thrown up the sponge. It has been a strange and eventful story, in which the heroes have been of the race which has done so much for the regeneration of the dark places of the world. For a time the dark and turbid waves of ignorance, of slavery, and of cruelty will roll back over this part of the Dark Continent and pessimists will say that nothing more can be done. But it is only for a time. The day will surely come when the dreams of Gordon and of Emin will become actual realities; and when that time comes we may be sure that the name of Henry M. Stanley will be remembered and honored.

EGYPT AND THE NILE.

The historic approach to “The Dark Continent” is by way of storied Egypt and its wonderful river, the Nile. In making this approach we must not forget the modern commercial value of the route from Zanzibar, pursued by Stanley (1871-72) while hastening to the rescue of Dr. Livingstone, the great English explorer, nor of that other, by way of the Congo, which bids fair to prove more direct and profitable than any thus far opened.

It was an enterprise as bold as any of those undertaken by hardy mariners to rescue their brother sailors who had met shipwreck while striving to unfold the icy mysteries which surround the North Pole. And, unlike many of these, it was successful. The two great explorers shook hands in October 1871, at Ujiji, on the banks of Lake Tanganyika, in the very heart of the great forest and river system of Africa, and amid dark skinned, but not unkind, strangers, who constitute a native people as peculiar in all respects as their natural surroundings.

We mention this because it was a great achievement in the name of humanity. Livingstone had started on this, his last, exploring tour in 1866, and had been practically lost in African wilds for nearly four years. But it was a greater achievement in the name of science and civilization, for it not only proved that “The Dark Continent” was more easily traversable than had been supposed, but it may be set down as the beginning of a new era in African exploration.

In all ages Africa has been a wonderland to the outside world. As the land of Cush, in Bible story, it was a mystery. It had no bounds, but was the unknown country off to the south of the world where dim legend had fixed the dark races to work out a destiny under the curse laid upon the unfortunate Ham.

Even after Egypt took somewhat definite meaning and shape in Hebrew geography as “The Land of Mizriam,” or the “Land of Ham,” all else in Africa was known vaguely as Ethiopia, marvellous in extent, filled with a people whose color supported the Hamitic tradition, wonderful in animal, vegetable and mineral resources. Thence came Sheba’s queen to see the splendors of Solomon’s court, and thence emanated the long line of Candaces who rivalled Cleopatra in wealth and beauty and far surpassed her in moral and patriotic traits of character.

In olden times the gateway to Africa was Egypt and the Nile. As an empire, history furnishes nothing so curious as Egypt; as a river nothing so interesting as her Nile. We may give to the civilization of China and India whatever date we please, yet that of Egypt will prove as old. And then what a difference in tracing it. That of China and India rests, with a few exceptions, on traditions or on broken crockery tablets and confused shreds of ruins. That of Egypt has a distinct tracery in monuments which have defied the years, each one of which is a book full of grand old stories. We can read to-day, by the light of huge pillar and queer hieroglyphic, back to Menes, the first Egyptian King, and to Abydos, the oldest Egyptian city, and though the period be 4500 years before Christ, scarcely a doubt arises about a leading fact. There was wealth then, art, civilization, empire, and one is ever tempted to ascribe to Egypt the motherhood of that civilization which the Hebrew, Indian, Etruscan, Persian, Roman, Greek and Christian, carved into other shapes.

Says the learned Dr. Henry Brugsch-Bey, who has spent thirty years among Egyptian monuments and who has mastered their inscriptions, “Literature, the arts, and the ideas of morality and religion, so far as we know, had their birth in the Nile valley. The alphabet, if it was constructed in Phœnicia, was conceived in Egypt, or developed from Egyptian characters. Language, doubtless, is as old as man, but the visible symbols of speech were first formulated from the hieroglyphic figures. The early architecture of the Greeks, the Doric, is a development of the Egyptian. Their vases, ewers, jewelry and other ornaments, are copies from the household luxury of the Pharaohs.”

The influence of Egypt on the Hebrew race has a profound interest for the whole Christian world. Let the time of Abraham be fixed at 1900 B.C. The Great Pyramid of Egypt, built by the first Pharaoh of the fourth dynasty, had then been standing for 1500 years. Egypt had a school of architecture and sculpture, a recorded literature, religious ceremonies, mathematics, astronomy, music, agriculture, scientific irrigation, the arts of war, ships, commerce, workers in gold, ivory, gems and glass, the appliances of luxury, the insignia of pride, the forms of government, the indices of law and justice, 2000 years before the “Father of the Faithful” was born, and longer still before the fierce Semitic tribes of the desert gave forth their Hebrew branch, and placed it in the track of authentic history.

In the Bible we read of the “God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob.” In the prayer of King Khunaten, dating long before any biblical writing, we find a clear recognition of one God, and a reaching out of the soul after him, embraced in a language without parallel for beauty of expression and grandeur of thought. Ages before the giving of the law on Sinai and the establishment of the Hebrew ceremonial worship, the “Book of the Dead,” with its high moral precepts, was in the possession of every educated Egyptian.

The Jews went out of Egypt with a pure Semitic blood, but with a modified Semitic language. They carried with them in the person of their great leader, Moses, “all the wisdom of the Egyptians.” This is shown by their architecture, religious customs, vestments, persistent kindred traditions. Both Moses and Jesus were of the race whose early lessons were received with stripes from Egyptian masters. The hieroglyphical writings of Egypt contained the possibilities of Genesis, the Iliad, the Psalms, the Æneid, the Inferno, and Paradise Lost. In the thought that planned the Hall of Columns upon the Nile, or sculptured the rock temple of Ammon, was involved the conception of Solomon’s Temple, the Parthenon, St. Peters, Westminster Abbey and every sacred fane of Europe and America.

Therefore, travel and exploration in this wonderful land, the remote but undoubted source of letters, morals, sciences and arts, are always interesting. Thebes, Memphis, Zoan-Tanis, Pitom, Tini, Philæ, Bubastis, Abydos, are but as fragments of mighty monuments, yet each discloses a story abounding in rich realities and more striking in its historic varieties than ever mortal man composed. But for the powerful people that made the Nile valley glow with empire, but for the tasteful people that made it beautiful with cities and monuments, but for the cultured people that wrote on stone and papyrus, were given to costly ceremonies, and who dreamed of the one God, the Israelites would have recrossed the Isthmus of Suez, or the Red Sea, without those germs of civilization, without those notions of Jehovah, which made them peculiar among their desert brethren, and saved them from absorption by the hardy tribes of Arabia and Syria.

In going from Europe across the Mediterranean to Egypt, you may think you can sail directly into one of the mouths of the Nile, and ascend that stream till the first cataract calls a halt. But neither of the great mouths of the Nile give good harbors. Like those of our own Mississippi, they are narrow and exposed by reason of the deposits they continually carry to the sea. The two main mouths of the Nile——it has had several outlets in the course of time——are over a hundred miles apart. The Western, or Rosetta, mouth was once the seat of a famed city from whose ruins were exhumed (1799) the historic “Rosetta Stone,” now in the British Museum. It was found on the site of a temple dedicated by Necho II. to Tum, “The Setting Sun;” and the inscription itself, written in three kinds of writing, Greek, hieroglyphic, and enchorial, or running hand, was a decree of the Egyptian Priests assembled in synod at Memphis in favor of Ptolomy Epiphanes, who had granted them some special favor. Its great value consisted in the fact that it afforded a safe key to the reading of the hieroglyphical writings found on all Egyptian monuments.

The Eastern, or Damietta, mouth of the Nile gives a better harbor, but the boats are slow. Beyond this is Port Said, where you can enter the ship canal across the Isthmus of Suez and pass to the Red Sea. But you are not now in the Egypt you seek. There are no verdant meadows and forests of date palms and mulberry, which give to the interior of Lower Egypt——covered with numerous villages and intersected by thousands of canals——the picturesque character of a real garden of God. You only see a vast sandy plain, stretching on either side of the canal. It is a sea of sand with here and there little islands of reeds or thorny plants, white with salty deposits. In spite of the blue sky, the angel of death has spread his wings over this vast solitude where the least sign of life is an event.

Speaking of canals, reminds one that this Suez Canal, 100 miles long, and built by M. de Lesseps, 1858-1869, was not the first to connect the waters of the Red Sea with the Mediterranean. One was projected B.C. 610 by Pharaoh Necho, but not finished till the time of Ptolemy Philadelphus, which ran from the Red Sea to one of the arms of the Nile. It was practically out of use in the time of Cleopatra.

The best Mediterranean port of Egypt is Alexandria, the glory of which has sadly departed. It is far to the west of the Rosetta mouth of the Nile, but is connected by rail with Cairo. Though founded 330 B.C., by Alexander the Great, conqueror of Egypt, as a commercial outlet, and raised to a population, splendor and wealth unexcelled by any ancient city, it is now a modern place in the midst of impressive ruins. Its mixed and unthrifty population is about 165,000.

As you approach it you are guided by the modern light house, 180 feet high, which stands on the site of the Great Light of Pharos, built by Ptolemy II., 280 B.C., and which weathered the storms of sixteen centuries, lighting the sea for forty miles around. It was of white marble and reckoned as one of the “Seven Wonders of the World.”

Standing in the streets of Alexandria, what a crowd of historic memories rush upon you. You are in Lower Egypt, the Delta of the Nile, the country of the old Pharaohs whose power was felt from the Mediterranean to the Mountains of the Moon, whose land was the “black land,” symbol of plenty among the tribes of Arabia and throughout all Syria, land where the Hebrews wrought and whence they fled back to their home on the Jordan, land of the Grecian Alexander, the Roman Cæsar, the Mohammedan Califf.

No earthly dynasty ever lasted longer than that of the Pharaohs. We hardly know when time began it, but Brugsch dates it from Menes, B.C. 4400. It fell permanently with Alexander’s Conquest, 330 B.C., and was held by his successors, the Greek Ptolemeys, for three hundred years, or until the Romans took it from Cleopatra, whose name is perpetuated in the famous Cleopatra’s Needles, which for nearly 2000 years stood as companion pieces to Pompey’s Pillar.

The Pillar of Pompey, 195 feet high, still stands on high ground southeast of the city, near the Moslem burial place. But the Needles of Cleopatra are gone. Late investigations have thrown new light on these wonders. They were not made nor erected in honor of Cleopatra at all, but were historic monuments erected by the Pharaoh, Thutmes III., 1600 B.C., at Heliopolis, “City of the Sun.” The two largest pair were, centuries ago, transported, one to Constantinople, the other to Rome. The two smaller pair were taken to Alexandria by Tiberius and set up in front of Cæsar’s Temple, where they obtained the well known name of “Cleopatra’s Needles.” One fell down and, after lying prostrate in the sand for centuries, was taken to London in 1878 and set up on the banks of the Thames. It is 68 feet high, and was cut out of a single stone from the quarries of Syene. The other was taken down and transported to New York, where it is a conspicuous object in Central Park. They bear nearly similar inscriptions, of the time of Thutmes III. and Rameses II.

Egypt fell into the hands of the Saracen invaders in A.D. 625, and has ever since been under Mohammedan or Turkish rule. The Alexandria of the Ptolemeys with its half million people, its magnificent temples, its libraries and museums, its learning and art, its commerce for all the world, has lost all its former importance, and is to-day a dirty trading town filled with a mixed and indolent people.

There is no chapter in history so sweeping and interesting as that which closed the career of Alexandria to the Christian world. It was the real centre of Christian light and influence. Its bishops were the most learned and potential, its schools of Christian thought the most renowned. It was in commerce with all the world and could scatter influences wider than any other city. It had given the Septuagint version of the Bible to the nations. All around, it had made converts of the Coptic elements, which were native, and Egypt’s natural defenders in case of war. But these it had estranged. Therefore the Saracen conquest was easy. Pelusium and Memphis fell. Alexandria was surrounded, and fell A.D. 640. “I have taken,” says Amrou, “the great city of the west with its 4000 palaces, 4000 baths, 400 theatres, 12,000 shops, and 40,000 Jews.” Amrou would have spared the great library of 700,000 volumes. But the Califf’s (Omar’s) answer came, “These books are useless if they contain only the word of God; they are pernicious if they contain anything else. Therefore destroy them.”

Aside from the monuments above mentioned, there is little else to connect it with a glorious past except the catacombs on the outskirts, which are of the same general character as those at Rome. These catacombs possess a weird interest wherever they exist. They abound in one form or another in Egypt, and are found in many other countries where, for their extent and curious architecture, they rank as wonders.

Those lately unearthed in the vast Necropolis of Memphis, and called the Serapeion, were the burial place of the Egyptian God Apis, or Serapis, the supreme deity represented by the bull Apis. This sacred bull was not allowed to live longer than twenty-five years. If he died before that age, and of natural causes, he was embalmed as a mummy and interred in the Serapeion with great pomp. Otherwise, he was secretly put to death and buried by the priests in a well. In the Serapeion are some magnificent sarcophagi in granite, and inscriptions which preserve the Egyptian chronology from 1400 B.C. to 177 B.C.

The great catacombs at Rome were the burial places of the early Christians. It was supposed they were originally the quarries from which the building stone of the city had been taken. But while this is true of the catacombs of Paris, it is now conceded that those of Rome were cut out for burial purposes only, less perhaps to escape from the watchfulness of despotic power, than in obedience to a wish to remain faithful to the traditions of the early church which preserved the Jewish custom of rock or cave sepulture. These catacombs are of immense and bewildering proportions. Their leading feature is long galleries, the sides of which are filled with niches to receive the remains. At first these galleries were on a certain level, twenty to thirty feet below the surface. But as space was required, they were cut out on other levels, till some of the galleries got to be as much as three hundred feet below the surface. There are some attempts at carving and statue work about the remains of illustrious persons, and many inscriptions of great historic value, but in general they have been much abused and desecrated, and we are sorry to say chiefly by Christian peoples, mostly of the time of the Crusades, who found, or supposed they would find, rich booty, in the shape of finger rings and other precious things laid away with the dead. MacFarlane, in his book upon the catacombs, tells of a company of gay young officers of the French army who entered them on a tour of inspection. They had plenty of lights, provisions, wine and brandy, and their exploration became a revel. They finally began to banter one another about venturing furthest into the dark labyrinthine recesses. One, as impious as he was daring, refused to leave the crypts till he had visited all. Darting away, torch in hand, he plunged into gallery after gallery, until his torch began to burn low and the excitement of intoxication left him. With great difficulty he found his way back to the chapel where he had left his companions. They were gone. With still greater difficulty he reached the entrance to the catacomb. It was closed. He shouted frantically, and madly beat upon the railings with a piece of tombstone. But it was night and no one could hear. In desperation he started back for the chapel. He fell through a chasm upon crackling, crumbling bones. The shock to his nerves was terrible. Crawling out, he reached the chapel, amid intolerable fear. He who had many a time marched undauntedly on gleaming lines of bayonets and had schooled himself to look upon death without fear, was not equal to the trials of a night in a charnel house. His thirst became intolerable. He stumbled upon a bottle left by his companions and, supposing it contained water, drank eagerly of its contents. In a few moments the drink acted with violence and, in his delirium, he became the victim of wild visions. Spectres gathered around him. The bones of the dead rose and clattered before him. Fire gleamed in eyeless skulls. Fleshless lips chattered and shrieked till the caves echoed. Death must soon have been the result of this fearful experience had not morning come and brought fresh visitors to the catacombs, who discovered the young officer in a state of stupor and took him to the hospital. For months he lay prostrate with brain fever. He had been taught the weakness of man in that valley of the shadow of death, and ever after gave over his atheistic notions, and lived and died a christian.

You may leave Alexandria by canal for the Nile, and then sail to Cairo. You will thus see the smaller canals, the villages, the peasantry, the dykes of the Nile, the mounds denoting ruins of ancient cities. You will see the wheels for raising water from the Nile by foot power, and will learn that the lands which are not subject to annual overflow must be irrigated by canals or by these wheels. You will see at the point where the Nile separates into its Damietta and Rosetta branches, the wonderful Barrage, or double bridge, intended to hold back the Nile waters for the supply of Lower Egypt without the need of water wheels. It is a mighty but faulty piece of engineering and does not answer its purpose. From this to Cairo the country gets more bluffy and, ere you enter the city, you may catch glimpses of the Pyramids off to the right.

But the speediest route from Alexandria is by rail. You are soon whirled into the Moslem city. Cairo is not an ancient city, though founded almost on the site of old Egyptian Memphis. It is Saracen, and was then Kahira (Cairo) “City of Victory,” for it was their first conquest under Omar, after they landed and took Pelusium. It was greatly enlarged and beautified by Saladin after the overthrow of the Califfs of Bagdad. It dates from about A.D. 640.

It is a thickly built, populous (population 327,000) dirty, noisy, narrow streeted, city on the east bank of the Nile. Its mosques, houses, gardens, business, people, burial places, manners and customs, tell at a glance of its Mohammedan origin. Its mosques are its chief attraction. They are everywhere, and some of them are of vast proportions and great architectural beauty. The transfer of the Mameluke power in Egypt to the present Khedives was brought about by Mohammed Ali, an Albanian. The Mamelukes were decoyed into the citadel at Cairo and nearly all murdered. One named Emim Bey escaped by leaping on horseback from the citadel. He spurred his charger over a pile of his dead and dying comrades; sprang upon the battlements; the next moment he was in the air; another, and he released himself from his crushed and bleeding horse amid a shower of bullets. He fled; took refuge in the sanctuary of a mosque; and finally escaped into the deserts of the Thebaid. The scene of this event is always pointed out to travelers.

It is a city divided into quarters——the European quarter, Coptic quarter, Jewish quarter, water carriers’ quarters, and so on. The narrow streets are lined with bazaars——little stores or markets, and thronged by a mixed populace——veiled ladies, priests in robes, citizens with turbaned heads, peddlers with trays on their heads, beggars without number, desert Bedouins, dervishes, soldiers, boatmen and laborers.

Abraham sent Eliezer to find a wife for Isaac. Matrimonial agents still exist in Cairo in the shape of Khatibehs, or betrothers. They are women, and generally sellers of cosmetics, which business gives them opportunity to get acquainted with both marriageable sons and daughters. They get to be rare matchmakers, and profit by their business in a country where a man may have as many wives as he can support.

Your sleep will be disturbed by the Mesahhar who goes about the city every morning to announce the sunrise, in order that every good Moslem may say his prayers before the luminary passes the horizon.

There is no end to the drinking troughs and fountains. Joseph’s well, discovered and cleaned out by Saladin, is one of the leading curiosities. It is 300 feet deep, cut out of the solid rock, with a winding staircase to the bottom.

West of the Nile and nearly opposite Cairo, is the village of Ghiseh, on the direct road to the pyramids, mention of which introduces us to ancient Egypt and the most wonderful monuments in the world.

Menes, “the constant,” reigned at Tini. He built Memphis, on part of whose site Cairo now stands, but whose centre was further up the Nile. The Egyptian name was Mennofer, “the good place.” The ruins of Memphis were well preserved down to the thirteenth century, and were then glowingly described by an Arab physician, Latif. But the stones were gradually transported to Cairo, and its ruins reappeared in the mosques and palaces of that place.

Westward of the Nile, and some distance from it, was the Necropolis of Memphis——its common and royal burying ground, with its wealth of tombs, overlooked by the stupendous buildings of the pyramids which rose high above the monuments of the noblest among the noble families who, even after life was done, reposed in deep pits at the feet of their lords and masters. The contemporaries of the third (3966 B.C. to 3766 B.C.), fourth (3733 B.C. to 3600 B.C.) and fifth (3566 B.C. to 3333 B.C.) dynasties are here buried and their memories preserved by pictures and writings on the walls of their chambers above their tombs. This is the fountain of that stream of traditions which carries us back to the oldest dynasty of that oldest country. If those countless tombs had been preserved entire to us, we could, in the light of modern interpretation, read with accuracy the genealogies of the kings and the noble lines that erected them. A few remaining heaps enable us to know what they mean and to appreciate the loss to history occasioned by their destruction.

They have served to rescue from oblivion the fact that the Pharaohs of Memphis had a title which was “King of Upper and Lower Egypt.” At the same time he was “Peras,” “of the great house”——written Pharaoh in the Bible. He was a god for his subjects, a lord par excellence, in whose sight there should be prostration and a rubbing of the ground with noses. They saluted him with the words “his holiness.” The royal court was composed of the nobility of the country and servants of inferior rank. The former added to dignity of origin the graces of wisdom, good manners, and virtue. Chiefs, or scribes carried on the affairs of the court.

The monuments clearly speak of Senoferu, of the third dynasty, B.C. 3766. A ravine in the Memphian Necropolis, where are many ancient caverns, contains a stone picture of Senoferu, who appears as a warrior striking an enemy to the ground with a mighty club. The rock inscriptions mention his name, with the title of “vanquisher of foreign peoples” who in his time inhabited the cavernous valleys in the mountains round Sinai.

The Pharaohs of the fourth dynasty were the builders of the hugest of the pyramids. The tables discovered at Abydos make Khufu the successor of Senoferu. Khufu is the Cheops of the historian Herodotus. His date was 3733 B.C.

No spirited traveler ever sets foot on the black soil of Egypt, without gazing on that wonder of antiquity, the threefold mass of the pyramids on the steep edge of the desert, an hour’s ride over the long causeway extending out from Ghiseh. The desert’s boundless sea of yellow sand, whose billows are piled up around the gigantic pyramids, deeply entombing the tomb, surges hot and dry far up the green meadows and mingles with the growing grass and corn. From the far distance you see the giant forms of the pyramids, as if they were regularly crystalized mountains, which the ever-creating nature has called forth from the mother soil of rock, to lift themselves up towards the blue vault of heaven. And yet they are but tombs, built by the hands of men, raised by King Khufu (Cheops) and two other Pharaohs of the same family and dynasty, to be the admiration and astonishment of the ancient and modern world.

We speak now of the three largest——there are six others in this group, and twenty-seven more throughout the Nile valley. They are perfectly adjusted to points of the compass——north, south, east and west. Modern investigators have found in the construction, proportions and position of the “Great Pyramid” especially, many things which point to a marvellous knowledge of science on the part of their builders. If the half they say is true of them, there are a vast number of lost arts to discredit modern genius. Some go so far as to trace in their measurements and construction, not only prophecy of the coming of Christ, but chart of the events which have signalized the world’s history and are yet to make it memorable. They base their reasoning on the fact that there was no architectural model for them and no books extant to teach the science requisite for their construction, that their height and bases bear certain proportions to each other, and to the diameter of a great circle, that they are on the line of a true meridian, that certain openings point to certain stars, and so on till ingenuity is exhausted.

The three large pyramids measure thus

Height Breadth of base Khufu (Cheops), Great Pyramid 450.75 feet 746 feet Khafra, Second “ 447.5 “ 690.75 “ Menkara, Third “ 203. “ 352.88 “

As soon as a Pharaoh mounted the throne he gave orders to a nobleman, master of all the buildings, to plan the work and cut the stone. The kernel of the future edifice was raised on the limestone rock of the desert in the form of a small pyramid built in steps. Its well constructed and finished interior formed the king’s eternal dwelling, with his stone sarcophagus lying on the stone floor. Let us suppose this first building finished while the king still lived. A second covering was added on the outside of the first; then a third; then a fourth; and so the mass of the giant building grew greater the longer the king lived. Then at last, when it became almost impossible to extend the area of the pyramid further, a casing of hard stone, polished like glass, and fitted accurately into the angles of the steps, covered the vast mass of the king’s sepulchre, presenting a gigantic triangle on each of its four faces. More than seventy of such pyramids once rose on the margin of the desert, each telling of a king, of whom it was at once the tomb and the monument.

At present the Great Pyramid is, externally, a rough, huge mass of limestone blocks, regularly worked and cemented. The top is flattened. The outside polished casing, as well as the top, has been removed by the builders of Cairo, for mosques and palaces, as have many of the finest ruins on the Nile.

The Sphinx was sculptured at some time not far removed from the building of the three great pyramids. Recent discoveries have increased the astonishment of mankind at the bulk of this monstrous figure and at the vast and unknown buildings that stood around it and, as it were, lay between its paws. It is within a few years that the sand has been blown away and revealed these incomprehensible structures. In a well near by was found a finely executed statue of Khafra, builder of the second pyramid.

There are other sphinxes, but this at the base of the Great Pyramid is the largest. It has a man’s head and a lion’s body, and is supposed to represent the kingly power of the sun god. Its length is 140 feet, and height 30 feet. Between its paws is an altar, to which you ascend by a long flight of steps. The Arabs call it “the fatherly terror.”

In the middle “chamber of the dead” of Menkara’s pyramid was found his stone sarcophagus and its wooden cover, both beautifully adorned in the style of a temple. They were taken out and shipped for England, but the vessel was wrecked, and the sarcophagus now lies at the bottom of the Mediterranean. The lid was saved and is now in the British Museum. On it is carved a text or prayer to Osiris, king of the gods: “O Osiris, who hast become king of Egypt, Menkara living eternally, child of heaven, son of the divine mother, heir of time, over thee may she stretch herself and cover thee, thy divine mother, in her name as mystery of heaven. May she grant that thou shouldst be like god, free from all evils, king Menkara, living eternally.”

The prayer is not uncommon, for parts of it have been found on other monuments. Its sense is, “Delivered from mortal matter, the soul of the dead king passes through the immense spaces of heaven to unite itself with god, after having overcome the evil which opposed it on its journey through earth.”

The entrance to the great pyramid was formerly quite concealed, only the priests knowing where to find the movable stone that would admit them. But now the opening is plain, and is about forty-five feet from the ground on the north side. Thence there is a descent through a narrow passage for 320 feet into the sepulchral chamber. The passage is much blocked and difficult. The great red granite sarcophagus is there, empty and broken, mute receptacle of departed greatness, for which the relic hunter has had quite too little respect.

With the end of the fifth dynasty pyramid building ceased. The glory of Memphis departed and went to Thebes, where kingly vanity seems to have sought outlet in the temple architecture whose ruins are the wonder of the world.

Above the old site of Memphis, is Toora, and out on its desert side are the pyramids of Sakkarah, eleven in number. The most remarkable is the Step Pyramid, believed to be more ancient than those of Ghiseh. But there is something even more wonderful here——the Temple of Serapis, which it took four years to disengage from the sands of the desert after its site was discovered. It seems to have been dedicated to Serapis, the sacred bull of Egypt. Beneath it is a great catacomb where once laid the remains of thousands of sacred bulls. Their stone coffins are still there, cut out of solid blocks of granite, and measuring fourteen feet long by eleven feet high.

Further up the Nile are the high limestone cliffs of Gebel-et-Teyr, on which perches the Coptic “Convent of the Pulley.” The monks who live here are great beggars. They let themselves down from the cliff and swim off to a passing boat to ask alms in the name of their Christianity.

The next town of moment is Siout, capital of Upper Egypt. It stands on the site of ancient Lycopolis, “wolf city,” and is backed in by lofty cliffs, from which the views are very fine. Further up is Girgeh, whence you must take journey on the back of donkeys to Abydos, off eastward on the edge of the desert. Here was the most ancient city of This, or Tini, where Mena reigned, on whose ruins Abydos was built, itself an antiquity and wonder. Here is the great temple begun by Seti I. and completed by his son Rameses II., 1333 B.C. Rameses II., was the Pharaoh of the Exodus. Its roof, pillars and walls are all preserved and the chiselling on the latter is something marvellous. What renders it doubly interesting is, the name of the sculptor is preserved. His name was Hi, and he must have been a man of decided genius, for his picture of the king and son taming the bull is quite spirited. In this temple is also the celebrated sculpture called the “Table of Abydos,” which gives a list of sixty-five kings, from Menes down to the last king of the twelfth dynasty, a period of 2166 years. It is a most invaluable record and has done much to throw light on Egyptian history. It was discovered in 1865. Abydos then, or Tini, was the starting point of Egyptian power and civilization, as we now know it. Here was the first dynasty of the Pharaohs, transferred afterwards to Memphis where the pyramids became their monuments, re-transferred to Thebes where the temples chronicled their greatness and grandeur. Old as Thebes is, Abydos is older, and Tini older still. Most carefully has the temple at Abydos been exhumed from the sand which has preserved it for three thousand years, most of the time against the hands of those who, knowing better, would have spoiled its fair proportions and its great historic value. Abydos seems to have been a city of tombs, and it is possible that the greatness of all Egypt sought it as a burial place.

The most powerful of these Theban Kings, were those of the twelfth dynasty and on, beginning 2466 B.C., though Thebes can be traced back to the sixth dynasty as a city. It was a period in which strong monarchs ruled, and the arts were cultivated with magnificent results. Thebes was the capital, and on its temples and palaces the most enormous labor and expense were lavishly bestowed. And this not in Thebes alone, but in all the cities of Egypt; and they all make history too, impressive, invaluable history.

Siout owes its present importance to the caravan trade with Darfur and Nubia. Passing on toward Thebes, the river banks get more and more bluffy. You soon come to Dendera on the west bank. Its ruins are magnificent, and by many regarded as the finest in Egypt. The portico of its ancient temple is inconceivably grand. Its length is 265 feet and height 60 feet. It is entirely covered with mystic, varied and fantastic sculptures, hieroglyphics, groups, figures of deities, sacred animals, processions of soldiers——in short the manners and mythology of all Egypt. The workmanship is elaborate and finished. The interior is no less beautiful. The roof contained a sculptured representation of the twelve signs of the Zodiac. It has been taken down and is now in the museum at Paris.

A few miles further on in this bewildering region of solid rock bluffs, immense quarries, deep sculptured caverns, you come to Thebes itself, “City of the hundred gates,” lying on both sides of the Nile, the reports of whose power and splendor we would regard as fabulous, were its majestic ruins not there still to corroborate every glowing account. Whatever of Egyptian art is older than that of the Theban era lacked the beauty which moves to admiration. Beginning with the Theban kings of the twelfth dynasty, the harmonious form of beauty united with truth and nobleness meets the eye of the beholder as well in buildings as in statues. The great labyrinth and the excavation for the artificial lake Mœris, at Alexandria, were made during this period. In Tanis, at the mouth of the Nile, was erected a temple whose inscriptions show not only the manners of the country with great historic accuracy, but tell the tale of frequent trade with the people from Arabia and Canaan.

The site of Thebes is an immense amphitheatre with the Nile in the centre. At first you see only a confusion of portals, obelisks and columns peeping through or towering above the palm trees. Gradually you are able to distinguish objects, and the first that strikes you is the ruins of Luxor on the eastern bank. They overlook the Arab village at their base, and consist of a long row of columns and the huge gateway of the Temple of Luxor. The columns are those of an immense portico, and by them stood two beautiful obelisks, one of which is now in the Place de la Concorde, Paris. The columns are monoliths, fully ten feet in diameter, and many of them in a perfect state. All are covered with inscriptions of various signification. This temple was built by Rameses II., and is therefore not one of the oldest in Egypt, though not the least interesting. On the westward or opposite side of the Nile is Memnon and the temple home of Rameses II. There is little or nothing of the temple there, but twin colossal statues stand in lonely desolation on the plain, and these once guarded the temple entrance. One is perfect, the other broken. Both measured sixty-four feet in height. They are sitting giants carved from solid stone. They represented King Amenhotep, in whose honor the temple was built. At their feet are small sitting statues, one of his wife Thi, the other of his mother Mutem-ua, each carved out of red sandstone mixed with white quartz, and each a marvellous exhibition of skill in treating the hardest and most brittle materials. They stand twenty-two feet apart. The northern, or broken one, is that which the Greeks and Romans celebrated in poetry and prose as the “vocal statue of Memnon.” Its legs are covered with inscriptions of Greek, Roman, Phœnician and Egyptian travelers, written to assure the reader that they had really visited the place or had heard the musical tones of Memnon at the rising of the sun.

In the year 27 B.C. the upper part of this statue was removed from its place and thrown down by an earthquake. From that time on, tourists began to mutilate it by cutting into it their befitting or unbefitting remarks. The assurances that they had heard Memnon sing or ring ceased under the reign of Septimius Severus who completed the wanting upper part of the body as well as he could with blocks of stone piled up and fastened together. It is a well known fact that split or cracked rocks, after cooling during the night, at the rising of the sun or as soon as the stone becomes warm, may emit a prolonged ringing note. After the statue was restored in the manner above described, the sound, if ever it emitted any, naturally ceased. The crack was covered by the masonry.

The story of the architect of this temple is told in the hieroglyphics. That part which relates to these two memorable statues tells how he conceived them without any order from the king, cut them out of solid rock, and employed eight ships to move them from the quarries down the Nile to Memphis. Even in our highly cultivated age, with all its inventions and machines which enable us by the help of steam to raise and transport the heaviest weights, the shipment and erection of the mammoth statues of Memnon remain an insoluble riddle. Verily the architect, Amenhotep the son of Hapoo, must have been not only a wise but a specially ingenious man of his time.

Back of the Memnon Statues and the ruins of the “Palace Temple,” which they guarded, and 500 yards nearer the Lybian desert, stood the Rameseion. It was both palace and temple. It is finely situated on the lowest grade of the hills as they begin to ascend from the plain, and its various parts occupy a series of terraces, one rising above the other in a singularly impressive and majestic fashion. Its outer gateway is grandly massive. Sculptures embellish it, very quaint and vivid. It formed the entrance to the first court, whose walls are destroyed. Some picturesque Ramessid columns remain, however; and at their foot lie the fragments of the hugest statue that was ever fashioned by Egyptian sculptor. It was a fitting ornament for a city of giants; such an effigy as might have embellished a palace built and inhabited by Titans. Unhappily, it is broken from the middle; but when entire it must have weighed about 887 tons, and measured 22 feet 4 inches across the shoulders, and 14 feet 4 inches from the neck to the elbow. The toes are from 2 to 3 feet long. The whole mass is composed of Syene granite; and it is offered as a problem to engineers and contractors of the present day,——How were nearly 900 tons of granite conveyed some hundreds of miles from Syene to Thebes? It is equally difficult to imagine how, in a country not afflicted by earthquakes, so colossal a monument was overthrown.

Such was the Rameseion. It looked towards the east, facing the magnificent temple at Karnak. Its propylon, or gateway, in the days of its glory, was in itself a structure of the highest architectural grandeur, and the portion still extant measures 234 feet in length. The principal edifice was about 600 feet in length and 200 feet in breadth, with upwards of 160 columns, each 30 feet in height. A wall of brick enclosed it; and a dromos, fully 1600 feet long, and composed of two hundred sphinxes, led in a northwesterly direction to a temple or fortress, sheltered among the Libyan hills.

This period of temple building and ornamentation which makes Thebes as conspicuous in Egyptian history as pyramid building had made Memphis, extended over several dynasties, and practically ended with the twentieth (1200 B.C. to 1133 B.C.) which embraced the long line of Rameses, except Rameses I. and II. This was the time of the Hebrew captivity and of the Exodus.

The most illustrious of all these kings——the Alexander the Great of Egyptian history——was Thutmes III., who reigned for 53 years, and carried Egyptian power into the heart of Africa as well as Asia. Countless memorials of his reign exist in papyrus rolls, on temple walls, in tombs and even on beetles and other ornaments. These conquests of his brought to Egypt countless prisoners of every race who, according to the old custom, found employment in the public works. It was principally to the great public edifices, and among those especially to the enlarged buildings of the temple at Amon (Ape) near Karnak, that these foreigners were forced to devote their time.

Though Karnak is several miles further up the Nile, and on the same side as Luxor, it is in the same splendid natural amphitheatre, and is a part of the grand temple system of Thebes and its suburbs. Let us visit its magnificent ruins before stopping to look in upon Thebes proper.

The Karnak ruins surpass in imposing grandeur all others in Egypt and the world. The central hall of the Grand Temple is a nearly complete ruin, but a room has been found which contained a stone tablet on which Thutmes III. is represented as giving recognition to his fifty-six royal predecessors. This valuable historic tablet has been carried away and is now in Paris. This temple was 1108 feet long and 300 wide. But this temple was only a part of the gorgeous edifice. On three sides were other temples, a long way off, yet connected with the central one by avenues whose sides were lined with statuary, mostly sphinxes. Many of the latter are yet in place, and are slowly crumbling to ruin. Two colossal statues at the door of the temple now lie prostrate. Across the entire ruins appear fragments of architecture, trunks of broken columns, mutilated statues, obelisks, some fallen others majestically erect, immense halls whose roofs are supported by forests of columns, and portals, surpassing all former or later structures. Yet when the plan is studied and understood, its regularity appears wonderful and the beholder is lost in admiration. Here are two obelisks, one 69 feet high, the other 91 feet, the latter the highest in Egypt, and adorned with sculptures of perfect execution. One hundred and thirty-four columns of solid stone, each seventy feet high and eleven in diameter, supported the main hall of the temple which was 329 feet by 170 feet. The steps to the door are 40 feet long and 10 wide. The sculptures were adorned with colors, which have withstood the ravages of time. Fifty of the sphinxes remain, and there is evidence that the original number was six hundred.

All who have visited this scene describe the impression as superior to that made by any earthly object. Says Denon, “The whole French army, on coming in sight of it, stood still, struck as it were with an electric shock.” Belzoni says: “The sublimest ideas derived from the most magnificent specimens of modern architecture, cannot equal those imparted by a sight of these ruins. I appeared to be entering a city of departed giants, and I seemed alone in the midst of all that was most sacred in the world. The forest of enormous columns adorned all round with beautiful figures and various ornaments, the high portals seen at a distance from the openings to this vast labyrinth of edifices, the various groups of ruins in the adjoining temples——these had such an effect as to separate me in imagination from the rest of mortals, and make me seem unconscious whether I was on earth or some other planet.”

And Karnak, like all Nile scenes, is said to be finer by moonlight than sunlight. But you must go protected, for the wild beast does not hesitate to make a lair of the caverns amid these ruins. Human vanity needs no sadder commentary.

This temple was the acme of old Egyptian art. Its mass was not the work of one king, but of many. It therefore measures taste, wealth and architectural vigor better than a book. But its founder, Thutmes III., left similar monuments to his power. They have been traced in Nubia, in the island of Elephantine, in various cities of northern Egypt, and even in Mesopotamia.

In Central Thebes you meet with ruins of the home palace or dwelling place of Rameses III. The king’s chamber can be traced by the character of the sculptures. You see in these the king attended by the ladies of his harem. They are giving him lotus flowers and waving fans before him. In one picture he sits with a favorite at a game of draughts. His arm is extended holding a piece in the act of moving. And so the various domestic scenes of the old monarch appear, reproducing for us, after a period of 3500 years, quite a history of how things went on in the palaces of royalty upon the Nile.

The tombs of Thebes surpass all others in number, extent and splendor. They are back toward the desert in the rocky chain which bounds it. Here are subterranean works which almost rival the pyramids in wonder. Entrance galleries cut into the solid rock lead to distant central chambers where are deposited the sarcophagi which contained the bodies of the dead. The walls everywhere, and the sarcophagi, or stone coffins, are elaborately sculptured with family histories, prayers, and all the ornaments which formed the pride of the living. Festivals, agricultural operations, commercial transactions, hunts, bullfights, fishing and fowling scenes, vineyards, ornamental grounds, form the subject of these varied, interesting and truly historic sketches. The chambers and passages which run in various directions contain mummies in that wonderful state of preservation which the Egyptians alone had the art of securing. They are found wrapped in successive folds of linen, saturated with bitumen, so as to preserve to the present the form and even the features of the dead. Alas! how these sacred resting places have been desecrated. The sarcophagi have been broken and carried away, and the mummified remains that rested securely in their niches for thousands of years have been dragged out to gratify the curiosity of sight seers in all quarters of the globe.

Beyond Thebes, the Nile enters a narrow sand-stone gorge. But just before you enter this you pass the very wonderful temple of Edfou, in almost a perfect state of preservation, further testimonial to the wealth, power and art of those old Theban kings. Entering the gorge, the rocks overhang the river for miles on miles. You are now in the midst of the sandstone quarries whence were drawn the material for many a statue and temple. At the head of the gorge is Assouan, trading point for the Soudan and Central Africa. It is the ancient Syene, and is the real quarrying ground of Egypt. The red granite from the steps of Syene is in the pyramids and all the mighty monuments of the Nile valley. Entering the vast quarries here, you can see a large obelisk not entirely detached from the solid rock, lying just as it was left by the workmen thousands of years ago. There are also half finished monuments of other forms still adhering to their mother rock, and a monstrous sarcophagus which had for some reason been discarded ere it was quite finished.

In the river opposite Assouan is the Island of Elephantine or “Isle of Flowers,” on which are the ruins of two temples of the Theban period. Three miles above is the first cataract of the Nile, which was reckoned as the boundary of Upper Egypt.

You are now 580 miles south of Cairo and 730 from the Mediterranean, on the borders of Nubia. Assouan is a border town now, with 4000 people, but in the time of old Theban kings, Syene was not on the margin of their empire and glory, nor did the wonders of the Nile valley cease here. A short way above Assouan is the beautiful island of Philæ, the turning point of tourists on the Nile, crowned with its temples, colonnades and palms and set in a framework of majestic rocks and purple mountains. The island was especially dedicated to the worship of Isis, and her temple is yet one of the most beautiful of Egyptian ruins, as much of the impressive coloring of the interior remains uninjured. The ruins of no less than eight distinct temples exist here, some of which are as late as the Roman occupation of Egypt.

One hundred and twenty miles above, or south of, the first cataract of the Nile, thirty-six miles north of the last, and quite within the borders of Nubia, the traveller, struck hitherto with the impoverished aspect of the country, suddenly pauses with astonishment and admiration before a range of colossal statues carved out of the rocky side of a hill of limestone, the base of which is washed by the famous river.

For centuries the drifting sands of the desert had accumulated over the architectural wonders of Ipsambul, and no sign of them was visible except the head of one gigantic statue.

No traveler seems to have inquired what this solitary landmark meant; whether it indicated the site of a city, a palace, or a tomb; until, in 1717, the enthusiastic Belzoni undertook the work of excavation. His toil was well rewarded; for it brought to light a magnificent specimen of the highest Egyptian art; a specimen which, with Champollion, we may confidently attribute to the palmiest epoch of Pharaonic civilization.

Every voyager who visits Ipsambul seems inspired with more than ordinary feelings of admiration.

Here, exclaims Eliot Warburton, the daring genius of Ethiopian architecture ventured to enter into rivalry with Nature’s greatness, and found her material in the very mountains that seemed to bid defiance to her efforts.

You can conceive nothing more singular and impressive, says Mrs. Romer, than the façade of the Great Temple; for it is both a temple and a cave. Ipsambul, remarks Sir F. Henniker, is the ne plus ultra of Egyptian labor; and in itself an ample recompense for the labor of a voyage up the Nile. There is no temple, of either Dendera, Thebes, or Philæ, which can be put in competition with it; and one may well be contented to finish one’s travels with having seen the noblest monument of antiquity in Nubia and Egypt.

There are two temples at Ipsambul——one much larger than the other; but each has a speos, or cavern, hewn out of the solid rock. Let us first visit the more considerable, consecrated by Rameses II. to the sun-god Phrah, or Osiris, whose statue is placed above the entrance door. An area of 187 feet wide by 86 feet high is excavated from the mountain, the sides being perfectly smooth, except where ornamented by relievos. The façade consists of four colossal statues of Rameses II. seated, each 65 feet high, two on either side of the gateway. From the shoulder to the tiara they measure 15 feet 6 inches; the ears are 3 feet 6 inches long; the face 7 feet; the beard 5 feet 6 inches; the shoulders 25 feet 4 inches across. The moulding of each stony countenance is exquisite.

The beauty of the curves is surprising in stone; the rounding of the muscles and the flowing lines of the neck and face are executed with great fidelity.

Between the legs of these gigantic Ramessids are placed four statues of greatly inferior dimensions; mere pigmies compared with their colossal neighbors, and yet considerably larger than ordinary human size. The doorway is twenty feet high. On either side are carved some huge hieroglyphical reliefs, while the whole façade is finished by a cornice and row of quaintly carved figures underneath a frieze of 21 monkeys, each eight feet high and six feet across the shoulders. Passing the doorway you enter a vast and gloomy hall. Here is a vast and mysterious aisle whose pillars are eight colossal giants on whom the rays of heaven never shone. They stand erect, with hands across their stony breasts; figures of the all-conquering Rameses, whose mitre-shaped head dresses, each wearing in front the serpent, emblem of royal power, nearly touch the roof. They are all perfectly alike; all carry the crosier and flail; every face is characterized by a deep and solemn expression. How different from the grotesque and often unclean monsters which embody the Hindoo conception of Divine attributes! They are the very types of conscious power, of calm and passionless intellect; as far removed from the petty things of earth as the stars from the worm that crawls beneath the sod.

These images of the great king are supported against enormous pillars, cut out of the solid rock; and behind them run two gorgeous galleries, whose walls are covered with historical bas-reliefs of battle and victory, of conquering warriors, bleeding victims, fugitives, cities besieged, long trains of soldiers and captives, numerous companies of chariots, all combined in a picture of great beauty and impressive effect.

This entrance chamber is 57 feet by 52 feet. It opens into a cellar 35 feet long, 25-1/2 feet wide and 22 feet high, and is supported in the centre by four pillars each three feet square. Its walls are embellished by fine hieroglyphs in an excellent state of preservation. Behind is a smaller chamber where, upon thrones of rock, are seated the three divinities of the Egyptian trinity Ammon-Ra, Phrah and Phtah, accompanied by Rameses the Great, here admitted on an equality with them. On either side of the outer entrance are doors leading to rooms hewn out of solid rock. They are six in number and each is profusely ornamented with lamps, vases, piles of cakes and fruits and other offerings to the Gods. The lotus is painted in every stage of its growth, and the boat is a frequent symbol. These bas-reliefs seem to have been covered with a stucco which was painted in various colors. The ground color of the ceiling is blue and covered with symbolic birds. Well may Champollion exclaim: “The temple of Ipsambul is in itself worthy a journey to Nubia;” or Lenormant say, “It is the most gigantic conception ever begotten by the genius of the Pharaohs.” It is a temple of Rameses II., of the nineteenth Theban dynasty, who figures as the Sesostris of the Greeks.

Hardly less interesting is the Little Temple of Ipsambul, dedicated to Athor, or Isis, the Egyptian Venus, by the queen of Rameses the Great. Either side of its doorway is flanked by statues thirty feet high, sculptured in relief on the compact mass of rock, and standing erect with their arms by their sides. The centre figure of each three represents the queen as Isis, her face surmounted by a moon within a cow’s horns. The other images are intended for King Rameses himself. Beneath the right hand of each are smaller statues representing the three sons and three daughters of the king and queen.

A portion of the rock, measuring one hundred and eleven feet in length, has been excavated to make room for the façade of the temple. The devices begin on the northern side with an image of Rameses brandishing his falchion, as if about to strike.

Athor, behind him, lifts her hand in compassion for the victim; Osiris, in front, holds forth the great knife, as if to command the slaughter. He is seated there as the judge, and decides the fate of the peoples conquered by the Egyptian king. The next object is a colossal statue of about thirty feet high, wrought in a deep recess of the rock: it represents Athor standing, and two tall plumes spring from the middle of her head-dress, with the symbolic crescent on either side. Then comes a mass of hieroglyphics, and above them are seated the sun-god and the hawk-headed deity Anubis. On either side of the doorway, as you pass into the pronaos, offerings are presented to Athor,——who holds in her hand the lotus-headed sceptre, and is surrounded with a cloud of emblems and inscriptions. This hall is supported by six square pillars, all having the head of Athor on the front face of their capitals; the other three faces being occupied with sculptures, once richly painted, and still exhibiting traces of blue, red, and yellow coloring. The shafts are covered with hieroglyphs, and emblematical representations of Osiris, Athor, Kneph, and other deities.

If these sacred edifices inspire a feeling of awe in the spectator, while in ruin, what must their effect have been when their shrines contained their mystics’ images; when the open portals revealed their sculptures and the walls their glowing colors to the worshipping multitudes; when the roofs shone with azure and gold; when the colossal forms represented the deities in whom they reposed their faith; when processions of kings, nobles and priests marched along their torch lit aisles; when incense filled the air and the vaults resounded with the music of ten thousand voices; when every hieroglyph and emblem had a meaning to the kneeling votary, now forgotten or never known?

Numerous other Nubian temples bear witness to Egyptian prowess, wealth, patience and religious sentiment. That at Derr is cut out of the solid rock to a depth of 110 feet, and its grand entrance chamber is supported by six columns representing Osiris. It was built in honor of the great Rameses. At Ibrim are four rock temples, all of the time of the Theban kings. And so the traveler up the Nile, and into the domains of far off Nubia, is continually meeting with these vast rock temples, monuments of the Egyptian kings on the one hand, tombs of the nobility on the other, and worshiping halls for all.

Returning to Egypt and passing down the eastern arm of the Nile to Tanis, or Beni-Hassan, where the Hebrews and Arabs were wont to trade with the Egyptians, we find one of the oldest authentic monuments, except the pyramids, and certainly the most interesting to us. It is the tomb of a nobleman under Usurtasen II. B.C. 2366. The rich paintings on the walls of this tomb are of inestimable value as showing the arts, trades, and domestic, public and religious institutions of the Egyptians at this period. They are still more valuable in an historic view, for they relate to the arrival of a family of thirty-seven persons from the Hebrew or Semitic nation, who had come to fix their abode on the blessed banks of the Nile. The father of the family is represented as offering a gift to the king. Behind him are his companions, bearded men, armed with lances, bows and clubs. The women are dressed in the lively fashion of the Amu tribe, to which the family belongs. The children and asses are loaded with baggage. A companion of the party is standing by with a lyre of very old form. The gift of the father, or patriarch, was the paint of Midian, an article highly prized by the Egyptians. Many persons have been eager to associate this inscription, or sculpture, with the arrival of the sons of Jacob in Egypt, to implore the favor of Joseph; but it antedates that event so far that there can be no possible connection between them. It does show however that arrivals in Egypt from Arabia and Palestine, for purposes of trade and even permanent residence, were not confined by any means to the scriptural period.

But where in Egypt do these wonders of monument, of sculpture, of sacred writing, not exist? We find them everywhere, telling of a people full of genius and the germs of all civilization. You read as you could not read from a book, for there is no conflict of sentiment, no odd statements to reconcile. And what do you read? That the art of writing was familiar to priest and scribe. That they had ships, for their inscriptions show handsome nautical designs. There are glass blowers, flax dressers, spinners, weavers, and bales of cloth. There are potters, painters, carpenters, and statuaries. There is a doctor attending a patient and a herdsman physicking cattle. The hunters employ arrows, spears and the lasso. There is the Nile full of fish and a hippopotamus among the ooze. There is the bastinado for the men and the flogging of a seated woman. There are games of ball and other amusements for men and women. And then the luxuries! There are harpers, costly garments, patterns of every design, fashions for the hair, costly spices and perfumes. They have portrayed every type of life and business with a faithfulness which is astonishing.

The most mysterious of Egyptian monuments is “The Caves of the Crocodiles,” or Grottoes of Samoun, in Upper Egypt. They are not often visited because travelers are repelled at the outset by their difficulty and gloom. They are filled with an incalculable number of human mummies, and those of the crocodile, birds and reptiles. Whence they came is not known, but, it is supposed, from Monfalout and Hermenopolis on the opposite side of the Nile. An English traveler, M. A. Georges, penetrated them after great trouble, and was horrified to find within the dark grottoes the remains of a traveler who had been overcome by famine and exhaustion. He says,

“On raising our eyes we perceived a horrid spectacle. A corpse still covered with its skin was seated on the rounded fragment of a rock. Its aspect was hideous. Its arms were outstretched, its head thrown back. His neck was bent with the death agony. His emaciated body, eyes enlarged, chin contracted, mouth twisted and open, hair erect on his head, every feature distorted by suffering——these gave him a horrible appearance.

“It made one shudder; involuntarily one thought of one’s-self. His shrunken hands dug their nails into the flesh; the chest was split open, displaying the lungs and tracheal artery; on striking the abdomen, it resounded hoarsely, like a cracked drum.

“Undoubtedly this man had been full of vital force when seized by death. Undoubtedly he had lost himself in these dark galleries, and his lantern having flickered out, he had vainly sought the track leading to the upper air, shouting in frenzied tones which none could hear; hunger, thirst, fatigue, terror, must have driven him nearly mad; he had seated himself on this stone, and howled despairingly until death had mercifully come to his relief. The warm humidity and the bituminous exhalations of the cavern had so thoroughly interpenetrated his body, that now his skin was black, tanned, imperishable, like that of a mummy. It was eight years since the poor wretch had been lost.

“On quitting this spot of mournful memory, we turned to the left through a corridor whose roof and walls were blackened by bituminous vapors, and in which it was possible to walk upright. Thousands of bats, attracted by the torches, assailed us with a whirr of wings, and considerably impeded our progress. We then arrived at the most interesting part of the grottoes: the soil, which gave way beneath our feet, was composed of the débris of mummies and their swathings; at every step arose a black, acrid, nauseating dust, as bitter as a compound of soot and aloes. An enormous number of crocodiles of all sizes encumber the galleries. Some are black, some corpulent, some gigantic, some not larger than lizards. The human mummies and those of birds are side by side with them.” The travelers did not reach the end of these interminable galleries. The heat was intense, and they grew tired of sickening impressions.

The mystery of the Nile regions above Kartoum were unlocked to geography and the scientific world more largely by Colonel Baker’s armed expedition than by any other. We shall soon have the pleasure of following him to Lake Albert Nyanza in company with his faithful wife, on a journey of exploration, but before doing so let us see what he did in the Upper Nile valley in an armed way and in the name of humanity and that civilization of which we all are justly proud, and thus complete our story of the wonderful river on which Egypt depends for its sustenance.

Colonel Baker, on his trip to Albert Nyanza found that at least 15,000 Arabs, subjects of the Khedive of Egypt, were engaged in the African slave trade, with head-quarters at Kartoum, and mostly in the pay of merchants there. They were nothing but cruel brigands, well armed and officered, and equal to any outrage on the natives to secure slaves and other booty. They sowed the seeds of anarchy throughout Africa, and contributed to the suspicion, treachery, black-mailing, and every evil that cropped out in the chiefs of the African tribes.

He determined to attack this moral cancer by actual cautery at the very root of the evil. These brigands were cowardly, and, he thought, could be crushed by a show of force, provided it emanated from the Khedive, the only sovereign they acknowledge. Therefore the Khedive was asked for authority, which he conferred, and Baker started having full power to suppress the slave trade, to reduce the countries south of Gondokoro, to annex them, to open navigation to the lakes under the equator, to establish military stations, to mete out death to all opponents, to govern all countries south of Gondokoro.

He took Lady Baker and a goodly number of English assistants along, contracted for provisions for four years, supplied himself with money, trinkets, tools, and a total of 36 vessels, six of which were small steamers, to be increased to 55 vessels and 9 steamers at Kartoum. The armed force consisted of 1,645 troops, 200 of which were cavalry, and two batteries of artillery. The troops were of the forces of the Khedive, half Egyptians and half natives of Soudan, the latter colored and by far the best warriors. There is something to be admired in these Soudanese soldiers. They are active, willing, brave and perfectly submissive to kind discipline. They have taste, skill and are acclimated. In their tribes they perpetuate traits which must have come down from old Egyptian times. Among the wives, especially of chiefs a favorite head dress is one which is supposed to reflect the appearance of the honored sphinxes, and it is, to say the least, very becoming.

Every precaution was taken to have all assemble at Kartoum, but the expedition was not popular in Egypt, the boats could not be gotten over the Nile cataracts, and months rolled away before the Colonel got ready to start. The fleet of thirty-three vessels in which he did start were nearly all prepared at Kartoum. On these he embarked 1400 men for his voyage of 1450 miles to Gondokoro. His cavalry was dismissed as useless, and his body guard was made up of a corps of picked men, forty-six in all, half of whom were white and half black, that there might be no conspiracy among them, and that the one might stimulate the other. This guard was put into perfect drill, armed with the Snider rifle, and named “The Forty Thieves,” on account of the propensity they at first manifested. They afterwards became models of military discipline.

On February 8, 1870, two small steamers and thirty-one sailing vessels started up the White Nile from Kartoum, with 850 soldiers and six months’ provisions. The rest were to follow as fast as transports could be supplied. In five days they were at Fashoda, in the Shillook country, 118 miles from Kartoum. On February 16 they reached the mouth of the Sobat, 684 miles from Kartoum. This stream was then sending down a volume of muddy water much larger than the White Nile itself.

They were now in the region of immense flats and boundless marshes through which the White Nile soaks and winds for 750 miles from Gondokoro. The river proper is almost wholly obstructed by compressed vegetation known as “sponge,” and at points this is so thick as to defy the passage of boats without cutting. But the slavers had discovered another route through an arm or bayou called the Bahr Giraffe, and this Baker determined to take. The Bahr Giraffe proved to be winding, but deep enough at first. Like the White Nile, its waters and banks abounded in game, the first specimen of the larger kind of which proved to be a lion, which bounded off to cover on the approach of the boats.

By February 25, they were in a mass of floating vegetation through which a canal had to be cut. These obstructions now became frequent and could only be pierced by means of canals and dams. On March 5, the Colonel was roused from a nap on the steamer’s deck by a shock, followed by a cry “The ship’s sinking!” A hippopotamus had charged the steamer from the bottom, and then had attacked her small boat, cutting two holes through her iron plates with his tusks. The diah-beeah was only kept from sinking by the aid of the steamer’s pumps.

Obstructions became thicker and canal cutting almost continuous. The men got sick with fever. The grass swarmed with snakes and poisonous ants. The black troops proved hardier and more patient than the Egyptians. There were some ducks but not enough to supply meat for all. The Colonel discovered a hippopotamus some distance off and ordered a boat to pull for him. He disappeared on its approach, but soon reappeared about thirty yards away. The Colonel planted a bullet in his head. The animal sank, but was found floating near the fleet the next morning. The men speedily cut him up and were delighted with their supply of fresh meat.

On March 21, while the men were digging out the steamers which had become blocked by the floating masses of vegetation, they felt something struggling beneath their feet. Scrambling away, they beheld the head of a crocodile protruding through the sudd. The black soldiers, armed with swords and bill-hooks, attacked him, and soon his flesh gladdened the cooking pots of the Soudan regiment.

In thirteen days the fleet only made twelve miles through the sudd, although a thousand men were at work all the time cutting and tugging. The Egyptians fell sick by scores, and many died. On March 27, another hippopotamus was killed, which gave the men a supply of fresh meat. Several buffaloes were also killed.

After having wasted fifty-one days since leaving Kartoum, it was discovered that the Bahr Giraffe became too shallow for further venture. Return was therefore compulsory, much to the disgust of the officers but to the great satisfaction of the troops. The whole season was lost, for no other route was practicable till there should come a flush of waters. And the return was hardly less difficult than the upward progress. The canals they had cut were filled with vegetable masses and had to be re-opened. But they finally reached the White Nile again and in time to intercept a Turkish slave party who had been raiding the Shillooks. Seventy-one slaves were found closely stowed away in their boat and eighty-four concealed on shore, under guard. These were liberated, and both slaves and captors informed that slavery had been abolished by the Khedive’s order.

The party sailed down the White Nile to its junction with the Sobat and there, on high, hard ground, prepared a permanent camp——really a little town with houses and workshops. The acquaintance of the Shillooks was made and cordial relations established. They brought their vegetables to camp to sell, and proved very kind and useful. But they had been greatly demoralized by the Arab kidnappers, as had all the tribes on both sides of the river.

Soon after they were stationed here a sail was observed bearing down the river. It proved to be that of the boat from which the slaves had been liberated up near the mouth of the Bahr Giraffe. It was ordered to stop and found to be loaded with corn. But there was an awkward smell about the forecastle. An officer drew a ramrod from a rifle and began to poke the corn. A cry came from beneath and a wooly head protruded. A woman was dragged forth by the arm. Then the planking was broken and the hold found full of slaves, packed like sardines in a barrel. Orders were given to immediately unload the vessel. One hundred and fifty slaves, many of them manacled, were taken out of that small, stench-ridden place. The slaves were released and the officers and crew of the boat put in irons. The former consisted of men and women. All were given freedom papers, and allowed the privilege of returning home. Those who did not wish to go might remain and they would be treated well. The women might marry the soldiers if they chose. Strange to say they all selected soldier husbands, and there would have been a grand wedding day after the African fashion, if Colonel Baker had not limited the engagements to a few at a time.

Land was cleared around the encampment, and all hands kept to work at mechanics, farming, hunting, etc. Meanwhile Colonel Baker went to Kartoum with his steamers and a fleet of sail boats for a supply of corn. He then returned and prospected up the White Nile only to find it hopelessly obstructed, unless a special expedition were sent up to cut away “the sponge” and other vegetable obstructions. He also found out that most of the leaders of the very brigands he was sent out to capture were in league with the home authorities, and that they had territory assigned them in which to operate, for which privilege they paid good round sums annually. He was therefore in the dilemma of openly serving a government which was secretly opposing him.

By December 1, 1870, at which time the Upper Nile would be in flood and the season propitious, he expected to start again from his camp at Tewfikeeyah for Gondokoro. But it was December 11 before his full fleet of twenty-six vessels got off. Not daring to risk the White Nile, he turned off again through the Bahr-Giraffe, which he found more open. Nevertheless canals had to be frequently cut through the vegetable obstructions, and nearly the same incidents as the year before were repeated. When they arrived at the shallows, there was not water enough and the boats had to be dragged over the bars, after discharging part of their cargoes.

Finally the White Nile was reached again, and all were thankful. Their last adventure in the Bafr Giraffe was with a hippopotamus which, in the night, dashed furiously on the small boats. The zinc boat was loaded with flesh. With one blow he demolished this. In another instant he seized the dingy in his immense jaws, and the crash of splintered wood told of its complete destruction. He then attacked, with a blind fury, the steam launch, and received shot after shot. Retreating for a time, he returned to the attack with even greater fury, when he received a ball in the head which keeled him over. He was evidently a character of the worst description for his body was literally covered with scars and wounds received in fights with bulls of his own species.

By March 10, all the vessels were afloat on the White Nile, and their further upward journey began. In a month (April 15) they were all safely at Gondokoro, 330 miles from Bahr Giraffe junction and 1400 from Kartoum. Gondokoro was much broken up and nearly depopulated. The Austrian Missionaries were gone and the place given over to raiders and kidnappers. The Bari tribes, great fighters and hunters, were in the employ of the Arab slave dealers, and Gondokoro was their headquarters. They received Colonel Baker coldly, for though they did not want to be slaves themselves, they had no objections to lending their aid to the Arab brigands to take slaves from other tribes, provided they were well paid for it.

A military station was founded at Gondokoro, on high ground, and as the river was now too low to proceed further, Baker’s army went into permanent quarters. Ground was planted in vegetables and corn, houses were built, boats were repaired, and an air of business pervaded the place. The Bari never fully reconciled themselves to Baker’s presence, preferring no government at all. They are a pastoral people, possessing large herds of cattle and living well. The men are tall and powerful, and the women not unprepossessing. But they have been so badly demoralized by the slave dealers as to be hostile to white men and to every form of restraint. They were clearly in with the brigands to starve Baker’s expedition out and force it to return to Kartoum.

Baker formally annexed all this country to Egypt, and promulgated a code of laws for its government. This brought him into actual war with all the Bari tribes and collisions were frequent, in which the natives were generally worsted. There were enemies in the water too, for the Nile at Gondokoro literally swarms with crocodiles. One of these animals tore an arm off a sailor, and another seized and devoured a washer woman who went into the water to do her washing. Many were killed by the men. Once the Colonel shot a very large one, measuring twelve feet six inches long. It was supposed to be dead and the men, having fastened a rope around its neck, began to pull it up the bank. It suddenly came to life and opened its huge jaws. The men ran off in fright, and could not be induced to return till another bullet was lodged in its skull.

The “Forty Thieves” were now a most efficient part of Colonel Baker’s forces. The Egyptians had been gradually eliminated, so that now nearly all were blacks from the Soudan. They had ceased to steal, and were models of bravery and soldierly drill and obedience. They became good shots and grew to know their superiority over the native spearmen. The entire force at Gondokoro numbered 1100 soldiers and 400 sailors. They were constantly menaced by the Bari, and never slept except under guard.

At length the various hostile tribes formed a coalition and, inflamed by the slave dealers, made a combined night attack. They were received so hotly that they soon dispersed, with the loss of many men. In this instance the fire of the “Forty Thieves” was most effective, and the natives declared they were more afraid of them than all the rest of the army. Watching from this time on was unceasing, and various offensive expeditions were fitted out whose business was to subdue the tribes by piece meal and make them acquainted with the new authorities and with the fact that dealing in slaves could no longer be tolerated on the White Nile nor in any country which might be annexed to Egypt.

Baker had found out to his regret that he could not establish monthly boat service between Gondokoro and Kartoum, as he had intended, owing to the formidable obstacles in the White Nile. Disease carried off his men and horses. A drought blighted the gardens and fields around his camp. By October, 1871, a conspiracy to desert and return to Kartoum cropped out, which involved all his troops except the “Forty Thieves.” To prevent this the vessels were run up the river on a prospecting tour. They made the discovery that corn in plenty existed in the Bari regions beyond. But it could not be bought. Whom these cunning natives could not drive out they were bound to starve out. The corn had therefore to be taken. It was a great relief to the garrison to know that they were not far from a land of abundance.

Still Colonel Baker thought it prudent to weed out his discontented forces and especially to get rid of the long list of women, children and sick who were now a burden. He therefore sent thirty vessels back to Kartoum in November. Besides a goodly supply of corn, they took along 1100 persons, leaving him with a force of about 550 soldiers and sailors. With this small force he was left to subdue hostile tribes, suppress the slave trade and annex the country. It seemed to him that the slave dealers had gained their point and defeated the object of the expedition.

Yet he persisted. Small land and river expeditions were sent out in all directions for the purpose of subjugating natives and crushing slave parties. It was on one of these that a herd of eleven bull elephants was seen from the deck of the vessel. Men were landed who surrounded them and drove them into the river. They swam to the opposite side, but the banks were high and the water deep. They were within rifle range from the vessel, and began tearing down the banks with their tusks in order to climb up. Fire was opened on them, which kept them in a state of confusion. At one time several mounted the bank, but it gave way and precipitated them all into the water. At last one got on firm ground and exposed his flank. A ball struck him behind the shoulder which sent him into the river. His struggles brought him within twenty yards of the vessel. Another bullet went crashing through his brain and despatched him. Another one was killed before the ammunition was exhausted. The carcasses of both became the prize of the men, and strange to say, many of the hostile natives, attracted to the spot by the firing, professed to be very friendly in order that they might share the rich elephant steaks. They preferred this meat to that of their own cattle, of which they had plenty.

By November, Colonel Baker called in all his expeditions. He had established peace throughout a wide section, and set free the slaves captured by several large parties. The war with the Baris was virtually over. But the slave dealers had only changed their base of operations. They had gone further south and would there stir up the same trouble they had incited among the Bari.

When all had re-assembled at Gondokoro, preparations were set on foot for a movement further south, the general course to be the line of the White Nile. While these were going on, those who had leisure devoted themselves to hunting, and studying the animal, mineral and vegetable resources. It was a country of great natural wealth. Iron and salt abounded. Tobacco, beans, corn, hemp and cotton could easily be raised. Nearly every tropical fruit was found in abundance. There was good fishing in the rivers, and plenty of ducks and other small game in the lakes and ponds. Every now and then the hunters had an adventure with hippopotami, whose attacks were always dangerous. Elephants were very plenty in all the region about Gondokoro. They saw them singly and in herds, and had fine opportunity to study their habits. They are fond of the fruit of the “Keglik” tree, which resembles a date. If the tree be small they quickly tear it up by the roots and eat the fruit at leisure. If it be large——and they frequently grow to a diameter of three feet——the animal butts his forehead against the tree till it quivers in every branch and showers its fruit down upon the delighted animal.

On January 23, 1872, the expedition was off, a garrison having been left at Gondokoro. Its final destination was the Unyoro country, just north of Victoria Nyanza and east of Albert Nyanza. We will hear of all these names again and become familiar with them. The expedition started under excellent auspices, except as to numbers. The “Forty Thieves” were staunch and brave, and all the Sudani soldiers were in good spirits. The Colonel’s light steamer led the way, followed by the heavier vessels. This gave him fine opportunity to prospect the country and enjoy occasional hunts. The mountains of Regiaf abut on the White Nile, about fifty or sixty miles above Gondokoro. In their midst is a fine cataract and much beautiful scenery. The geological formation is very peculiar. One curiosity was noted in the shape of an immense Syenite slab, forty-five feet long and as many wide, resting like a table on a hard clay pedestal. This stone is reverenced by the Baris, and they think that any person who sleeps under it will surely die.

The vessels could not go beyond the Regiaf cataract, and a journey overland to the Laboré country was projected. But all attempts to employ native carriers failed. The soldiers of Baker’s own force refused to draw the loaded carts. There was nothing left but to organize a small, light-armed and light-loaded force, and try the land journey in this way. This force started in February. The guide was old Lokko, a rainmaker of Laboré. Mrs. Baker went along, accompanied by a train of female carriers. They drove a herd of 1000 cows and 500 sheep. The country was thickly populated and teeming with plenty. The Laboré country was reached, after a sixty mile tramp, and they were in the midst of friends——the hated and hostile Baris having been left behind. Carriers could now be had in abundance and the journeys were rapid to the Asua, the largest tributary of the White Nile.

Here was a grand country. There were high mountains and fertile valleys, fine forests and plenty of game. The march now lay toward Fatiko, the capital of the Shooli. It lies at the base of the Shooa mountains, amid the most picturesque scenery, 85 miles from Laboré and 185 from Gondokoro. A grand entry into the town was made. The “Forty Thieves” and the rest of the troops were put into complete marching order. The band was ordered to play. There was a kind of dress parade and sham fight, mingled with drum and bugle sounds and the blare of the band. The manœuvres pleased the natives very much. They are fond of music, and as the troops reached a camping spot, the women of the village clustered around, assumed dancing attitudes, and in nature’s costume indulged in one of their characteristic fandanges, the old women proving even more inveterate dancers than the young.

Baker established a military station at Fatiko, leaving a detachment of 100 out of his 212 men. On March 18, 1872, he started for Unyoro. Though the intermediate country is rich in vegetation, it is uninhabited except by tropical animals, and is a common hunting ground for the tribes on either side. The Unyoros live east and north of Victoria Nyanza Lake. They are a numerous people, but not so stalwart as the Laborés or Schooli. Their soil is rich, and tobacco grows to an immense size. Their town of Masindi, twenty miles east of lake Albert Nyanza, whose waters can be seen from the summits of the mountains, was reached by the expedition on April 25. The country was placed under the protection of the Khedive, and the chief Kabba-Rega, son of Kamrasi, was made acquainted with the fact that hereafter slavery was prohibited. This tribe had been at times heavily raided by slave hunters, and their pens in different parts of the country were even then full of captives——probably 1000 in all. The natives themselves, as is usual with African tribes, only saw harm in this when the captives were of their own tribe. “Steal from everybody but from me,” seems to be their idea of the eighth commandment.

The expedition remained for some time in Masindi and attempted to establish a permanent military station. But the slave hunters seemed to have more power over the natives than Baker with his drilled forces and show of Egyptian authority. The chief and his subjects grew suspicious and finally hostile. They attacked Baker, and the result of the fight was their defeat and the destruction of their town by fire. Such an atmosphere was not congenial to peace and regular authority. Therefore a retreat was ordered toward Rionga on the Victoria Nile. But how to make it? Every surrounding was hostile. Porters could be had with difficulty. Worst of all, provisions were exhausted. At this critical moment Mrs. Baker came to the rescue with a woman’s wit and prudence. She had been laying up a reserve of flour when it was plenty, and now she brought forth what was deemed a supply for several days.

On June 14, 1872, the station at Masindi was destroyed, and the expedition started on its backward journey amid hostile demonstrations by the natives. The journey was almost like a running battle. Day attacks were frequent, and scarcely a night passed without an attempt at a surprise. The “Forty Thieves” became the main-stay of the expedition. They were ever on the alert, and proved very formidable with their trusty Snider rifles. They grew to know where ambuscades were to be expected, and were quick to dispose themselves so as to make defence complete or first attack formidable. They never fired without an object, and only when they had dead aim. And they knew the value of cover against the lances of the enemy. Their losses were therefore small, while they played havoc with the enemy, seldom failing to rout them, or to conduct an honorable retreat.

At length they struck the Victoria Nile at Foweera, fifteen miles below Rionga Islands. Here they built a stockade, and began to build canoes with which to cross the river which was 500 yards wide. Word was sent up to Rionga. The chief came and proved friendly. He informed the Colonel of the plot between Kabba Rega and the Arab slave hunters to drive him out of the country, and declared that he would be faithful to the Khedive’s authority. Whereupon Baker declared him chief instead of Kabba, and endowed him with full authority over the natives, in the name of the Khedive. Unyoro thus had a new king. He was left with a complement of Baker’s small army as a guard and nucleus, and the Colonel started down the river in canoes for his post at Fatiko. His small garrison, left there, received him gladly, but scarcely was the reception over when an attack was made upon it by the slave hunters. They were well prepared and determined. From behind huts and other places of safety they began to pick off the soldiers, and a charge of the “Forty Thieves” was ordered. It was brilliantly executed, and resulted in the dislodgment of the enemy and their pursuit for many miles with great slaughter and the capture of many prisoners, among whom were some 135 of their slaves.

This battle resulted in the driving out of Abou Saood, the leader of the slave hunters, and the man who had rented the whole country from the authorities at Kartoum for the purpose of brigandage. He went to Cairo to complain of the treatment he had received at the hands of Baker and his party, and actually circulated the report that he and Mrs. Baker had been killed on the head-waters of the Nile.

A strong fortification was built at Fatiko, which was finished by December, and reinforcements were sent for from Gondokoro. It was the hunting season, and many expeditions were organized for the capture of game, in which the natives joined with a hearty good will. Besides the rifle in skilled hands, the net of the natives for the capture of antelope and smaller game was much relied on, and once all enjoyed the magnificent sight of a tropical prairie on fire, with its leaping game of royal proportions, to be brought down almost at will, provided the hunter was not demoralized with its number and size.

While at Fatiko, an embassy came from King Mtesa of the Uganda professing friendship and offering an army of 6000 men for,——he did not know what, but to punish any natives who might appear to be antagonistic, especially Kabba Rega.

By March, 1873, reinforcements from Gondokoro arrived in pitiable plight. Baker’s forces were now 620 strong. He re-inforced his various military stations. Then he liberated the numerous slaves the upward troops had taken from the slave hunters. Most of these were women and back in their native country. They accepted liberty with demonstrations of joy, rushed to the officers and men on whom they lavished hugs and kisses, and danced away in a delirium of excitement.

Colonel Baker’s time would expire in April. Therefore he timed his return to Gondokoro so as to be there by the first of the month, 1873. The whole situation was changed. There was scarcely a vestige of the neat station he had left. The slave dealers had carried things with a high hand, and had demoralized the troops. Filth and disorder had taken the place of cleanliness and discipline. Things were put to rights by May, and on the 25 of that month Baker started down the Nile, leaving his “Forty Thieves” as part of the Gondokoro garrison.

On June 29, Colonel Baker, Mrs. Baker and the officers of this celebrated expedition arrived at Kartoum, and reached Cairo on August 24, whence they sailed for England.

He concludes his history thus:——“The first steps in establishing the authority of a new government among tribes hitherto savage and intractable were of necessity accompanied by military operations. War is inseparable from annexation, and the law of force, resorted to in self-defence, was absolutely indispensable to prove the superiority of the power that was eventually to govern. The end justified the means.

“At the commencement of the expedition I had felt that the object of the enterprise——‘the suppression of the slave trade’——was one for which I could confidently ask a blessing.

“A firm belief in Providential support has not been unrewarded. In the midst of sickness and malaria we had strength; from acts of treachery we were preserved unharmed; in personal encounters we remained unscathed. In the end, every opposition was overcome: hatred and subordination yielded to discipline and order. A paternal government extended its protection through lands hitherto a field for anarchy and slavery. The territory within my rule was purged from the slave trade. The natives of the great Shooli tribe, relieved from their oppressors, clung to the protecting government. The White Nile, for a distance of 1,600 miles from Kartoum to Central Africa, was cleansed from the abomination of a traffic which had hitherto sullied its waters.

“Every cloud had passed away, and the term of my office expired in peace and sunshine. In this result, I humbly traced God’s blessing.”

Baker’s picture is much overdrawn. The situation in the Soudan has never been promising. In 1874, Colonel James Gordon was made Governor General of all these equatorial provinces which Baker had annexed to Egypt. Gordon was a brave enthusiast, who had acquired the title of “Chinese” Gordon, because he had organized an army at Shanghai, and, as Brigadier, helped the Chinese Government to put down a dangerous rebellion. He had received the order of Mandarin, had infinite faith in himself, and a wonderful faculty for controlling the unruly elements in oriental countries. He did some wonderful work in the Soudan in suppressing the slave-trade, disarming the Bashi-Bazouks, reconciling the natives, and preventing the Government at Cairo from parcelling out these equatorial districts to Arab slave dealers. He worked hard, organized quite an army, and had a power in the Soudan which was imperial, and which he turned to good uses. But in 1879, he differed with the Khedive and resigned. Then England and France deposed the Khedive, Ismial, and set up Tewfik, under pretext of financial reform. But these two countries could not agree as to a financial policy. France withdrew, and left England to work out the Egyptian problem. The problem is all in a nutshell. English ascendancy in Egypt is deemed necessary to protect the Suez Canal and her water way to India. For this she bombarded and reduced Alexandria in 1882 and established a suzerainty over Egypt——Turkey giving forced assent, and France refusing to join in the mix.

The new Khedive was helpless——purposely so. England planted within Egypt an army of occupation and took virtual directorship of her institutions. But the provinces all around, especially those newly annexed by Baker, revolted. Their Moslem occupants would not acknowledge English interference and sovereignty. Soudan was in rebellion both east and west of the Nile. England sent several small armies toward the interior and fought many doubtful battles. At length the project of reducing the Soudan was given over. But how to get the garrisons out of the leading strongholds in safety became a great problem. That at Kartoum was the largest, numbering several hundred, with a large contingent of women and children. It would be death for any of these garrisons to leave their fortifications and try boats down the Nile, or escape by camel back across the desert. Yet England was committed to the duty of relieving them.

The rebellion was under the lead of the Mahdi, a Moslem prophet, who claimed to be raised up to save his people and religion. His followers were numerous and desperate. Gordon thought the old influence he had acquired over these people when Governor General of the Soudan, would avail him for the purpose of getting the forlorn garrisons away in safety. He was therefore re-appointed Governor General in 1884, and started with Colonel Stewart for Kartoum. There they were besieged for ten months by the Mahdi’s troops, and there Gordon was killed (January 27, 1885) by the enemy, and all his garrison surrendered or were killed. The English sent an army of 8,000 men up the Nile to rescue Gordon, and part of it got nearly to Kartoum, when word of the sad fate that had befallen the garrison reached it. The expedition retreated, and since then the Soudan and Upper Nile have been given over to the old Arab and slave stealing element.

SOURCES OF THE NILE.

By reversing the map of North America——turning it upside down——you get a good river map of Africa. The Mississippi, rising in a lake system and flowing into the gulf of Mexico, becomes the Nile flowing into the Mediterranean——both long water-ways. The St. Lawrence, rising in and draining the most magnificent lake system in the world, from Huron to Ontario, will represent the Congo, rising in and draining a lake system which may prove to be of equal extent and beauty. Both are heavy, voluminous streams, full of rapids and majestic falls. The Columbia River will represent the Zambesi, flowing into the Indian Ocean.

Civilized man has, perhaps, known the African Continent the longest, yet he knows it least. Its centre has been a mystery to him since the earliest ages. If the Egyptian geographer traced the first chart, and the astronomer there first noted the motion of sun, moon and stars; if on the Nile the first mariner tried his bark on water; it was but yesterday that the distant and hidden sources of the great stream were revealed, and it is around these sources that the geographer and naturalist have now the largest field for discovery, and in their midst that the traveller and hunter have the finest fields for romance and adventure.

The Mississippi has in three centuries become as familiar as the Rhine. The Nile, known always, has ever nestled its head in Africa’s unknown Lake Region, safe because of mangrove swamp and arid waste. But now that the secret of its sources is out, and with it the fact of a high and delightful inner Africa, full of running streams and far stretching lakes, of rich tropical verdure and abundant animal life, is the dream a foolish one that here are the possibilities of an empire whose commerce, agriculture, wealth and enlightenment shall make it as powerful and bright as its past has been impotent and dark?

We have known Africa under the delusion that it was a desert, with a fringe of vegetation on the sea coast and in the valley of the Nile. “Africs burning sands” and her benighted races are the beginning and end of our school thoughts of the “Dark Continent.” True, her Sahara is the most unmitigated desert in the world, running from the Atlantic Ocean clear to the Tigris in Asia——for the Red Sea is only a gulf in its midst. True, there is another desert in the far South, almost as blank. These, with their drifting sands, long caravans, ghastly skeletons, fierce Bedouin wanderers, friendly oases, have furnished descriptions well calculated to interest and thrill. But they are by no means the Africa of the future. They are as the shell of an egg, whose life and wonder are in the centre.

There are many old stories of African exploration. One is to the effect that a Phœnician vessel, sent out by Pharaoh Necho, left the Red Sea and in three years appeared at the Straits of Gibraltar, having circumnavigated the Continent. But it required the inducement of commercial gain to fix its boundaries exactly, to give it place on the map of the world. Not until a pathway to the east became a commercial necessity, and a short “North West Passage” a brilliant hope, did the era of Arctic adventure begin. The same necessity, and the same hope for a “South East Passage,” led the Portuguese to try all the western coast of Africa for a short cut to the Orient. For seventy years they coasted in vain, till in 1482 Diaz rounded the “Cape of Storms,” afterwards called Cape of Good Hope. Twelve years later Vasco de Gama ran the first European vessel into the ports of India.

The first permanent stream found by the Portuguese on going down the Atlantic, or west, coast of Africa was the Senegal River. They thought it a western outlet of the Nile. Here Europe first saw that luxuriant, inter-tropical Africa which differed so much from the Africa of traditions and school books. They knew that something else than a sandy waste was necessary to support a river like the Senegal. They had been used to seeing and reading of the tawny Bedouin wanderers, but south of this river they found a black, stout, well made people, who in contradistinction to the thin, tawny, short Moors of the desert, became Black Moors——“black-a-moors.” And in contrast with the dry, sandy, treeless plains of Sahara they actually found a country verdant, woody, fertile and rolling.

Unhappily the wrongs of the negro began with his first contact with Europeans. The Portuguese took him home as a specimen. He then became a slave. The moral sense of Europe was still medieval. Her maritime nations fastened like leeches on the west coast of Africa and sucked her life blood. Millions of her children were carried off to Brazil, the West Indies, the Spanish Main, and the British colonies in North America and elsewhere. Much as we abhor the slave system of Africa as carried on at present by Turkish dealers, it is no more inhuman than that practiced for three hundred years by the Christian nations of Europe.

This slave trade was fatal to discovery and research in Africa, such as was warranted by the knowledge which the Portuguese brought, and which is now warranted, and being realized too, by the recent revelations of Stanley, Livingstone and others. The slaver could not, because he dared not, venture far from his rendezvous on the river or in the lagoon where his victims were collected. He kept his haunts a secret, and closed the doors on all who would be likely to interfere with his gains. Not until slavery received its death blow among civilized nations did they begin to set permanent feet, in a spirit of scientific and christian inquiry, on the interior soil of Africa, and to map out its blank spaces with magnificent lakes and rivers. Then began to come those stirring narratives of travel by Mungo Park, Landers and Clapperton, who tracked the course of the Niger River. Then began that northern march of sturdy and permanent Dutch and English colonists who are carrying their cultivation and civilization from the Southern Cape to the Kalihari Desert, the southern equivalent of the Sahara. Then also a Liberian Free State became possible, founded and ruled by the children of those who had been ruthlessly stolen from their happy equatorial homes and sold into bondage in the United States.

Between the two sterile tracts of Africa lies the real Continent. All the coast lands are a shell. Egypt is but a strip on either side the Nile. Central Africa——the Lake regions which feed the Nile, Congo and Zambesi——is a great and grand section, where nature has been prodigal in all her gifts, and which invites a civilization as unique and strong as its physical features. We may wonder at the strange things revealed by Arctic research, but here are unrivalled chains of lake and river communication, and powerful states with strange peoples and customs, of which the last generation never dreamed. No spot of all the earth invites to such adventure as this, and none profiteth so much in the revelations which add to science and which may be turned to account in commerce and the progress of civilization.

We have read the roll of names rendered immortal by efforts to reach the two Poles of the earth. Africa’s list of explorers contains the names of Livingstone, Gordon, Cameron, Speke, Grant, Burton, Baker, Schweinfurth, Stanley, Kirk, Van der Decken, Elton, Pinto, Johnston, and others, some of whom have laid down their lives in the cause of science, and every one recalling memories of gigantic difficulties grappled with, of dangers boldly encountered, of sufferings bravely borne, of great achievements performed, and all within the space of twenty years.

Before entering these Lake Regions of Africa to see what they contain, it is due to the past to recall the fact that an old chart of the African Continent was published at Rome in 1591, which contains a system of equatorial lakes and rivers. It shows the Blue Nile coming out of Abyssinia, and the White Nile taking its rise in two great lakes under the equator——the Victoria Nyanza of Speke, and the Albert Nyanza of Baker. Due south from Albert Nyanza is another lake which is the equivalent of Tanganyika, and this is not only connected with the Congo but with the Nile and Zambesi. Cameron and Stanley have both shown that Tanganyika sends its surplus waters, if any it has, to the Congo, and Livingstone has proven that the head waters of these two mighty rivers are intimately connected. Is this ancient map a happy guess, or does it present facts which afterwards fell into oblivion? Ere the slave trade put its ban between the coast traders and the dwellers of the interior, ere Portuguese influence ceased in Abyssinia, and the missions of the Congo left off communications with Rome, did these unknown regions yield their secrets to the then existing civilization? May not this geographic scrap, dug from among the rubbish of the Vatican library, be the sole relic now extant of a race of medieval explorers the fame of whose adventures has fallen dumb, and whose labors have to be gone over again?

The map of Africa, used in our school days, had a blank centre. No geographer had soiled its white expanse with lines and figures. It was the “happy hunting ground” of conjecture and fancy. The Zambesi and Congo were short stumps of rivers, with perhaps a dotted line to tell what was not known. When two traders——the Pombeiros——passed from Angola on the west to the Pacific, in the beginning of the present century, and wrote how they had crossed a hundred rivers, visited the courts of powerful negro kings, traversed countries where the people had made considerable progress in the industries and arts, their story, like that of other pioneers, was discredited and their information treated with contemptuous neglect.

But about thirty years ago the modern world was startled and gratified with its first glimpse at the Lake Regions of Africa. In 1849, Livingstone, Oswell and Murray, after weary marching across the Kalihari, or southern, desert, stood on the margin of Lake Ngami, the most southerly and first discovered of the great chain of equatorial lakes. They expected to find only a continuation of desert sands and desert hardships, but, lo! a mighty expanse of waters breaks on their vision, worth more as a discovery than a dozen nameless tribes or rivers. What could it mean? Was this the key to that mysterious outpour of rivers which, flowing north, east, and west, blended their waters with the Mediterranean, the Pacific and Atlantic? The discoverer could go no further then, but fancy was excited with the prospect of vague and limitless possibilities and speculation became active in every scientific centre. Back again into the wilderness the discoverer is drawn, and a score of others plunge into the unknown to share his fame.

From the discovery of Ngami, a broad sheet into which the Cubango, south of the Zambesi and parallel with it, expands ere it plunges into the great central Salt Pan (a Great Salt Lake), may be dated the revival of modern curiosity in the secrets of the African Continent.

In the Portuguese colonies of Abyssinia, there were rumors that a great lake existed north of the Zambesi, called Maravi or Nyassa. Its outflow was unknown, and the theory was that it was one of a long chain which fed the Nile. They thought no other stream was worthy of such a source, but they did not ask, whence then the mightier volumes that pour through the Congo and Zambesi? Others said the Nile finds ample sources in the “Mountains of the Moon.” Nobody had seen these, but old Ptolemy, the geographer, had said so two thousand years ago, and hundreds of years before, Herodotus had written, in obedience to the dictates of two Egyptian priests, that “two conical hills, Crophi and Mophi, divided the unfathomable waters of the Nile from those which ran into Ethiopia.”

This is all the information we had of the sources of the Nile down to 1863——at least of the White, or Eastern, branch of the Nile. Then it was that Speke and Grant, coming from the south, and Baker following the valley of the river toward the equator, almost met on the spot which contains its true sources. Poor Livingstone could not be made to see the merit of their discovery. He clung to the story of Herodotus, amplified by that of Ptolemy, which fixed the head of the great river in two lakes some ten degrees south of the Equator. Livingstone believed that the high water-shed between the Zambesi and Congo would pass for the Mountains of the Moon, and that in the Lualaba, flowing northward (the Lualaba afterwards turned out to be the Congo, as Stanley showed) he had the track of the true Nile. Following this will-o-the-wisp into the swamps of Lake Bangweolo, he met a lonely and lingering death.

To look on the sources of the Nile was ever a wish and dream. The conquerors of Egypt, at whatever time and of whatever nation, longed to unravel the problem of its fountains. In the days when a settled population extended far into Nubia and a powerful state flourished at Meroë, near the junction of the White and Blue Nile, the tramp of armed hosts in search of the “mythical fountains,” favorite haunt of Jove himself when he wished seclusion, often resounded in the deep African interior. Sesostris, the first king who patronized map making, made attempts to discover these springs. Alexander the Great, Cambyses the Persian, and the Roman Cæsars, were inspired with the same wish. Julius Cæsar said he would give up civil war could he but look on the sources of the Nile. Nero sent out a vast exploring party who told of cataracts and marshes which compelled their return. These expeditions were formidable. They returned empty handed as to science, but generally loaded with spoils of conquest. The idea of a solitary explorer, with his life in his hand and good will toward all in his heart, encountering all the perils and privations of African travel for pure love of knowledge, is wholly a modern conception.

Let mention be made here of Ismail Pasha, ex-viceroy of Egypt. To the practices of an oriental despot he added the spirit of a man of modern science. To him, more than to any other man, do we owe a complete solution of the mystery of the Nile. He plunged Egypt into inextricable debt, he ground his people with taxes, but he introduced to them the light of western knowledge, he granted the concessions which built the Suez Canal, he sought out and annexed the sources of the Nile. For twenty years European pioneers and explorers, in his pay or under his protection, worked their way southward, mapping lakes and rivers, founding settlements, capturing slave gangs, until the entire Nile Valley either acknowledges Egypt or is open to commerce and civilization, unless forsooth the recent Soudanese protest, made by the fanatical El Mahdi and his followers, should prove to be more persistent and better sustained than now seems probable.

Our trip up the Nile to Assouan, or the first cataract, past the silent shapes of the temples, sphinxes and pyramids, surrounded by sights and sounds of Oriental life, was as pastime. But now the holiday journey ends, and we are face to face with the realities and hardships of a Nubian desert. The Nile is no longer verdant on either side. The sands, dry and barren, form its shores. But that is not all. You skirt it to Korosko amid difficulties, and there you are at its great bend. If you followed it now to the next place of importance, Abu-Hammed, you would have to travel nearly 600 miles. The waters are broken by falls and the country is desolate. No one thinks of the journey, unless compelled to make it. The course is that of the caravans across the Korosko desert to Abu-Hammed. It is 400 miles of dreary waste, and calculated to burn out of the traveller any romance he may have entertained of Nubian adventure. Day marching over this desert is impossible at certain seasons. Night is given up to the uneasy motion of camel riding and the monotony of a desert tramp.

Do not think the ground is even. Here and there it is broken by wady’s or gulches, and as you descend into these the eye may be relieved with sight of vegetation. Perhaps a gazelle dashes away in fright to the nearest sand hills, or it may be you catch a glimpse of a naked Arab youth tending his flock of goats, for even desert wastes are not utterly void of plant and animal life.

These deserts are not even rainless, though as much as four years have been known to pass without a shower. A rain storm is watched with breathless hope by the nomad Arab tribes. They see the clouds drifting up from the distant Indian Ocean and pitching their black tents on the summits of the mountains that divide the Nile Valley from the Red Sea. A north wind may blow during the night and sweep them back whence they came. But more likely they burst into thunderstorm, as if all the storms of a season were compressed into one. The dry wadys of yesterday are roaring torrents by morning, bearing to the Nile their tribute of a single day, and for a day or a week, the desert air is pure and the desert sand shoots a tender vegetation, only to be withered, like Jonah’s gourd, in fewer hours than it sprang.

The Arab camel driver, however, knows well a few spots where are running water and green turf the year round. These are the oases, or stepping stones, by means of which the burning wilderness may be crossed. Sometimes the wells fail, or have been poisoned or filled, or are in the possession of a hostile predatory band. Then the unfortunate traveller has to face death by thirst or exhaustion as he hurries on to the next halting place. At any rate he is profoundly thankful when the welcome waters of the Nile come into view again at Abu-Hammed, and he knows he is within safe navigable distance of Kartoum, at the junction of the White and Blue Nile.

And now, in passing from Abu-Hammed to Kartoum, we have a grand secret of the Nile. For twelve hundred miles above its mouth that mysterious river receives no tributary on the right hand nor on the left. It may be traced like a ribbon of silver with a narrow fringe of green, winding in great folds through a hot and thirsty desert and under the full blaze of a sun that drinks its waters but returns nothing in the shape of rain. And man also exacts a heavy tribute for purposes of irrigation. Whence its supply? Look for a partial answer to the Atbara, whose mouth is in the east bank of the Nile, half way from Abu-Hammed to Kartoum. Here light begins to break on the exhaustless stores of the Nile. During the greater part of the year the Atbara is dry. Not a hopeful source of supply, you say at once. The sources of the Atbara are away off to the east in the mountains of Abyssinia, whose great buttresses are now visible from the Nile Valley, and whose projections push to the Red Sea and Indian Ocean. There also are a Lake Region and Nile sources, whose discovery by Bruce a century ago gave the scientific world quite a stir. His account of this Abyssinian country, so unique in physical features, social life, history, religion and ancient remains, read so much like romance that it was not believed. But Beke, De Cosson, James Bruce and the great Livingstone, have since verified all and given him his proper place among accurate observers and intrepid travellers.

But it was Sir Samuel Baker, on his first journey up the Nile in 1861, who pointed out the importance of the Abyssinian rivers as Nile tributaries. He turned aside from his southward route and followed the dry bed of the Atbara for a double purpose. First, to watch the great annual flooding of this Nile feeder. Second, to enjoy the sport of capturing some of the big game, such as the elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, giraffe and lion, known to abound in the thick jungles covering the lower slopes of the adjacent hills.

The Atbara, or “Black Nile,” was simply a vast wady or furrow, thirty feet deep and 400 yards to half a mile across, plowed through the heart of the desert, its edges marked by a thin growth of leafless mimosas and dome palms. The only trace of water was here and there a rush-fringed pool which the impetuous torrent had hollowed out in the sudden bends in the river’s course, and where disported themselves hippopotami, crocodiles, and immense turtles, that had long ago adjusted their relations on a friendly footing on the discovery that none of them could do harm to the others. On the 23 of June, the simoom was blowing with overpowering force; the heat was furnace-like, and the tents of travellers were covered with several inches of drifted sand. Above, in the Abyssinian mountains, however, the lightnings were playing and the rains were falling as if the windows of heaven had been opened. The monsoon had set in; the rising streams were choking their narrow channels in their frantic rush to the lowlands, and were tearing away huge masses of the rich dark soil, to be spread a month hence over the flat plains of Egypt. The party encamped on the Atbara heard through the night a sound as if of distant thunder; but it was “the roar of the approaching water.”

Wonder of the desert! Yesterday there was a barren sheet of glaring sand with a fringe of withered bush and tree. All nature was most poor. No bush could boast a leaf. No tree could throw a shade. In one night there was a mysterious change——wonders of the mighty Nile! An army of waters was hastening to the wasted river. There was no drop of rain, no thunder cloud on the horizon to give hope. All had been dry and sultry. Dust and desolation yesterday; to-day a magnificent stream five hundred yards wide and twenty feet deep, dashing through a dreary desert. Bamboos, reeds, floating matter of all kinds, hurry along the turbid waters. Where are all the crowded inhabitants of the pools? Their prison-doors are open, the prisoners are released, and all are rejoicing in the deep sounding and rapid waters of the Atbara.

Here is the clue to one part of the Nile mystery——its great annual inundations, source of fertilizing soil and slime. The Blue Nile, further on, and with its sources in the same Abyssinian fastnesses, contributes like the Atbara, though in a secondary degree, to the annual Nile flood and to Egypt’s fertility, with this difference, that it flows all the year round.

At Kartoum, as already seen, we reach the junction of the White and Blue Nile, the frontier of two strongly contrasted physical regions, and the dividing line between the nomadic barbarism of the north and the settled barbarism of the south. The secret that has still to be unveiled is the source of that unfailing flow of water which perpetually resists the influences of absorption, evaporation and irrigation, and carries a life giving stream through the heart of Egypt at all seasons of the year.

Kartoum has ingrafted all the vices of its northern society on the squalor and misery of its southern. A more miserable, filthy and unhealthy spot can hardly be imagined. Yet it is not uninteresting, for here, up to a recent period, was the “threshold of the unknown.” It has been the starting point of numberless Nile expeditions since the days of the Pharaohs. Mehemet Ali, first viceroy of Egypt, pushed his conquest of the Soudan, a little south of it in 1839. He found the climate so unhealthy that he established a penal colony a little way up the White Nile, banishment to which was considered equivalent to death.

Says Sir Samuel Baker of Kartoum, on his second visit in 1869: “During my first visit in 1861, the population was 30,000. It is now reduced one-half, and nearly all the European residents have disappeared. And the change in the country between Berber and Kartoum is frightful. The river’s banks, formerly verdant with heavy crops, have become a wilderness. Villages, once crowded, have entirely disappeared. Irrigation has ceased. The nights, formerly discordant with the croaking of waterwheels, are now silent as death. Industry has vanished. Oppression has driven the inhabitants from the soil. It is all due to the Governor General of Soudan who, like a true Mohammedan, left his government to Providence while he increased the taxes. The population of the richest province of Soudan has fled oppression and abandoned the country. The greater portion have taken to the slave trade of the White Nile where, in their turn, they might trample on the rights of others, where, as they had been plundered, they might plunder.”

The wilderness of fever-stricken marshes that line the White Nile long baffled the attempts of the most determined explorers to penetrate to the southward. At length “dry land” was reached again at Gondokoro, only five degrees from the equator. It in turn became an advanced position of Egyptian authority, a centre of mission enterprise, a half-way house where the traveller rested and equipped himself for new discoveries. From the base of Gondokoro, Petherick pursued his researches into the condition of the negro races of the Upper Nile; the Italian traveller, Miani, penetrated far towards the southwest, into the countries occupied by the Nyam-Nyam tribes, that singular region of dwarfs and cannibals; and Dr. Schweinfurth, Colonel Long, and Mdlle. Tinné followed up the search with magnificent results. Mdlle. Tinné, a brave Dutch lady, deserves special notice as having been perhaps the first European woman who encountered the terrible hardships and perils of the explorer’s life in the cause of African discovery. She is far, however from being the last. The wives of two of the greatest pioneers in the work——Mrs. Livingstone and Lady Baker——accompanied with a noble-minded resolution the steps of their husbands, the one along the banks of the Zambesi, and the other on the White Nile. Mdlle. Tinné and Mrs. Livingstone paid with their lives for their devotion, and are buried by the streams from whose waters they helped to raise the veil. Lady Baker has been more fortunate. Only a girl of seventeen when she rode by her husband’s side from Gondokoro, she lived to return to Europe where her name is inseparably linked with two great events of African history——the discovery of one of the great lakes of the Nile and the suppression of the slave traffic.

As already intimated, the Egyptian conquest and annexation of the Soudan country, and the bad government of it which followed, made the region of the White Nile the great man-hunting ground of Africa. The traffic was general when the modern travellers began their struggle to reach the equatorial lakes. Arab traders were the chief actors in these enterprises and they were joined by a motley crew of other races, not excepting most of the white and Christian races. If they were not directly under the patronage of the Egyptian authorities at Kartoum, they made it worth while for those authorities to keep a patronizing silence, by throwing annually into their treasury something handsome in the shape of cash.

Kartoum marks pretty distinctly the limit of the Arab races and the influence of the Mohammedan religion. Beyond, and toward the equator and Nile sources, are the negro and pagan. Fanaticism and race hatred, therefore, helped to inflame the evil passions which the slave trade invariably arouses. The business of the miscreants engaged in this detestable work was simply kidnapping and murder. The trade of the White Nile was purely slave-hunting. The trifling traffic in ivory and gums was a mere deception and sham, intended to cover the operations of the slaver. A marauding expedition would be openly fitted out at Kartoum, composed of some of the most atrocious ruffians in Africa and south-western Asia, with the scum of a few European cities. Their favorite mode of going to work was to take advantage of one of those wars which are constantly being waged between the tribes of Central Africa. If a war were not going on in the quarter which the slave-hunters had marked out for their raid, a quarrel was purposely fomented——at no time a difficult task in Africa. At dead of night the marauders with their black allies would steal down upon the doomed village. At a signal the huts are fired over the heads of the sleeping inmates, a volley of musketry is poured in, and the gang of desperadoes spring upon their victims. A scene of wild confusion and massacre follows, until all resistance has been relentlessly put down, and then the slave-catcher counts over and secures his human spoils. This is the first act of the bloody drama. Most probably, if the kidnappers think they have not made a large enough “haul,” they pick a quarrel with their allies, who are in their turn shot down, or overpowered and, manacled to their late enemies, are soon floating down the Nile in a slave dhow, on their way to the markets of Egypt or Turkey. The waste of human life, the stoppage of industry and honest trade, the demoralization of the whole region within reach of the raiders, the detestable cruelties and crimes practised on the helpless captives on the journey down the river, on the caravan route across the desert, or in the stifling dens where they are lodged at the slave depots and markets, represent an enormous total of human misery.

Many will remember the efforts of Colonel Gordon, whom the Khedive made a Pasha, and also a Governor General of the Soudan, at the capital Kartoum, to suppress this nefarious traffic. And it will also be remembered how in the late revolt against Egyptian authority, led by El Mahdi, Colonel Gordon again headed a forlorn hope to Kartoum, with the hope that he could stay the rising fanatical tide, or at least control it, so as to prevent a fresh recognition of slave stealers. He fell a victim to his philanthropic views, and was murdered in the streets of the city he went to redeem.

We have already made the reader acquainted with the heroic and more successful efforts of Colonel Baker, Pasha, in the same direction. He was not so much of a religious enthusiast as Colonel Gordon, did not rely on fate, but thought an imposing, organized force the best way to strike terror into these piratical traders, and at the same time inspire the negro races with better views of self protection. In the long and brilliant record which Colonel Baker made in Africa, the honors he gathered as a military hero bent on suppressing the slave trade will ever be divided evenly with those acquired as a dauntless traveller and accurate scientific observer.

Let it not be thought that slave catching and selling is now extinct. True, the care exercised in the waters of the Red Sea and Indian Ocean, makes it difficult to run slave cargoes into Arabia and the further east. True, Baker’s expedition broke up a force of some two thousand organized kidnappers on the Upper White Nile, but these piratical adventurers are still abroad in more obscure paths and compelled to rely more on guile and cunning than on force for securing their prey.

But let us pursue our journey from Kartoum toward the “Springs of the Nile.” We do not take the Blue Nile. That comes down from the east, and the Abyssinian mountains. We take the White Nile, which is the true Nile, and comes up from the south or southwest. And we must suppose we are going along with Colonel Baker on his first journey, which was one in search of the Nile sources. It was a scientific tour, and not an armed one like his second expedition.

Entering the White Nile, we plunge into a new world——a region whose climate and animal and vegetable life, in brief, whose whole aspect and nature, are totally unlike those of the desert which stretches up to the walls of Kartoum. We are within the zone of regular rainfall, an intermediate region that extends to the margin of the great lakes, where we meet with the equatorial belt of perennial rains. Henceforth we have not only heat but moisture acting upon the face of nature.

One may determine which of the two climates is the more tolerable by considering whether he would prefer to be roasted or stewed. The traveller would find it hard to decide whether the desert or the swamp is the greater bar to his advance. Every mile of progress marks an increase of dampness and of warmth. First of all, we pass through the great mimosa forest, which extends, belt-like, almost across the continent, marking the confines of the Sahara and the Soudan. The reader must not imagine a dense girdle of tall trees and tangled undergrowth, but a park-like country, with wide glades between clumps and lines of thorny shrubbery. The mimosa, or Arabian acacia——the tree from which the gum-arabic of commerce is extracted——has assigned to it the out-post duty in the struggle between tropical luxuriance and desert drought. By and by it gives place to the ambatch as the characteristic tree of the Nile. The margin of the river becomes marshy and reedy. The water encroaches on the land and the land on the water. The muddy stream rolls lazily along between high walls of rank vegetation, and bears whole islands of intertwisted leaves, roots and stems on its bosom, very much as an Arctic strait bears its acres of ice floes. It breaks up into tortuous channels that lead everywhere and nowhere. A nearly vertical sun shines down on the voyager as he slowly toils up stream. Scarcely a breath of air stirs to blow away the malarious mists or fill a drooping sail. Mosquitoes are numerous, and insatiate for blood.

Day thus follows day with nothing to break the monotony except now and then the appearance of a hippopotamus, rising snortingly to the surface, a crocodile with his vicious jaws, or, where the land is solid, a buffalo pushing his head through the reeds to take a drink. The true river margin is invisible except from the boat’s masts over the head of the tall papyrus. Even could we reach it, we would wish ourselves back again, for of all the growth of this dismal swamp man is the most repulsive. The Dinka tribes of the White Nile are among the lowest in the scale of human beings. They are naked, both as to clothing and moral qualities. The Shillooks are a finer race physically, but inveterate pirates and murderers.

In the midst of this swampy region the Nile receives another important tributary from the mountains of Southern Abyssinia. It is the Sobat which, Speke says, “runs for a seven days’ journey through a forest so dense as to completely exclude the rays of the sun.”

Above its mouth we must be prepared to meet the greatest of all the obstructions of the Nile. Here are many small affluents from both east and west, and here is a vast stretch of marsh through which the waters soak as through a sponge. In the centre of this “sponge” tract is a small lake——Lake No. But to reach it or emerge from it again, by means of the labyrinthine channels, is a work of great difficulty. The “sponge” is a thick coating of roots, grasses and stems matted together so as to conceal the waters, yet open enough for them to percolate through. It may be ventured upon by human feet, and in many places supports quite a vegetation. But the traveller is in constant danger of falling through, to say nothing of the danger from various animals. It was through this “sponge” that Colonel Baker, in his second Nile expedition, managed to cut a canal, through which was dragged the first steamer that ever floated on the head waters of the great river.

Having passed this obstacle the journey is easier to Gondokoro, where the land is firm. Twenty-three years ago Gondokoro was a collection of grass huts in the midst of an untrodden wilderness, and surrounded by barbarous and hostile tribes. It has since been made an Egyptian military station and named Ismailia.

Though the spot is not inviting except as it affords you rest after your hardships, yet it is the scene of an interesting episode in the history of African exploration. Speke and Grant had started on their memorable trip from Zanzibar in 1861. Colonel Baker and his wife had started up the Nile for its sources in the same year. Now it is February, 1863. A travel stained caravan, with two white men at its head, comes down the high ground back of the station. They quicken their pace and enter the village with shouts, waving of flags and firing of musketry. It is Speke and Grant on their return trip, with the secret of the Nile in their keeping.

On their long tramp they had visited strange peoples and countries, and by courage and tact had escaped unharmed from a number of difficulties and perils. They had traced the one shore of that vast reservoir of fresh water under the Equator which Speke had sighted on a previous expedition, and had named Victoria Nyanza. They had seen this beautiful equatorial reservoir discharging its surplus waters northward over the picturesque Ripon Falls, and knew that they were in possession of the secret which all the world had sought from the beginning.

Lower down, at the Karuma Falls, they were compelled to leave the stream, which they now felt sure was the Nile. Crossing to the right bank, they struck across the country, northward, and in a direct line for Gondokoro. Here they caught sight of the furthest outpost of Egyptian exploration, and again gladly looked on the river that was to bear them down to the Mediterranean.

By a curious coincidence, the first Englishman who had penetrated so far to the southward, was at that moment in Gondokoro. Samuel Baker and his wife were interrupted in their preparations for their journey to the Nile sources by the noise of the approaching party, and they rode out to see what all the hubbub meant. Four people from a distant nook of Europe met in the heart of Africa; and as they clasped hands, the hoary secret of the Nile was unriddled! All of them had numberless difficulties before as well as behind them; but their hearts were undismayed, and swelled only with pride at what had been accomplished for science and for their native land. The travellers from Zanzibar bore the marks of their long journey——“battered and torn, but sound and seaworthy.” “Speke,” Baker tells us, “appeared the more worn of the two; he was excessively lean, but in reality in good tough condition. He had walked the whole way from Zanzibar, never having once ridden during the weary march. Grant was in honorable rags, his bare knees projecting through the remnants of trousers that were an exhibition of rough industry in tailor-work. He was looking tired and feverish, but both men had a fire in the eye that showed the spirit that had led them through.” The first greetings over, Baker’s earliest question was: Was there no leaf of the laurel reserved for him? Yes; there was. Below the Karuma Falls, Speke and Grant had been informed the stream from the Victoria Nyanza fell into and almost immediately emerged again from another lake, the Luta Nzigé. This therefore might be the ultimate reservoir of the Nile waters. No European had ever seen or heard of this basin before. Baker determined it should be his prize.

But now we meet a new class of obstacles as we undertake a land journey into intertropical Africa. There is no longer, as in the desert, danger from thirst and starvation, for game abounds, and we are in some degree out of the interminable swamps of river navigation. But a small army of porters must be got together. They must be drilled, and preparations must be made for feeding them. True, some explorers have gone well nigh alone. But it is not best. Stanley always travelled with one to two hundred natives, and quite successfully.

And these natives are by no means easy to handle. They are ready to make bargains, but are panicky and often desert, or, what is worse, take advantage of any relaxation of discipline to rise in mutiny. Their leader must be stern of will, yet kind and good-natured, wise as a serpent and watchful as a hawk. When a start is made, difficulties accumulate. You must expect incredible rainfalls, and an amazing growth of vegetation. Then in the dry season, which is hardly more than two to three months in a year, the shrubs and grasses are burned up far and wide.

Everywhere there is jungle of grass, reeds and bamboos, when the rivers are at their height; and amid the forests the great stems of the pandanus, banana and boabab are covered to their tops with a feathery growth of ferns and orchids, and festooned with wild vines and creeping plants. The native villages are almost smothered under the dark luxuriance of plant life, and lions and other beasts of prey can creep up unseen to the very doors of the huts. The whole country becomes a tangled brake, with here and there an open space, or a rough track marking where an elephant, rhinoceros or buffalo has crushed a way in the high grass.

Then ahead of us, and between Gondokoro and the lakes we seek, the country has been so raided by slave hunters, that every native can be counted on as an enemy. Or a native war may be in progress, and if so, great care must be taken to avoid siding with either party. We must retreat here and push on there, avoiding perils of this class as we value our lives. There is no road through Africa of one’s own choice, and none that may not entail an entire backward step for days, and perhaps forever.

At Gondokoro we are in the midst of the Bari tribe. Pagans before, contact with the Arab wanderers and slave stealers has made them savages. They live in low thatched huts, rather neat in appearance, and surrounded by a thick hedge to keep off intruders. The men are well grown and the women not handsome, but the thick lips and flat nose of the negro are wanting. They tattoo their stomachs artistically, and smear their bodies with a greasy pigment of ochre. Their only clothing is a bunch of feathers stuck in the slight tuft of hair which they permit to grow on their heads, and a neat lappet around the loins, of about six inches in depth, to which is appended a tail piece made of shreds of leather or cotton.

Every man carries his weapons, pipe and stool. The former are chiefly the bow and arrows. They use a poisoned arrow when fighting. The effect of the poison in the system is not to kill but to corrode the flesh and bone, till they drop away in pieces. The bows are of bamboo, not very elastic, and the archers are not dexterous.

It was while in Gondokoro, on this his first Nile journey, that Baker had opportunity to study, and occasion to feel, the enormities of the slave traffic. The Moslem traders regarded him as a spy on their nefarious operations. They manacled their slaves more closely and stowed them away securely in remote and secret stockades. Their conduct as citizens was outrageous, for they kept the town in a continual uproar by their drinking bouts, their brawls with the natives, and promiscuous firing of guns and pistols. One of their bullets killed a boy of Baker’s party. It was evident that these marauders were intent on compelling him to make a hasty departure, for they incited trouble among his men, and inflamed the natives against his presence.

As an instance of the trouble which grew out of this, his men asked the privilege of stealing some cattle from the natives for a feast. He denied their request. A mutiny was the result. Baker ordered the ringleader to be bound and punished with twenty-five lashes. The men refused to administer the punishment and stood by their ringleader. Baker undertook to enforce the order himself, when the black leader rushed at him with a stick. Baker stood his ground and knocked his assailant down with his fist. Then he booted him severely, while his companions looked on in amazement at his boldness and strength. But they rallied, and commenced to pelt him with sticks and stones. His wife saw his danger. She ordered the drums to be beaten and in the midst of the confusion rushed to the rescue. The clangor distracted the attention of the assailants, and a parley ensued. The matter was settled by a withdrawal of the sentence on the condition that the leader should apologize and swear fealty again.

Before Baker could complete his preparations for starting, the fever broke out in Gondokoro, and both he and his wife fell sick. In order to escape the effluvium of the more crowded village, he moved his tents and entire encampment to the high ground above the river. While the animals were healthy, the donkeys and camels were attacked by a greenish brown bird, of the size of a thrush, with a red beak and strong claws. It lit on the beasts to search for vermin, but its beak penetrated the flesh, and once a hole was established, the bird continually enlarged it to the great annoyance of the animal which could neither eat nor sleep. The animals had to be watched by boys continually till their wounds were healed.

An Arab guide, named Mohammed, had been engaged, and the expedition was about to move. Mrs. Baker had brought a boy along from Kartoum, by the name of Saat. He had become quite attached to her, as had another servant named Richarn. The guide, Mohammed, said he had seventy porters ready and that a start could be made on Monday. But the fellow was in a conspiracy to start on Saturday without Baker. Mrs. Baker found it out through Saat and Richarn. She ordered the tents to be struck and a start to be made on the moment. This nonplussed Mohammed. He wavered and hesitated. She brought his accusers face to face with him when, to Baker’s astonishment, the plot came out, that the entire force of porters had conspired to desert as soon as they got the arms and ammunition in their hands, and to kill Baker in case resistance was offered.

Nothing was left but to disarm and discharge the whole force. He gave them written discharges, with the word “mutineer” beneath his signature, and thus the fellows, none of whom could read, went about bearing the evidences of their own guilt. Baker now tried in vain to enlist a new party of porters. The people had been poisoned against him. He applied to Koorschid, a Circassian chief, for ten elephant hunters and two interpreters, but the wily chief avoided him. It looked as if he would have to give over his contemplated journey for the season. But by dint of hard work he managed to gather seventeen men, whom he hoped to make true to him by kind treatment. At this juncture a party of Koorschid’s people arrived from the Latooka country with a number of porters. Their chief, Adda, a man of magnificent proportions, took a fancy to Baker and invited him to visit the Latookas. He was given presents, and his picture was taken, which pleased him greatly. His followers came and were similarly treated and delighted. They agreed to accompany Baker back to their country, but a body of Turkish traders were also going thither. They not only declared that Baker should not have the escort of these people, but actually pressed them into their own service. And then, to make things worse, they threatened to incite the tribes through which they had to pass against him should he dare to follow.

Baker thought he could meet any mischief of this kind by dealing liberally in presents, and so resolved to follow the traders. He loaded his camels and donkeys heavily, and started with his seventeen untried men. Mrs. Baker was mounted on a good Abyssinian horse, carrying several leather bags at the pommel of the saddle. Colonel Baker was similarly mounted and loaded. They had neither guide nor interpreter. Not one native was procurable, owing to the baleful influence of the traders. Their journey began about an hour after sunset, and Colonel Baker, taking the distant mountains of Balignan as his landmark, led the way.

If we are now amid the hardships of an African journey, we are also amid its excitements. Can we outstrip the Turkish traders? If so it will be well, for then they cannot stir up the tribes against us. We will try. But our camels are heavily loaded, and their baggage catches in the overhanging bramble. Every now and then one of those most heavily top laden is swung from his path, and even rolls into a steep gulch, when he has to be unpacked and his load carried up on to the level before being replaced. It is tantalizing for those in a hurry. But the traders are also travelling slowly for they are buying and selling.

Presently two of their Latookas come to us, having deserted. They are thirsty, and direct us to a spot where water can be had. While we are drinking, in comes a party of natives with the decayed head of a wild boar, which they cook and eat, even though the maggots are thick in it. The health of these people does not seem to be affected by even the most putrid flesh.

These Latooka deserters now become guides. They lead the way, with Colonel and Mrs. Baker. The country is that of the Tolloga natives. While we halt under a fig tree to rest and await the rearward party with the laden animals, the Tollogas emerge from their villages and surround us. There are five or six hundred of them, all curious, and especially delighted at sight of our horses. They had never seen a horse before. We inquire for their chief, when a humped-backed little fellow asked in broken Arabic who we were.

Colonel Baker said he was a traveller.

“Do you want ivory?” asked the hunchback.

“We have no use for it.”

“Ah, you want slaves?”

“No we do not want slaves.”

At this there was a shout of laughter, as though such thing could not be. Then the hunchback continued:

“Have you got plenty of cows?”

“No, but plenty of beads and copper.”

“Where are they?”

“With my men. They will be here directly.”

“What countryman are you?”

“An Englishman.”

He had never heard of such a people.

“You are a Turk,” he continued.

“All right; anything you like.”

“And that is your son?” pointing to Mrs. Baker.

“No, that is my wife.”

“Your wife! What a lie! He is a boy.”

“Not a bit of it. This is my wife who has come along with me to see the women of your country.”

“What a lie!” he again exclaimed.

Mrs. Baker was dressed precisely like her husband, except that her sleeves were long while the Colonel’s arms were bare.

Soon Tombe, the chief of the tribe, put in an appearance. He is propitiated with plenty of beads and copper bracelets and drives his importunate people away. The hunchback is employed as interpreter, and now our party is away over a rough road, determined to beat the Turks through the Ellyrian tribe beyond. But it is too late. Their advance is ahead. Their centre passes us in disdain. Their leader, Ibrahim, comes up, scowls and passes on. Mrs. Baker calls to the Colonel to stop him and have a friendly talk. He does so, tells him they need never clash as they are after two entirely different objects. Then he shows him how he could either punish or befriend him once they were back at Kartoum. The old villain listens, and is moved. Baker then gives him a double-barreled gun and some gold. Both parties now march into Ellyria together, glad to escape the rocky defiles which had to be threaded on the last stages of the journey, where many a trader has lost his life.

We here meet with Legge, the chief, who demands blackmail. Baker gives liberally of beads and bracelets, but Legge gives nothing in return, except some honey. Our men have to draw for food on the reserve stores of rice, which they no sooner boil and mix with the honey than along comes Legge and helps himself, eating like a cormorant till he can hold no more. We can only stay here one day, for the people are very annoying and will part with nothing except their honey. So we leave these bullet-headed natives, and start again toward Latooka, over a level country and an easier road.

Old Ibrahim and Colonel and Mrs. Baker now lead the way.

The wily old Arab gets confidential, and informs the Colonel that his men intend to mutiny as soon as they get to Latooka. This news gives the Colonel time to prepare. In two days we enter the Wakkula country, rich in pasturage and abundant in water, literally filled with big game, such as elephants, rhinoceri, buffalo, giraffes, wild boars and antelope. A buffalo is found in a trap, and partly eaten by a lion. The men make a feast of the remainder. It is the first meat they have eaten since they left Gondokoro, and it is a great relish. A hunt by the Colonel brings in several fine antelope, enough to last till Latooka is reached.

And now we are among the Latooka villages. There are Turkish traders there already, for they are gathered in Latome, a border village. They fire off guns, and forbid Ibrahim and his party to pass, claiming an exclusive right to trade there. There is a row between the Moslem traders, in which poor Ibrahim is almost strangled to death. The Colonel observes a strict neutrality, as the time had not come for him to take sides.

After wrangling for hours all retired to sleep. The next morning he calls his men to resume the march. Four of them rise in mutiny, seize their guns and assume a threatening attitude. Belaal, the leader, approaches and says:——

“Not a man shall go with you. Go where you will with Ibrahim, but we won’t move a step. You may employ niggers to load the camels, but not us.”

“Lay down your gun, and load the camels!” thunders the Colonel.

“I won’t,” was the defiant reply.

“Then stop right here!” As quick as a flash the Colonel lands a blow on his jaw, and the ringleader rolls in a heap among the luggage, the gun flying in the opposite direction. There is a momentary panic, during which the Colonel seizes a rifle and rushes among the mutineers, insisting on their going to work and almost dragging them to their places. They obey mechanically. The camels are soon loaded and we are off again. But Ibrahim and his party have been gone for some time.

Belaal and four others soon after desert. The Colonel declares the vultures will soon pick their bones. Four days after, word comes that the deserters have been killed by a party of savages. The rest of the party think it came about in accordance with the Colonel’s prophecy, and credit him with magical powers.

Thirteen miles from Latome is Tarrangolle, the largest Latooka village, where Moy, the chief, resides. Here Ibrahim stopped to collect his ivory and slaves. Crowds came out of the village to meet us, but their chief attraction was Mrs. Baker and the camels. These Latookas are, doubtless, the finest made savages in all Africa. They are tall, muscular and beautifully proportioned. They have high foreheads, large eyes, high cheek bones, small mouths, and full, but not thick lips. Their countenances are pleasing, their manners civil. They are frank but warlike, merry yet always ready for a fight. Tarrangolle has 3000 houses, surrounded by palisades; and each house is fortified by a stockade. The houses are very tall and bell shaped. They are entered by a low door not over two feet high. The interior is clean but unlighted by windows. Their cattle are kept in kraals and are very carefully tended. Their dead, who are killed in war, are allowed to lie on the field as food for vultures. Those who die at home are lightly buried for a time. Then they are exhumed, the flesh stripped off, and the bones put into an earthen jar, which is deposited in the common pile or mound outside of the village. Every village has its burial pile, which is a huge collection of jars. They wear no clothes, but bestow great attention on their hair. Their weapons are the lance, an iron-head mace, a long bladed knife, and an ugly iron bracelet armed with knife blades four inches long. The women are not as finely shaped as the men. They are large, heavy limbed creatures, used to drudgery.

Chief Moy visits us and looks for the first time on a white person. The Colonel makes presents of beads, bracelets, and a necklace of pearls for Bokke, the chief’s favorite wife. “What a row there will be in the family when my other wives see Bokke’s present,” says the wily old chief. The Colonel takes the hint and gives him three pounds of beads to be divided between his wives. Next day, Bokke comes to the Colonel’s hut, all covered with beads, tatooed on her cheeks, and with a piece of ivory hanging in her lower lip. She is not bad looking, and her daughter is as comely a savage as you ever saw.

Horrid word comes that a party of Turkish traders have been massacred in a Latooka village which they had tried to destroy and to make slaves of the inhabitants. All is now excitement. Ibrahim’s party and our own are in imminent danger. But Moy intercedes for his white guests and appeases the angry natives. Though rich in cattle, our party cannot get a pound of beef from these Latookas. But ducks and geese are plenty in a stream close by, and we are allowed to kill all we want.

Let us look in upon a Latooka funeral dance in honor of a dead warrior. What grotesque dresses the dancers appear in! Ostrich feathers adorn their helmets of hair, leopard and monkey skins hang from their shoulders, bells dangle at a waist belt, an antelope horn is hung round the neck, which is blown in the midst of the excitement. The dancers rush round and round in an “infernal galop,” brandishing lances and maces, and keeping pretty fair time. The women keep outside the lines, dance awkwardly and scream like catamounts. Beyond them are the children, greasy with red ochre and ornamented with beads, keeping time with their feet to the inward movement. One woman runs into the midst of the men and sprinkles ashes promiscuously on all from a gourd. She is fat and ugly, but evidently an important part of the occasion.

These people are bright, and argue in favor of their materialistic belief with great shrewdness. The Colonel tried to illustrate his belief by placing a grain of corn in the ground and observing:——“That represents you when you die.” Covering it with earth, he continued, “The grain will decay, but from it will arise a plant that will reproduce it again in its original form.”

“Precisely,” said old Comorro, brother of Moy, “that I understand. But the original grain does not rise again; it rots like the dead man and is ended; so I die, and am ended; but my children grow up like the fruit of the grain. Some have no children; some grains perish; then all is ended.”

Here we remain for two weeks, waiting till Ibrahim comes back from Gondokoro, whither he had gone with ivory, and whence he has promised to bring a supply of ammunition. Meanwhile we must enjoy a hunt, for evidences of game are plenty. We are soon out among the long grasses, when suddenly a huge rhinoceros bolts from the copse close at hand. The Colonel calls on his companions to bring a gun, but instead of obeying they set up a cry, which is to call attention to a herd of bull elephants in the forest at the end of the grassy plain. Two of the herd spy him and come bearing down upon him. He dismounts to get a shot, but the beasts see the dusky Latookas and rush off again to join their companions. The Colonel quickly mounts and dashes after them, but his horse falls into a buffalo hole and throws him. Mounting again, he pursues, but his game has gotten well into the forest. On he goes after the herd, to find himself in close quarters with a huge beast that comes tearing along, knocking down everything in his track. Firing unsteadily from the saddle, he lodges a bullet in the animal’s shoulder. It turns and makes directly for its assailant, bellowing like a demon. The Colonel puts spurs to his horse, and makes his escape. Arming himself with a heavier gun, he returns to the attack and soon sees the herd again, moving toward him. One princely fellow has a splendid pair of tusks. This he singles out for his game. The elephants at first flee on his approach, but on finding themselves pursued they turn and give battle. There is no safety there, and again he retreats. A third trial brings him upon the beast he has wounded. It is maddened with pain and dashes at him. Trusting to his horse he rushes out of the tangle. The beast does not give up pursuit but follows on. His horse is jaded, and the riding is dangerous owing to the buffalo holes. The beast gains, and the Colonel’s cowardly companions give no help. A moment more and the beast will be on him. He suddenly wheels his horse, and hears the swish of the elephant’s trunk past his ears, as the monster beast plunges on in its direct course. It gives over the chase, and keeps on up the hill. It is found dead next morning from the effects of the bullet wound. Elephant meat is highly prized by the natives, and the fat also. With the latter they mix the pigments for their bodies. Their favorite method of capturing the animal is by pits, dug very deep in the animal’s path and covered over with light brambles and grasses. They seldom attack with spears, except when they fire the grasses. Then they take advantage of the panic which ensues and attack at close quarters.

Ibrahim returns with plenty of ammunition and reports that he is going to the Obbo country. We are delighted, for it is directly on our way to the “Lakes of the Nile.” So we all go together. The country between Latooka and Obbo, a distance of forty miles, is very beautiful. It abounds in mountains on whose impregnable peaks native villages are seen, and in green valleys filled with game. Wild fruit and nuts are also found in plenty. The journey is easy and quick. The chief of Obbo is Katchiba, an old clownish man who did not beg, for a wonder. He gives a dance in our honor, which is really an artistic affair. The dusky dancers kept excellent time to their drums and sang a wild chorus with considerable effect. The Obbo men wear dresses of skin slung around their shoulders, but the women are nearly naked——the unmarried girls entirely so.

The secret of Chief Katchiba’s power over his tribe is sorcery.

When his people displease him he threatens to curse their goats or wither their flocks. Should rain fail to fall, he tells them he is sorry they have behaved so badly toward him as to merit such a punishment. Should it rain too much, he threatens to pour lightning, storm and rain on them eternally, if they don’t bring him their contribution of goats, corn and beer. They always receive his blessing before starting on a journey, believing it will avert evil. In sickness he is called to charm away the disease. And the old fellow receives so many presents of daughters that he is able to keep a harem in every village of his tribe. He counts 116 living children. Each village is ruled by a son, so that the whole government is a family affair.

The fine old fellow treats us like princes, and gives us much information about the country to the south. The Colonel leaves his wife in the old chief’s care, and we take a little trip, with eight men, to test the accuracy of the old chief’s story about the high water in the river Ashua. We pass through a magnificent country and find the river a roaring torrent. The chief’s story was true. We return to find Mrs. Baker in excellent health and spirits having been kindly cared for during our absence. But the old chief has fared rather badly. He wanted some chickens to present to Mrs. Baker. His people proved stingy, and Katchiba, who could not walk much on account of his infirmities, the chief of which was a head always befuddled with beer, came to ask for the loan of a horse, that he might appear on his back among his people and thus strike terror into them. His former method of travel had been to mount on the back of his subjects, and thus make his state journeys, followed by one of the strongest of his wives, bearing the inevitable beer pitcher.

Though warned by Mrs. Baker of the danger attending such an experiment as he proposed, he persisted, and one of the blooded Abyssinian animals was brought out equipped for a ride. The old chief mounted and told his horse to go. The animal did not understand and stood still. “Hit him with your stick,” said one of the attendants. Thwack! came the chief’s staff across the animal’s shoulders. Quick as lightning a pair of heels flew into the air, and the ancient specimen of African royalty shot over the horse’s head and lay sprawling on the ground. He picked himself up, considerably bruised and sprained, took a wondering look at the horse, and decided that riding a beast of that kind, where one had so far to fall, was not in his line.

Since we cannot go on with our journey till the rivers to the south of us fall, it is best to go back to Latooka, where supplies are more abundant. Katchiba sends us off amid a noisy drum ceremony and with his blessing, his brother going along as a guide. There is a new member of the party, one Ibrahimawa, who had been to all the ends of the earth, as soldier and adventurer. He was of Bornu birth, but had been captured when a boy, and taken into the service of the Sultan of Turkey. Even now he was connected with the Turkish garrison, or squad of observation, at Latooka. He got the whole party into a pretty mess the second day after starting back for Latooka, by bringing in a basketful of fine yams, which happened to be of a poisonous variety. On eating them, all got sick, and had to submit to the penalty of a quick emetic, which brought them round all right.

We now journey easily through the great Latooka, where game is so abundant. In sight is a herd of antelope. The Colonel dismounts to stalk them, but a swarm of baboons spy him and at once set up such a chattering and screeching that the antelope take the alarm and make off. One of the baboons was shot. It was as large as a mastiff and had a long brown mane like a lion. This was taken by the natives for a body ornament. That same evening the Colonel goes out in quest of other game. A herd of giraffes appear, with their long necks stretched up toward the leaves of the mimosa trees, on which they are feeding. He tries to stalk them, but the wary beasts run away in alarm. He follows them for a long way in vain chase. They were twice as fleet as his horse.

We are back again at Latooka. But how changed the scene. The small pox is raging among both natives and Turks. We cannot encamp in the town. Mrs. Baker falls sick with fever. Two horses, three camels and five donkeys die for us. King Moy had induced the Turks to join him in an attack on the Kayala tribe, and the combined forces had been beaten. Thus more enemies had been made. It was no place to stay. So we must back to Obbo, and the old chief Katchiba.

But here things are even worse. The small pox is there ahead of us, carried by careless natives or dirty, unprincipled Moslem traders, and the whole town is in misery. A party of roving traders had raided it and carried off nearly the whole stock of cows and oxen. Our horses all die, and most of our other animals, under the attacks of the dreadful tsetse fly. Both the Colonel and Mrs. Baker fall sick with fever, and the old chief comes in to cure them by enchantment. It rains nearly all the time, and rats and even snakes seek the huts out of the wet. Our stay of two months here is dreary enough, and the wonder is that any of us ever get away.

As soon as the Colonel and Lady Baker can go out they pay a visit to Katchiba, which he appreciates, and invites them into his private quarters. It is only a brewery, where his wives are busy preparing his favorite beer. The old chief invites them to a seat, takes up something which passes for a harp, and asks if he may sing. Expecting something ludicrous, they consent, but are surprised to hear a really well sung and neatly accompanied air. The old fellow is evidently as expert in music as in beer drinking.

Waiting is awful in any African village during the rainy or any other season, and especially if the low fevers of the country are in your system. We have really lost from May to October, on account of the fullness of the streams south of us. Our stock of quinine is nearly gone; our cattle are all dead. Shall we go on? If so, it must be afoot. And afoot it shall be, for we have met an Unyoro slave woman who tells as well as she can about a lake called Luta N’Zige, very nearly where we expect to find the Albert Nyanza.

Now the rains have ceased. Wonderful country! Crops spring up as if by magic, especially the tullaboon, or African corn. But the elephants like it and play havoc by night in the green fields. The Colonel, all ague shaken as he is, determines to have a night’s sport and to bring in some meat which he knows the natives will relish. Starting with a servant and a goodly supply of heavy rifles——among them is “The Baby,” which carries a half pound explosive shell——he digs a watch hole near a corn field. Into this they creep, and are soon notified of the presence of a herd of elephants by the crunching of the crisp grain. It is dark, but by and by one approaches within twelve paces. Taking the range of the shoulder as well as he can, the contents of “Baby” are sent on their murderous errand. It was then safe to beat a retreat. Next morning the elephant is found near the pit. He is still standing, but soon drops dead. The shot was fatal, but not for several hours. And now such a time as there is among the natives. Three hundred of them gather, and soon dispose of the carcass with their knives and lances. The huge beast was ten feet six inches in height.

By January, the waters in the rivers and gulches have subsided enough to admit of travel. Katchiba gives us three oxen——two for pack animals, and one for Mrs. Baker to ride upon. With these, and a few attendants, we start for the south. But Ibrahim precedes us with an armed body of Turks. He is penetrating the country further in search of ivory and booty. It is well for us to follow in his trail, unless forsooth he should get into a fight.

The Colonel walks eighteen miles to Farajoke where he purchases a riding ox. On January 13, Shooa is reached. It is a veritable land of plenty. There are fowls, goats, butter, milk, and food of all kinds. The natives are delighted to see us, and are greedy for our beads and trumpery. They bring presents of flour and milk to Mrs. Baker, who showers upon them her trinkets in return. The people are not unlike the Obbo’s, but their agriculture is very superior. Our five days here are days of real rest and refreshment.

We make an eight mile march to Fatiko, where the natives are still more friendly. But they insist on such vigorous shaking of hands and such tiresome ceremonies of introduction, that we must hasten away. And now our march is still through a beautiful country for several days. We gradually approach the Karuma Falls, close to the village of Atada, on the opposite side of the river. It is the Unyoro country whose king is Kamrasi.

The natives swarm on their bank of the river, and soon a fleet of canoes comes across. Their occupants are informed that Col. Baker wishes to see the king, in order to thank him for the kindness he had extended to the two Englishmen, Speke and Grant on their visit. The boatmen are suspicious, for only a short time before a party of Arab traders had allied themselves with Kamrasi’s enemies and slain 300 of his people. It takes two whole days to overcome the king’s suspicions, and many gifts of beads and trinkets. Finally we are ferried across, but oh! the tedious wait to get a royal interview! And then the surprise, when it did come.

There sits the king on a copper stool placed on a carpet of leopard skins, surrounded by his ten principal chiefs. He is six feet tall, of dark brown skin, pleasing countenance, clothed in a long rich robe of bark-cloth, with well dressed hands and feet, and perfectly clean. Baker explains his object in calling and gives rich presents, among which is a double barrelled gun. The king takes to the gun and orders it to be fired off. The attendants run away in fright, at which the king laughs heartily, as though he had discovered a new test for their courage or played a capital joke. He then makes return presents, among which are seventeen cows.

Thus friendship is established. The king asks for our help against the Riongas, his bitterest enemies. We decline, but in turn ask for porters and guides. The king promises heartily, but as often breaks his promises, for his object is to keep us with him as long as we have presents to give.

These chiefs, or kings, of the native tribes are the greatest nuisances in Africa——not even excepting the mosquitoes. They make the traveller pay court at every stage of his journey, and they know the value of delay in granting a hearing. The wrongs of the humble negro are many. His faults are as many, and among them are his careless good humor and light heartedness——things that in northern climes or under other circumstances might be classed as redeeming traits. But the faults of the average African king——there are exceptions to the rule——are such to try our patience in the extreme. He is as ignorant as his subjects, yet is complete master of their lives. His cruelty, rapacity and sensuality are nurtured in him from birth, and there is no antic he will not play in the name of his authority. In his own eyes he is a demi-god, yet he is seen by visitors only as a dirty, freakish, cruel, tantalizing savage, insisting upon a court which has no seriousness about it.

Accomplished and friendly as King Kamrasi seems to be, he is full of duplicity, cruelty, and rapacity. Speke and Grant complained of his inordinate greed, and we have just seen for what motive he delayed us for three weeks. And scarcely have we gone ten miles when he overtakes us, to ask for other presents and the Colonel’s watch, for which he had taken a great fancy. On being refused this, he coolly informs the Colonel that he would send his party to the lake according to promise, but that he must leave Mrs. Baker behind with him. The Colonel draws his revolver and, placing it at the breast of the king, explains the insult conveyed in such a proposition in civilized countries, and tells him he would be warranted in riddling him on the spot, if he dared to repeat the request, or rather command. Mrs. Baker makes known her horror of the proposition, and the crafty king, finding his cupidity has carried him too far, says he has no intention of offending. “I will give you a wife if you want one,” he continued, “and I thought you might give me yours. I have given visitors many pretty wives. Don’t be offended. I will never mention the matter again.” To make further amends he sends along with our party several women as luggage carriers, as far as to the next village.

To show how prankish and pitiable royalty is among even a tribe like the Unyoro’s, who dress with some care, and disdain the less intelligent tribes about them, it turned out that this Kamrasi was not the real king at all, but only a substitute, and that the regularly annointed Kamrasi was in a fit of the sulks off in his private quarters, all the time of our visit.

The march is now a long one of eighteen days through the dense forests and swamps of the Kafoor River. Mrs. Baker is sick with fever incident to a sun-stroke, and has to be borne upon a litter most of the way. In crossing the Kafoor upon the “sponge,” it yields to the weight of the footmen, and she is saved from sinking beneath the treacherous surface by the Colonel, who orders the men to quickly lay their burden down and scatter. The “sponge” proves strong enough to bear the weight of the litter alone, and it is safely hauled on to a firmer part by her husband and an attendant.

We are now near our goal and all the party are enthusiastic. Ascending a gentle slope, on a beautiful clear morning, the glory of our prize suddenly bursts upon us. There, like a sea of quicksilver, lays far beneath us the grand expanse of waters——the Luta Nzigé then, but soon to be christened the Albert Nyanza. Its white waves break on a pebbly beach fifteen hundred feet below us. On the west, fifty or sixty miles distant, blue mountains rise to a height of 7000 feet. Northward the gleaming expanse of waters seem limitless. Here is the reward of all our labor. It is a basin worthy of its great function as a gathering place of the headwaters of the Nile, which issue in a full grown stream from its northern end.

Using Colonel Baker’s own language,——“Long before I reached the spot I had arranged to give three English cheers in honor of the discovery, but now that I looked down upon the great inland sea lying nestled in the very heart of Africa, and thought how vainly mankind had sought these sources throughout so many ages, and reflected that I had been the humble instrument permitted to unravel this portion of the great mystery when so many greater than I had failed, I felt too serious to vent my feelings in vain cheers for victory, and I sincerely thanked God for having guided and supported us through all dangers to the good end. As I looked down from the steep granite cliffs upon those welcome waters, on that vast reservoir which nourished Egypt and brought fertility where all was wilderness, on that great source so long hidden from mankind; that source of bounty and of blessings to millions of human beings; and as one of the greatest objects in nature, I determined to honor it with a great name. As an imperishable memorial of one loved and mourned by our gracious Queen and deplored by every Englishman, I called the great lake ‘the Albert Nyanza.’ The Victoria and the Albert Lakes are the two sources of the Nile. My wife, who had followed me so devotedly, stood by my side, pale and exhausted——a wreck upon the shores of the great Albert Lake that we had so long striven to reach. No European foot had ever trod upon its sand, nor had the eyes of a white man ever scanned its vast expanse of water. We were the first; and this was the key to the great secret that even Julius Cæsar yearned to unravel, but in vain.”

And now the lake is christened. We rush down to the shores and bathe our feet in its clear fresh waters. Then we prepare a frail canoe, large enough to carry our party of thirteen and manned with twenty oarsmen. In this we skirt the lake northward from where we first touch it at Vacovia. The journey is full of novelty. Every now and then we get a shot at a crocodile, or a hippopotamus, and herds of elephants are seen along the shores. Thunder storms are frequent, making the navigation dangerous. The heat at midday drives us into the shade. Our work hours are in the mornings and evenings. Here we pass under beetling precipices that line this eastern shore, down which jets of water——each a Nile source——are seen plunging from the height of a thousand feet. There we float through flat wastes of reeds, and water plants and floating rafts of vegetable matter in every stage of growth and decay.

On the thirteenth day we reach the point where the waters from Lake Victoria Nyanza enter the Albert Nyanza. They pour in through the Victoria River, or as some call it, the Somerset River. Now arises a momentous question. Shall we go further. If we are not back in Gondokoro in a few weeks we may leave our bones in Central Africa. We are a fatigued, even a sick party, and the season is approaching when a white man had better be away from under the Equator. The Colonel proposes to forego further navigation and return. Lady Baker, with a fervor the Colonel seems to have lost, proposes to go to the other end of the lake in order to make sure that it is an ultimate reservoir of the Nile.

Away off northward from where we are, some thirty miles, can be seen with the glasses the outlet of the lake——the Nile. It is settled that the inflow from Victoria Nyanza and the outlet northward are thus close together. But is that outlet the Nile after all? Lady Baker wants to settle this question too, and she proposes, after circumnavigating the lake and proving that it is an ultimate source, to descend the Nile through the northern outlet. But the Colonel urges want of time. The attendants tell horrible stories of dangerous falls and hostile natives. So we decide against Mrs. Baker, and, taking the Colonel’s advice, begin to ascend the Victoria Nile toward lake Victoria Nyanza, that being in the direction of our homeward march. We go but a few miles till a new marvel greets us——the Murchison Falls. On either side of the river are beautiful wooded cliffs 300 feet high. Bold rocks jut out from an intensely green foliage. Rushing through a gap in the rock directly ahead of us, the river, contracted from a broad stream above, grows narrower and narrower, till where the gorge is scarcely fifty yards wide, it makes one stupendous leap over a precipice 120 feet high, into the dark abyss below. The river then widens and grows sluggish again. Anywhere can be seen numberless crocodiles. While the Colonel is sketching the Falls, one of these animals comes close to the boat. He cannot resist a shot at it. The canoemen are disturbed and allow the boat to get an ugly swing on them. It strikes into a bunch of reeds, when out rushes a huge hippopotamus in fright and bumps against the canoe, almost oversetting it.

There are cataracts innumerable on the Nile, but this is its greatest water fall, and a majestic picture it is. Our return journey to Gondokoro repeats many of our former experiences. We revisit the same tribes and meet with the same adventures. Kartoum is reached in May, 1865. Then we go by boat to Berber, and thence by caravan across the desert to Sonakim on the Red Sea, where a steamer is taken for England, and where the Colonel receives the medal bestowed on him by the Royal Geographical Society.

In concluding this long journey we must ever regret that Colonel Baker did not do more to make sure of the honors of his discovery. Since then Gordon Pasha and M. Gessi have navigated Albert Nyanza. They curtailed the proportions it showed on first maps, and proved that, as Lady Baker supposed, it had a southern inlet, which was traced for a hundred miles till it ended in a mighty ambatch swamp, or collection of stagnant waters, which may be counted as the Lake Nzige of the natives, and of which Colonel Baker so often heard.

These travellers also settled forever one of the delusions under which Livingstone ever labored, and that was, that the sources of the Nile must be sought as far south as the great Lake Tanganyika, and even further.

Since then, other travellers have traced the whole course of the Victoria Nile to Lake Victoria Nyanza, discovering on their way a new lake, Ibrahim. And this brings us to Victoria Nyanza again, which must be studied more fully, for after all we may not have seen in Albert Nyanza, so much of an ultimate Nile reservoir as we thought. It is hard too, of course, to rob our travels of their glory, but we cannot bear laurels at the expense of after discovered truth.

It was in 1858 that Speke and Grant, pushing their perilous way westward from Zanzibar on the east coast of Africa, discovered and partly navigated Lake Tanganyika, probably the greatest fresh water reservoir in Central Africa. On their return journey, and while resting at Unyanyembe, Speke heard from an Arab source of a still larger lake to the north. Grant was suspicious of the information, and remained where he was, while Speke made a trial. After a three weeks march over an undulating country, intersected by streams flowing northward, he came in view (July 30, 1858) of the head of a deep gulf expanding to the north. Pursuing his journey along its eastern cliffs, he saw that it opened into an ocean-like expanse of water, girted by forests on the right and left, but stretching eastward and northward into space. He felt that he stood on a Nile source, but could not inquire further then.

When he returned to England and made his discovery known, powerful arguments sprang up about these Nile sources. Speke and one school contended the Nile reservoirs were under the equator and that Victoria Nyanza was one of them, if not the only one. Burton and others contended that Tanganyika, and perhaps a series of lakes further south, must be the true sources. So in 1860 Speke and Grant were back in Africa, determined to solve the mystery. They were kept back by delays till 1862, when, as we have seen, they caught sight of the lake they sought. Keeping on high ground, they followed it northward to Uganda where they fell in with Mtesa, the king. Mtesa has been painted in all sorts of colors by different explorers. Speke and Grant formed the worst possible opinion of him, but they passed through his dominions safely, till they came to the northern outlet of the lake——the Victoria Nile. Taking for granted that this was the real Nile, they cut across the country to Gondokoro, where they met Baker on his southern march, as we have already seen.

This unsatisfactory journey did not set controversy at rest. Speke’s opponents ridiculed the idea of a body of water, 250 miles long and 7000 feet above the sea level, existing right under the Equator. Moreover they denied that its northern outlet was the Nile, or if so, that there must be a southern inlet. All the old maps located the sources of the stream further south. Colonel Baker heard a native story, in 1869, to the effect that boats had gone from Albert Nyanza to Ujiji on lake Tanganyika. Livingstone held firmly to the opinion that all these equatorial lakes were one with Tanganyika——till he disproved it himself. He never was convinced that Victoria Nyanza existed at all as Speke had mapped it, nor that it had any connection with the Nile River.

Thus what Baker and Speke and Grant had been glorying in as great discoveries, but which they failed to establish by full research, was still a puzzle. They are not to be robbed of any honors, but it is not claiming too much to say that the real discoverer of the true Nile reservoir is due to the American Stanley. At least he resolved to solve the problem finally and set discussion at rest. He would establish the claims of Victoria Nyanza to vastness and to its functions as a Nile source, or show it up as a humbug.

Henry M. Stanley is no ordinary figure among African explorers. In tenacity of purpose, courage and endurance, he is second only to Livingstone. In originality, insight and crowning effort, he is ahead of all. He introduced a new method of African travel and brought a new power at his back. Already he had, under the auspices of the New York Herald, made a successful Central African journey and “discovered Livingstone.” On his present expedition he was accredited to both American and English papers, and bore the flags of the two countries. He travelled in a half scientific and half military fashion.

He started from Zanzibar November 17, 1874. Let the reader keep in mind that this was his second exploring trip into Africa——the first having been made a few years before under the auspices of the New York Herald for the rescue of Livingstone, if alive. Here, in his own words, is the gallant young leader’s order of march:——

“Four chiefs, a few hundred yards in front; next, twelve guides, clad in red robes of Jobo, bearing coils of wire; then a long file, two hundred and seventy strong, bearing cloth, wire, beads, and sections of the Lady Alice; after them, thirty-six women and ten boys, children of the chiefs, and boat-bearers, followed by riding-asses, Europeans, and gun-bearers; the long line closed by sixteen chiefs, who act as rearguard: in all, three hundred and fifty-six souls connected with the Anglo-American expedition. The lengthy line occupies nearly half a mile of the path.”

Mr. Stanley did not mean to be stopped on the route he had chosen by the objections of any native chief to the passage of the little army through his territory. If the opposition were carried to the extent of a challenge of battle, the American explorer was prepared to accept it and fight his way through. In this way he counted on avoiding the long delays, the roundabout routes, and the fragmentary results which had marked the efforts of previous travellers. It is an admirable method, if your main object is to get through the work rapidly, if you are strong enough to despise all assaults, and if you have no prospect of travelling the same road again. Its wisdom and justifiableness need not be discussed; but it may simply be remarked that this conjunction of campaigning and exploration gives an extra spice of danger and an exciting variety to the narrative, which carries us back to the time when the Conquistadors of Spain and Portugal carved their rich conquests into the heart of Mexico and South America.

He carried with him the sections of a boat, forty feet long, with which to explore the Victoria Nyanza, or any other lake or stream he might discover. It was named the “Lady Alice.” He had only three English assistants——two Thames watermen by the name of Francis and Edward Pocock, and a clerk named Frederick Barker——none of whom emerged alive from the African wilds into which they plunged so light heartedly.

Unyanyembe is the half-way station between Zanzibar and the lakes of interior Africa. It is simply a headquarters for slave stealers and a regular trading den for land pirates. Stanley turned to the northwest before reaching this place, and in about the fifth degree south latitude came upon the water shed which separates the waters trending northward from those running southward. Here in a plain 5000 feet above the sea, and 2500 miles in a straight line from the Mediterranean, seemed clearly to be the most southerly limit of the Nile basin.

And here Stanley’s real difficulties began. The party suffered from want of food and lost their way. Sickness fell upon the camp, and Edward Pocock died. The natives themselves were hostile, and Mirambo, chief of the Ruga-Rugas, a noted freebooter, was in the neighborhood with his band of cut-throats. By and by the storm clouds burst in war, not with the bandits however, but with the Ituru tribe. The battle was fought for three days against great odds. It resulted in the complete discomfiture of the foe, but with a loss to Stanley of twenty-four killed and wounded. The weakened expedition moved on bearing twenty-five men on the sick list.

They were now in the valley of the Shimeeyu, an affluent of Victoria Nyanza from the south. It was followed through dense forests over which loomed enormous bare rocks like castles, and hillocks of splintered granite and gneiss, and then through fine rolling plains, rich in pasture lands, hedge inclosed villages and herds of wild and tame animals. Compared with what he had passed through it was a grand and glorious country.

Provisions could be had readily and cheaply——corn, potatoes, fruit, goats and chickens. The half starved men indulged in feasting and marched with recovered strength and confidence. Murmuring and doubt died away. The native attendants who had shown unmistakable proofs of faithfulness in the midst of trial were specially rewarded.

The lake was near at hand. As they dipped through the troughs of land, mounted ridge after ridge, crossed water courses and ravines, passed cultivated fields and through villages smelling of cattle, a loud hurrahing in front told that the great Lake Victoria Nyanza had been sighted. It was February 27, 1875. The spot was Kagehyi, not far from where Speke had struck it. Six hundred feet beneath them, and three miles away, lay a long broad arm of water shining like silver in the bright sunshine, bordered by lines of green waving rushes, groves of trees and native huts.

No time was lost in getting the “Lady Alice” ready, and on March 8 she was launched and her prow turned northward. Her occupants were Stanley, a steersman, and ten oarsmen or sailors. Frank Pocock and Barker were left at Kagehyi in charge of the remainder of the party.

Now began a journey full of thrilling events. Almost every day brought its danger from storm, shoal, animal or hostile natives. For weeks the shores of the Nyanza stretched on, promontory behind promontory, and still the tired mariners toiled along the margin of the unknown lands on their lee, and out and in among the numerous islands. From the starting point round the eastern shore, the coast shows a succession of bold headland and deep bay, at the head of which is generally a river draining the highlands behind. Sometimes a dark mountain mass, covered with wood, overhangs the waters, rising abruptly to a height of three thousand feet or more; and then again there will intervene between the hills and the lake an open plain, grazed over by herds of zebras, antelopes, and giraffes. There is great diversity also in the islands. Many of them are bare masses of rock, supporting no green blade; others are swathed to the summit in masses of rank intertwisted vegetation that excludes the perpendicular rays of the sun. Some of the smallest are highly cultivated, and occupied by a dense population; one or two of the largest, such as Ugingo, betray no sign of human beings inhabiting their dismal shades.

Generally the region is rocky, broken, hilly, and intensely tropical in character. Behind the coast ranges absolutely nothing is known beyond a few vague reports picked up from native sources. The rivers are not large, and it is not probable that they have their sources so far off as the great snowy range that runs down midway between the lake and the east coast of Africa. Some geographers have chosen to call this chain by the old name of “Mountains of the Moon,” throwing the old land mark from the southern borders of Sahara to a point quite south of the equator and at right angles with their former direction. Between the lake and these snow-capped mountains roam the Mdai, a fierce pastoral tribe that subsists by plundering its weaker neighbors.

Stanley heard of hills that smoked in these ranges, and probably they contain active volcanoes. He also heard of the mythical Lake Baringo further north. This lake has appeared almost everywhere on African maps. If it is ever found, it may prove to be the reservoir of the Ashua, an important Nile tributary, after the stream leaves both Victoria and Albert Nyanza.

Before reaching the northernmost point of the lake the “Lady Alice” had passed through several disastrous storms and escaped many perilous shoals. She had also met the fierce opposition of the Victoria hippopotamus. This behemoth of an animal abounds here, as it does in all the waters of tropical Africa; but while in most other places it refrains from attacking man, unless provoked, it was found on the Victoria Lake to be of a peculiarly bellicose disposition. A few hours after starting on his voyage, Stanley was driven off the land and put to ignominious flight by a herd of savage hippopotami sallying out towards him open-mouthed. On another occasion, the rowers had to pull for bare life to escape the furious charge of a monster whose temper had been ruffled by the boat coming in contact with his back as he was rising to the surface to breathe. Probably the hippopotamus of the Victoria would be no more courageous than his neighbors if he were met with on land. There he always cuts a ridiculous figure, as he waddles along with his short legs and bulky body in search of the grass on which he feeds. He seems to know that he is at a disadvantage on terra firma, which, he seldom visits except by night. When interrupted, he makes the best of his way back to the water, where his great strength always makes him a formidable antagonist. On the Victoria Nyanza the inhabitants do not seem to have discovered the methods of killing him practised by the natives of the Zambesi, by capturing him in pit falls, or setting traps that bring a heavy log, armed with a long iron spike, down on his stupid skull.

But these were not the only ugly customers the crew of the “Lady Alice” had to contend with on the Victoria Nyanza. Frequently when the boat neared the shore, lithe figures could be seen flitting between the trees and savage eyes peering at her through the dense foliage. If an attempt were made to land a wild looking crowd would swarm upon the shore, poising their spears threateningly or placing their arrows in their bows. Though these forms are not so terrible as the Red Indian in war paint or the wild Papuan with his frizzly mop of hair, their natural hideousness is pretty well increased by tattooing and greasy paint. They are treacherous, cruel, vindictive, and one cast away on their shores would stand a poor chance of telling his own story.

At a point near the northeastern extremity of the lake Mr. Stanley was induced to come close to shore by the friendly gestures of half-a-dozen natives. As the boat was pulled nearer, the group on the shore rapidly increased, and it was thought prudent to halt. Instantly there started out of the jungle a forest of spears, and a crowd of yelling savages rushed down in hot haste to the margin, lest their hospitable intentions towards the strangers should be balked. The boat, however, to the astonishment of these primitive black men, hoisted a great sail to the favoring land breeze, which carried it out to an island where the crew could camp and sleep in safety for the night. A little further on, while off the island of Ugamba, a large native canoe, manned by forty rowers and adorned with a waving mane of long grasses, was pulled confidently towards the mysterious craft. After reconnoitering it for a little, they edged up alongside, half of the occupants of the canoe standing up and brandishing their tufted spears. These visitors had been drinking freely of pombe to keep up their courage. They were noisy, impudent, and obstreperous; and finding that the white man and his companions remained quiet and patient, they began to reel tipsily about the boat, shout out their drunken choruses, and freely handle the property and persons of the strangers. Gradually they grew still more unpleasantly aggressive. One drunken rascal whirled his sling over Stanley’s head and, cheered by his companions, seemed about to aim the stone at the white man. Suddenly Stanley, who had his revolver ready in his hand, fired a shot into the water. In an instant the boat was clear of the intruders, every one of whom had plunged into the water at sound of the pistol, and was swimming lustily for the shore. With some little trouble their fears were allayed and the humbled roisterers, sobered by their dip, came meekly back for their abandoned canoe. Presents were exchanged and all parted good friends.

He did not fare so well with the Wavuma tribe. They attracted Stanley’s attention by sending out a canoe loaded with provisions and gifts. But shoreward suddenly appeared a whole fleet of canoes, evidently bent on surrounding the “Lady Alice.” As her crew bent to their oars in order to escape, a storm of lances came upon them from the first canoe, whose captain held up a string of beads in a tantalizing manner which he had stolen from the white man’s boat. Stanley fired upon him and doubled him up in his boat. Then using his larger rifle he punctured the foremost of the other canoes with heavy bullets below the water line, so that they had enough to do to keep them from sinking. They ceased to give chase and the “Lady Alice” escaped.

Directly north of Victoria Nyanza is Uganda or the country of the Waganda,[1] over which King Mtesa presides. Stanley struck the country on the next day after his adventure with the Wavuma. It was a revelation to him. He fancied he had, in a night, passed from Pagan Africa to Mohammedan Europe or Asia. Instead of the stones and spear thrusts of the Wavuma he met with nothing save courtesy and hospitality. In place of naked howling savages he now saw bronze-colored people, clean, neatly clad, with good houses, advanced agriculture, well adapted industry, and considerable knowledge of the arts.

[Footnote 1: NOTE:——In Eastern and Central Africa, from the Lakes of the Nile to Hottentotland the native races belong to the Bantu division of the African stock. They are not so dark as, and in many respects differ from, the true negroes of the Western or Atlantic coast. Throughout this entire Bantu division the prefix “U” means a country. Thus U-ganda is the country of Ganda. So “Wa,” or in some places “Ba,” “Ma” or “Ama,” means people. Thus Wa-ganda means the people of Uganda. So would Ba-ganda, Ma-ganda, or Ama-ganda. “Ki” means the language. Ki-ganda is the language of the Uganda. “Mena” means the prince of a tribe. By recollecting these, the reader will be much assisted.]

The village chief approached attired in a white shirt, and a fine cloak of bark-cloth having over it a monkey skin fur. On his head was a handsome cap, on his feet sandals. His attendants were clothed in the same style, though less costly. He smilingly bade the strangers welcome, spread before them a feast of dressed kid, ripe bananas, clotted milk, sweet potatoes and eggs, with apologies for having been caught unprepared for his guests.

Stanley looked on in wonder. It was a land of sunshine and plenty——a green and flowery Paradise set between the brilliant sky and the pure azure of the lake. Care and want seem never to have intruded here. There was food and to spare growing wild in the woods or in the cultivated patches around the snug homesteads. Every roomy, dome-shaped hut had its thatched portico where the inhabitants chatted and smoked. Surrounding them were court-yards, with buildings which served as barns, kitchens and wash-houses, all enclosed in trimly kept hedges. Outside was the peasants’ garden where crops of potatoes, yams, pease, kidney-beans and other vegetables grew of a size that would make a Florida gardner envious. Bordering the gardens were patches of tobacco, coffee, sugar-cane, and castor oil plant, all for family use. Still further beyond were fields of maize and other grains, and plantations of banana, plantain, and fig. Large commons afforded pasturage for flocks of goats and small, white, harmless cattle.

The land is of inexhaustible fertility. The sunshine is unfailing; drought in this moist climate is unknown; and the air is cooled and purified by the breezes from the lake and from the mountains. Within his own inclosure the peasant has enough and to spare for himself and his household, both of luxuries and necessaries. His maize fields furnish him with the staff of life, and the fermented grain yields the “pombe,” which he regards almost as much a requisite of existence as bread itself. The grinding of flour and the brewing of beer are all performed under his own eye by his family. The fig-tree yields him the bark out of which his clothes are made; but the banana is, perhaps, the most indispensable of the gifts of nature in these climes. It supplies him, says Stanley, with “bread, potatoes, dessert, wine, beer, medicine, house and fence, bed, cloth, cooking-pot, table-cloth, parcel-wrapper, thread, cord, rope, sponge, bath, shield, sun-hat, and canoe. With it, he is happy, fat, and thriving; without it, a famished, discontented, woe-begone wretch.” The banana grows to perfection in Uganda; groves of it embower every village, and the Waganda in addition to being fat and prosperous have plenty of leisure for the arts of war and peace.

They are unfortunately inclined to war, though they make cloth, tan skins, work in metals, and build houses and canoes. Even literature is not unknown among them. Well might Speke have said of Ripon Falls at the outlet of the Nile, with “a wife and family, a yacht and a gun, a dog and a rod, one might here be supremely happy and never wish to visit the haunts of civilization again.”

Word is sent to the king of the arrival of the strangers. An escort comes inviting them to the court. The new comer quite eclipsed the village chiefs in the gorgeousness of his apparel. A huge plume of cock’s feathers surmounted an elaborately worked head-dress. A crimson robe hung about him with a grace worthy an ancient Roman, while over it was hung a snow-white goat-skin. The progress to the headquarters of the court was conducted with due pomp and circumstance. Every step Stanley’s wonderment and admiration increased; each moment he received new proofs that he had fallen among a people as different from those whom his previous wanderings had made him acquainted with as are white Americans from Choctaws. Emerging from the margin of dense forests and banana and plantain groves on the lake shores, the singular beauty of the land revealed itself to him. Wherever he turned his eyes there was a brilliant play of colors, and a boldness and diversity of outline such as he had never before seen. Broad, straight, and carefully-kept roads led through a rolling, thickly-peopled country clad in perennial green. Now the path would dive down into a hollow, where it was shaded by the graceful fronds of plantains and other tropical trees, where a stream murmured over the stones, and the air was filled with the fragrance of fruit; and then again it would crest a ridge, from whence a magnificent prospect could be obtained of the sea-like expanse of the lake, with its wooded capes and islands, the dim blue lines of the distant hills, and the fruitful and smiling country lying between, its soft, undulating outline of forest-covered valley and grassy hill sharply broken by gigantic table-topped masses of gray rocks and profound ravines.

At length crowning the summit of a smooth hill appeared King Mtesa’s capital, Rubaga. A number of tall huts clustered around one taller than the rest from which waved the imperial standard of the Uganda. A high cane fence surrounds the court with gates opening on four broad avenues that stretch to the bottom of the hill. These are lined with fences and connected with paths shaded with groves of banana, fig and other fruit trees, and amid these groves are the houses of the commonalty. After due delay——court etiquette is even more tedious and ceremonious in Africa than Europe——Stanley is ushered into the presence of the king, seated in his great audience hall, and surrounded by a host of chiefs, warriors, pages, standard-bearers, executioners, drummers, fifers, clowns, dwarfs, wizards, medicine men, slaves and other retainers.

And here we have a fine opportunity to compare the notes of two observers of the king’s receptions. Stanley had a second interview at the “royal palace,” on which occasion the king received also M. Linant De Bellefonds, sent by Gordon Pasha on a mission to Uganda. The monarch prepared a surprise for him by having Stanley by his side. But let De Bellefonds speak.

“On entering the court I am greeted with a frightful uproar. A thousand instruments produce the most discordant and deafening sounds. Mtesa’s bodyguard, carrying guns, present arms on my appearance. The king is standing at the entrance to the reception hall. I approach and bow like a Turk. We shake hands. I perceive a sun-burned European by the king’s side, whom I take to be Cameron. We all enter the reception room——a room 15 feet wide by 60 feet long, its roof supported by two rows of light pillars, making an aisle, which is filled with chief officers and guards, the latter armed. Mtesa takes his seat on the throne, which is like a wooden office chair. His feet rest on a cushion. The whole is in the centre of a leopard skin spread upon a Smyrna rug. Before him is a highly polished elephant’s tusk, at his feet two boxes containing fetishes, on either side a lance of copper and steel. At his feet are two scribes. The king behaves dignifiedly and does not lack an air of distinction. His dress is faultless——a white couftan finished with a red band, stockings, slippers, vest of black and gold, a turban with a silver plate on top, a sword with an ivory hilt and a staff. I show my presents, but royal dignity forbids him to show any curiosity. I say to the traveller on his left ‘Have I the honor to address Mr. Cameron?’ He says, ‘No sir; Mr. Stanley.’ I introduce myself. We bow low, and our conversation ends for the moment.”

Who is this singular Mtesa and how has his more singular fabric of empire been built up in the heart of savage Africa?

All around is the night of Pagan darkness, ignorance, and cruelty. Here, in the land of the Waganda, if there is, as yet, no light to speak of, there is a ruddy tinge in the midst of the blackness that seems to give promise of approaching dawn. If the people are still blood-thirsty, revengeful, and fond of war and pillage, they have learned some lessons in observing law and order; they practice some useful arts; they observe many of the decencies of life, and in the cleanliness of their houses and persons they are examples to some European countries. The Waganda themselves have a high opinion of their own importance; and their legends carry back their origin to what, for an African tribe, is a remote past. The story, as related by them to Captain Speke, is as follows:——

“Eight generations ago a sportsman from Unyoro, by name Uganda, came with a pack of dogs, a woman, a spear, and a shield, hunting on the left bank of the Katonga Valley, not far from the lake. He was but a poor man, though so successful in hunting that vast numbers flocked to him for flesh, and became so fond of him as to invite him to be their king. At first Uganda hesitated. Then the people, hearing his name, said, ‘well at any rate let the country between the Nile and the Katonga be called Uganda and let your name be Kimera the first king of Uganda.’ The report of these proceedings reached the ears of the king of Unyoro, who merely said, ‘The poor creature must be starving, allow him to feed where he likes.’

“Kimera assumed authority, grew proud and headstrong, punished severely and became magnificent. He was content with nothing short of the grandest palace, a throne to sit on, the largest harem, the smartest officers, the best dressed people, a menagerie for pleasure and the best of everything. Armies were formed and fleets of canoes built for war. Highways were cut from one end of the country to the other and all the rivers were bridged. No house could be built without its necessary out buildings and to disobey the laws of cleanliness was death. He formed a perfect system of paternal government according to his own ideas, and it has never declined, but rather improved.”

Stanley heard from Sabadu, the court historian of Uganda, a somewhat different story. According to him Kimera did not found the government but was only one of a long list of thirty-five monarchs. He however first taught his countrymen the delight of sport. He was, in fact, the Nimrod of Uganda genealogy, and a mighty giant to boot, the mark of whose enormous foot is still pointed out on a rock near the lake, where he had slipped while hurling a spear at an elephant. The first of the Waganda was Kintu, a blameless priest, who objected to the shedding of blood——a scruple which does not seem to have been shared by any of his descendants——and who came into this Lake Region when it was absolutely empty of human inhabitants. From Kintu, Sabadu traced the descent of his master through a line of glorious ancestry,——warriors and legislators, who performed the most astounding deeds of valor and wisdom,——and completely proved that, whatever may be the condition of history, fiction, at least, flourishes at the court of Mtesa. Passing over a hero who crushed hosts of his enemies by flying up into the air and dropping great rocks upon their heads, and a doughty champion who took his stand on a hill and there for three days withstood the assaults of all comers, catching the spears thrown at him and flinging them back, until he was surrounded by a wall of two thousand slain, we come to Suna, the father of Mtesa, who died only a little before Speke and Grant’s visit to the country. Suna, by all accounts, was a gloomy monarch, who sat with his eyes broodingly bent on the ground, only raising them to give the signal to his executioners for the slaughter of some of his subjects. It is told of this sanguinary despot that one day he caused 800 of his people to be killed in his sight, and that he made a ghastly pyramid of the bodies of 20,000 Wasoga prisoners, inhabitants of the opposite shore of the Victoria Nile.

The chiefs rejected his eldest son as his successor and chose the mild-eyed Mtesa. The “mild-eyed” signalized his election by killing all his nearest relatives and his father’s best counsellors. He was drunk with power and pombe. It was now that Speke and Grant saw him. They describe him as a wretch who was peculiarly liable to fits of frenzy, during which he would order the slaughter of those who were his best friends an hour before, or arming himself with a bundle of spears would go into his harem and throw them indiscriminately among his wives and children.

It is said a change came over him by being converted to Mohammedanism. He gave up his drinking and many Pagan practices of his fathers, though still believing in wizards and charms. The Moslem Sabbath is observed and Arabic literature has been introduced.

Stanley describes him as a tall slim man of thirty years, with fine intelligent features and an expression in which amiability is blended with dignity. His eyes are “large lustrous and lambent.” His skin is a reddish brown and wonderfully smooth. In council, he is sedate and composed; in private, free and hilarious. Of his intelligence and capacity there can be no question. Nor can it be doubted that he has a sincere liking for white men. His curiosity about civilized peoples, their customs, manufactures and inventions is insatiable, and he seems to have once entertained the idea of modeling his kingdom after a civilized pattern. He showed “Stamlee” (Stanley) and other white visitors the greatest hospitality. Yet there was something cat-like in his caressing and insinuating ways. His smiles and attentions could not be relied on any more than the fawning of the leopard, which the kings of Uganda take for their royal badge.

Stanley tried to convert him from his Moslem faith to Christianity. He got so far as to have him write the Ten Commandments for daily perusal and keep the Christian along with the Moslem Sabbath. This was on his first visit. But on his return to Rubaga he found the king had gone to war with the Wavuma. He went along and had excellent opportunity to notice the king’s power.

His estimate of Mtesa’s fighting strength on this occasion was an army of 150,000 men, and as many more camp followers in the shape of women and children. There were not less than 500 large canoes, over seventy feet in length, requiring 8500 paddlers. The whole population of his territory he estimated at 3,500,000, and its extent at 70,000 square miles.

The Wavuma could not muster over 200 canoes, but they were more agile on the water than the Uganda, so that the odds were not so great after all. Day after day they kept Mtesa’s fleet at bay, and readily paddled out of reach of his musketry and howitzers planted on a cape which extended into the lake. Mtesa got very mad and began to despair. He applied to all his sorcerers and medicine men, and at length came to Stanley, who suggested the erection of a causeway from the point of the cape to the enemy’s shore. It proved to be too big a task, and was given over. But the American pushed his project of converting the king, now that he stood in the position of adviser. He succeeded, as he thought. But a few days later the Uganda fleet suffered a reverse, and the newly fledged Christian was found running around in a frenzy, shouting for the blood of his enemies and giving orders for the roasting alive of a prisoner who had been taken. Stanley gave his pupil a well-deserved scolding; and thinking it was time to interfere in the war, which was hindering him from continuing his journey, he put into operation a little project he had conceived, and which is worthy of being placed beside the famous device of the “horse” by which the Greeks captured Troy town. Joining three canoes together, side by side, by poles lashed across them, he constructed on this platform a kind of wicker-work fort, which concealed a crew and garrison of two hundred men. This strange structure, covered by streamers, and with the drums and horns giving forth a horrible din, moved slowly towards the enemy’s stronghold, propelled by the paddles working between the canoes. The Wavuma watched with terror the approach of this awful apparition, which bore down upon them as if moved by some supernatural force. When it had advanced to within hailing distance, a voice was heard issuing from the mysterious visitant, which called on the Wavuma to submit to Mtesa or destruction would come on them. The bold islanders were awestruck. A council of war was held, when a chief stepped to the shore and cried, “Return, O Spirit; the war is ended!” A peace was sealed with the usual tribute of ivory and female slaves for the king’s harem.

The next morning the king’s war drums suddenly sounded the breaking up of his immense encampment on the shore, and Stanley discovered it to be on fire in a hundred places. All had to flee for their lives, and he thinks hundreds must have perished in the confusion. The king denied that he was responsible for an order which resulted in such a horror, but Stanley thought he was guilty of a piece of unwarranted cruelty, which illy became his new profession of faith. From that time on, his views began to change. Ingenious, enterprising, intelligent he found them, above any other African tribe he had met with. Their scrupulous cleanliness, neatness, and modesty cover a multitude of faults; but for the rest, “they are crafty, fraudful, deceiving, lying, thievish knaves, taken as a whole, and seem to be born with an uncontrollable love of gaining wealth by robbery, violence and murder.” Notwithstanding first impressions to the contrary, they are more allied to the Choctaw than the Anglo-Saxon, and are simply clever savages, whom prosperity and a favorable climate have helped several stages on the long, toilsome road towards civilization. There is no call upon us after all to envy their luxurious lives of ease and plenty under the shade of their bowers of vine, fig, and plantain trees——

“For we hold the gray Barbarian lower than the Christian child.”

Nevertheless, Uganda, from its fertility and its situation at the outlet of the great fresh-water sea of the Nyanza, must be regarded as one of the most hopeful fields of future commercial enterprise, and its people as among the most promising subjects for missionary and philanthropic efforts in Central Africa.

As for the mighty Mtesa, little has been seen or heard of him since his friend “Stamlee” parted from him. Colonel Chaille Long, late of the Confederate Army, afterwards in the service of Egypt, who had seen him a few months before, did not think he would ever turn out to be a humane monarch. But that he has not lost his interest in his white friends and in the marvels of civilization was shown in the spring of 1880, when a deputation of four of his chiefs appeared in London on a tour of observation.

De Bellefonds, mentioned above as meeting Stanley at King Mtesa’s court, was murdered, with all his party, by the Unyoro, when on his way back to Gondokoro. Colonel Long went down the Victoria Nile from Lake Victoria Nyanza, and midway between the Victoria and Albert Nyanza discovered another great lake which he called Lake Ibrahim.

The last white visitors to the Nile reservoirs were an English party sent out to establish a Christian mission on Lake Victoria Nyanza. It consisted of Lieutenant Smith, and Messrs. Wilson and O’Neil. They took a small steamer along in sections from Zanzibar, and successfully floated the first steam craft on the bosom of the great lake. Wilson established himself at the court of King Mtesa. Smith and Wilson, while exploring the lake, were driven by a storm on the island of the Ukerewe, whose chief, Lukongeh, had been kind to Stanley. But no faith can be put in African princes. On December 7, 1877, Lukongeh attacked the missionary camp and massacred Smith and Wilson with all their black attendants. With this dismal incident the history of the exploration of Victoria Nyanza closes for the present, except as we shall have to follow Stanley after leaving the court of King Mtesa on his trip down the western shore of the lake. It must be remembered that he was twice to see the king, once on his tour of circumnavigation, and then after he had completed it.

After he rounded the northern end of the lake and was well on his way down its western shores, he met with the most perilous of his adventures. The voyagers were nearly out of provisions. They had passed days of weary toil under the blistering tropical sun, and dismal nights of hunger on shelterless, uninhabited islands, when the grassy slopes of Bumbireh hove in sight. Numerous villages were seen in the shelter of the forest, with herds of cattle, maize fields, and groves of fruit trees, and altogether the island seemed to offer a haven of rest and plenty to the weary mariners. There was no food left in the boat, and a landing had to be attempted at all risks. The look of the Bumbireh natives was not so prepossessing as that of their land. They rushed down from their villages, shouting war-songs and brandishing their clubs and spears. No sooner had the boat reached shallow water, than they seized upon her, and dragged her, crew and all, high up on the rocky beach. “The scene that ensued,” says the traveller, “baffles description. Pandemonium——all the devils armed——raged around us. A forest of spears was levelled; thirty or forty bows were drawn taut; as many barbed arrows seemed already on the wing; knotty clubs waved above our heads; two hundred screaming black demons jostled each other, and struggled for room to vent their fury, or for an opportunity to deliver one crushing blow or thrust at us.”

In point of fact, no thrust was delivered, and possibly none was intended; but the situation was certainly an unpleasant one. The troop of gesticulating, yelling savages increased every second; and the diabolical noise of a number of drums increased the hub-bub. The islanders began to jostle their guests, to pilfer, and at last they seized upon the oars. Stanley put his companions on their guard and fired his double-barreled elephant rifle into the crowd. Two men fell. He increased the panic among them, by two rounds of duck shot, and in the midst of the confusion the “Lady Alice” was run down the bank and pushed far into the water. But this scarcely improved the position. The enemy swarmed on the shore and threw stones and lances at the crew. Canoes were making ready to pursue. Stanley ordered the crew to tear up the bottom boards for paddles and to pull away with all their might. All were doing the best they could, but a paralysis seized them when they discovered they were directly in the track of two huge hippopotami which had been started up by the noises of the melee, and enraged to the attacking point. The elephant rifle was again brought into requisition and the course cleared by planting an explosive bullet in each animal’s head.

Four of the canoes of the natives were now upon them. They meant war in earnest. The elephant rifle was used with effect. Four shots killed five of the natives and sank two canoes. The other two stopped to pick up their companions. They shouted in their rage, as they saw their prize escape, “go, and die in the Nyanza!”

Dismal days of famine and hardship followed. A storm overtook them and tossed them for hours, drenched with spray and rain. They had but four bananas on board. Happily another island was sighted and reached, which proved to be uninhabited. There they obtained food, shelter and much needed rest. Most travellers would have given Bumbireh a wide berth in the future. Not so Stanley. He pursued his course to Kagehyi, his starting point, having circumnavigated the lake in 60 days. There he assembled his own forces, and added recruits loaned by King Mtesa. With 230 spearmen and 50 musketeers he put back to the offending island determined to punish the two or three thousand natives they found ranged along the shores. They held their own with slings and arrows against the approach of the boats for an hour. But at length they were put to flight and Stanley considered he had wiped out the insult, though they appear to have been pretty well punished before.

During his two months’ absence Frederick Barker died at Kagehyi. This sad event was one of the items of heavy cost attending great feats of exploration. It left Stanley with but one English companion.

Stanley’s exploration of Victoria Nyanza confirmed in part, Speke’s discovery and theories. It showed that it was a Nile reservoir, though not an ultimate source, 21,000 square miles in extent. Excellent havens, navigable streams and fertile islands were revealed for the first time. Rich and beautiful countries are romantically pictured to us.

After having paid court to King Mtesa a second time, as already described, the time came for Stanley to extend his journey. He chose to follow the line of the Equator westward with the hope of striking a southern extension of Baker’s Albert Nyanza. He departed from Mtesa’s old capital, Ulagalla, laden with presents and food, and accompanied by a hundred Uganda warriors. Stanley, in turn, gave bountiful parting presents, and even remembered the chief Lukongeh of Ukerewë, who showed his appreciation of this kindness by murdering the very next white visitors——Smith and O’Neill, as above narrated.

Further on, near the boundary between Uganda and Unyoro, a body of 2000 Waganda spearmen joined Stanley, making a force of nearly 3000 souls——quite too large for practical exploration as the sequel proved. The path led through scenes of surpassing beauty and fertility, and of a character that changed from soft tropical luxuriance to Alpine magnificence.

After getting away from the forest covered lowlands of the lake shore, they emerge into a rolling country dotted with ant hills and thinly sprinkled with tamarisks and thorny acacias. Then come rougher ways and wilder scenes. The land-swells are higher, the valleys deeper. Rocks break through the surface, and the slopes are covered with splintered granite. The streams that were warm and sluggish, are now cold and rapid. By and by mountains set in, at first detached masses and then clearly defined ranges, rising 9000 to 10,000 feet on the right hand and the left. Cutting breezes and chilly mists take the place of intense tropical heats. At length the monarch of mountains in this part of Africa comes into view and is named Mount Gordon Bennett. It lifts its head, at a distance of 40 miles north of their route, to a height of 15,000 feet, and seems to be a detached mass which overlooks the entire country. Its bases are inhabited by the Gambaragara, who have regular features, light complexions, and are the finest natives Mr. Stanley saw in Africa. Sight of them brought up the old question, whether an indigenous white race exists in Africa, as both Pinto and Livingstone seemed inclined to believe. But their wooly, or curly, hair was against them. They are a pastoral people and safe in their mountain fastnesses against attack. Snow often covered the top of their high mountain, which they said was an extinct crater and now the bed of a beautiful lake from whose centre rises a lofty column of rocks. The whole country is filled with hot springs, lakes of bubbling mud and other evidences of volcanic action.

These mountains Stanley thought to be the dividing ridge between Victoria Nyanza, 120 miles east, and the southern projection of Albert Nyanza. But what was his astonishment to find that he had no sooner rose to the summit of his dividing ridge than he stood on a precipice, 1500 feet high, which overlooked the placid waters of the traditional Muta, or Luta, Nzigé. What a prize was here in store for the venturesome American! Something indeed which would rob Baker of his claim to the discovery of an ultimate Nile source in Albert Nyanza. Something which would set at rest many geographic controversies. And, strange to say, something which not only supported the truth of native accounts but seemed to verify the accuracy of an old Portuguese map dating back nearly 300 years.

But fortune was not in favor of the American. His large force had scared the Unyoro people, and they had mysteriously disappeared. The Waganda warriors, who formed his escort, looked ominously on this situation. Samboozi, the leader of the escort, had gained his laurels fighting the Unyoro, and he feared a trap of some kind was being laid for him. His fears demoralized his own men and Stanley’s as well. They decided to retreat. Stanley remonstrated, and asked them to remain till he could lower his boat and explore the lake. He asked for but two days grace. But expostulation was vain. They would all have deserted in a body.

There was nothing left but to return. When they arrived at Mtesa’s capital, which they did without accident, the king was frightfully mad at his men. He ordered the faithless Samboozi to be imprisoned and all his wives and flocks to be confiscated. Then he offered Stanley his great general Sekebobo with an army of a hundred thousand men to carry him back to the Muta Nzigé. Stanley declined his munificent offer, and determined that in the future none should guide and govern his own force except himself. So, with very much modified impressions of Uganda faithfulness, and somewhat angrily, he started off in a southerly direction, intending to see what lay westward of Victoria Nyanza.

This route of Stanley southward was that of Speke and Grant northward, fourteen years before. It is a well watered, thickly peopled, highly cultivated country, diversified by hill and hollow, and rich in cattle. Its water courses all drain into the Victoria Nyanza. Their heads are rushing streams, but as they approach the lake they become reedy, stagnant lakelets hard to cross. The largest of these, at the southwest corner of Victoria Nyanza, is Speke’s Kitangule, which Stanley named the Alexandra Nile. Will we never have done with these Nile rivers? These continuations of the great river of Egypt?

It seems then that Victoria Nyanza is but a resting place for more southern Nile waters. That this is so, seems clear from the fact that the Alexandra Nile really contributes more water than flows out of the lake at its northern outlet. It has been discovered also that Albert Nyanza sends off another affluent to the north, besides that which flows past Gondokoro and which has been regarded as the true Nile. Further it seems that Lake Ibrahim, half way between Victoria and Albert Nyanza, on the Victoria Nile, dispatches an unknown branch into the wilderness. Whether these branches find their way back to the parent stream or go off to form new lakes, no one can exactly say.

But in the Alexandra Nile Stanley claims he has discovered a new ramification of this wonderful river system leading to other lakes and lake mysteries. The natives call the Alexandra the “Mother of the waters of Uganda,” that is, the Victoria Nyanza or Victoria Nile. Be this as it may, the Alexandra Nile is interesting both for its own sake and that of the people who live upon it. Stanley struck it far up from the lake where it was a quarter of a mile wide, with a dark central current 100 yards wide and fifty feet deep, which below became a rush covered stream whose banks were crowded with villages and herds of cattle. Still further on, it narrows between rocks over which it rushes in a cataract, and then it broadens to lake proportions, being from four to fifteen miles wide. In this expanse of reedy lagoons and green islands it merges into Victoria Nyanza Lake.

Crossing the Alexandra Nile to the south, we are in the Karagwe country, ruled by King Rumanika. Here is a haven of peace and rest. Speke and Grant staid many weeks with Rumanika. Stanley stopped for a considerable while to rest and recruit. He is gentle and reasonable, hospitable and friendly. He is a vassal of King Mtesa of Uganda, but the two are wholly different, except in their admiration of white men. Rumanika has no bursts of temper, but is serene, soft of voice and placid in manner. Stanley calls him a “venerable and aged Pagan,” a tall man, six feet six inches high, gorgeously dressed, attended by a multitude of spearmen, drummers and fifers, bearing a cane seven feet long. He has a museum in which he delights, and is an insatiable gatherer of news from those who come from civilized countries. He is not to be outdone by the stories of strangers, but has always one in response ever fuller of marvel. When Stanley told him of the results of steam power and of the telegraph by which people could talk for thousands of miles, he slily asked “Whether or not the moon made different faces to laugh at us mortals on earth?”

He proved full of traditions and, if there was any foundation for them, Stanley left with a rare fund of geographic knowledge on hand. The mountain sixty miles northward, rising in triple cone and called M’Fumbiro, he said was in the country of the Ruanda, a powerful state governed by an empress, who allows no stranger to enter. Her dominions stretch from the Muta Nzigé to Tanganyika. They contain another great lake, forty by thirty miles, out of which the Alexandra Nile flows. It is possible to ascend this channel into another sheet of water——Lake Kivu, out of which at its southern end flows another stream, the Rusizi, which flows into the north end of Tanganyika.

What wonderful information this was, and if all true, we should have the most bewildering river system, by all odds in the world. We should find the old Portuguese map of three hundred years ago reproduced and verified, and the anomaly of three mighty streams draining a continent mingling their parent waters, and even permitting the passage of a boat at high water, so that in the end it might go to the Mediterranean, the Atlantic or Indian Oceans.

Further, Rumanika stated that Ruanda is peopled by demons, and that beyond, on a lake called Mkinyaga, are a race of cannibals, and also pigmies, not two feet high. Stanley verified the king’s story by a visit to the Ruanda folks, who gnashed their teeth like dogs and otherwise expressed their objections to his visit; and Dr. Schweinfurth found, a little nearer the western coast, evidences of a tribe of dwarfs who are supposed to be the aboriginal people of the continent. But the hardest of Rumanika’s stories was of a tribe who had ears so long that one answered for a blanket to lie on and another as a cover for the sleeper. Stanley began to think his civilized wonders were too tame to pit against those of the African king.

The larger African animals abound in the Karagwe country. Stanley was much interested in the accounts of white elephants and rhinoceri. He had the good fortune to find one of the former animals, which he shot, but found it only a dirty grey brute, just as we find the advertised white elephants of the menagerie. The elephant is the most unpleasant neighbor of the rhinoceros. If they meet in a jungle the rhinoceros has to squeeze his ponderous body into the thicket or prepare for a battle royal. In such a quarrel his tusk is an ugly weapon but no match for the tusks of the elephant. The elephant sometimes treats him like a school boy and, breaking off a limb, belabors the unlucky rhinoceros till he beats a retreat. At other times the elephant will force him against a tree and pin him there with his tusks, or throw him down and tramp him till the life is out of him. Perhaps these were more of Rumanika’s yarns, but certain it is both beasts are formidable in a forest path, especially when alone and of surly temper.

On the southern borders of Karagwe is a ridge 5000 feet high. Beyond this the waters trend southward and toward Tanganyika. And beyond this ridge the people change. There are no more stately kings, but petty, lying, black-mailing chiefs, just as we found about Gondokoro. Here Stanley encountered Mirambo, whose name is a word of terror from the Victoria Lake to the Nyassa, and from Tanganyika to Zanzibar. To the explorer’s astonishment he found this notorious personage——

“The mildest-mannered man That ever cut a throat”——

in short “a thorough African gentleman.”

He had difficulty in believing that this “unpresuming, mild-eyed man, of inoffensive exterior, so calm of gesture, so generous and open-handed,” was the terrible man of blood who wasted villages, slaughtered his foes by the thousand, and kept a district of ninety thousand square miles in continual terror. Incontinently, the impulsive explorer resolved to swear “blood brother-hood” with the other wandering warrior, and the ceremony was gone through with all due solemnity. The marauding chief presented his new brother with a quantity of cloth, and the explorer gave him in return a revolver and a quantity of ammunition; and then, mutually pleased with each other, they parted——Mirambo and his merry men to the gay greenwood, where, doubtless, they had a pressing engagement to meet some other party of travellers, and Stanley for Ujiji.

Ujiji is on Lake Tanganyika. Here we have to leave Stanley, for he is now done with the sources of the Nile, and midway on that wonderful journey which revealed the secrets of the Congo. We will follow him thence and see what he discovered and how he lifted the fog amid which Livingstone died, but that will have to be under the head of the “Congo Country” whose mystery he solved more clearly even than that of the “Nile Reservoirs.”

THE ZAMBESI.

The great river Zambesi runs eastward across Southern Africa and empties, by many mouths, into the Indian Ocean. It is an immense water system, with its head far toward the Atlantic Ocean, yet draining on its north side that mysterious lake region which occupies Central Africa, and on its south side an almost equally mysterious region.

Its lower waters have been known for a long time, but its middle waters and its sources have been shrouded in a cloud of doubts as dense as that which overhung the reservoirs of the Nile. Livingstone has contributed more than any other explorer to the lifting of these doubts.

He was born in Glasgow, March 19, 1813, and was self-educated. He studied medicine and became attached to the London Missionary Society as medical missionary. In 1840, at the age of twenty-seven years, he was sent to Cape Town at the southern terminus of Africa, whence he went 700 miles inland to the Kuruman Station, established by Moffat on the southern border of the Kalihari desert. Here and at Kolobeng, on the Kolobeng River, he acquired the language of the natives, principally Bechuana. On a return trip from Kolobeng to Kuruman he came near losing his life by an adventure with a lion. The country was being ravaged by a troop of these beasts. When one of their number is killed, the rest take the hint and leave. It was determined to dispatch one, and a hunt was organized in company with the natives. They found the troop on a conical hill. The hunters formed a circle around the hill and gradually closed in. Meblawe, a native schoolmaster, fired at one of the animals which was sitting on a rock. The bullet struck the rock. The angered beast bit the spot where the bullet struck and then bounded away. In a few moments Livingstone himself got a shot at another beast. The ball took effect but did not kill. The enraged beast dashed at his assailant before he could re-load, and sprang upon him. He was borne to the ground beneath the lion’s paws and felt his hot breath on his face. Another moment must have brought death. But the infuriated beast saw Mebalwe, who had snapped both barrels of his rifle at him. He made a dash for him and lacerated his thigh in a terrible manner. The natives, who had hitherto acted in a very cowardly manner, now came to the rescue with their spears. One of their number was pounced upon and badly torn. The beast now began to weaken from the effect of Livingstone’s shot, and with a quiver throughout his huge frame rolled over on his side dead. After the excitement was over Dr. Livingstone found eleven marks of the lion’s teeth on his left arm, which was broken close to the shoulder and the bone crushed into splinters.

Livingstone married Moffat’s daughter in 1844. She had been born in the country and was a thorough missionary. He made Kolobeng a beautiful station and produced an excellent impression on the natives——all except the Boer tribes to the south and east, who had become much incensed against the English, owing as they thought, to the particularly harsh treatment they had received down in their former homes south of the Vaal River.

At Kolobeng, Livingstone first heard of Lake Ngami, north of the Kalihari Desert. He resolved to visit it, and started in May 1849, in company with his wife and children, several English travellers and a large party of Bechuana attendants. They rather skirted than crossed the desert, yet they found it to consist of vast salt plains, which gave a constant mirage as if the whole were water. Though destitute of water, there are tufts of dry salt-encrusted grass here and there, which relieve it of an appearance of barrenness, but which crumble at the touch.

In July they struck the river Cubango, or Zonga, flowing eastward and, as far as known, losing itself in a great central salt-lake, or Dead Sea. They were told that the Zonga came out of Lake Ngami, further west. Ascending the river sixty miles they struck the lake, and were the first Europeans to behold this fine sheet of water. The great tribe about and beyond the lake is the Makololo, whose chief is Sebituane, a generous hearted and truly noble character. They could not see him on this trip. So they returned, making easy journeys down the Zonga, admiring its beautiful banks, which abounded in large game, especially elephants.

The next year (1850), Livingstone and his family started again for Lake Ngami, accompanied by the good chief Sechele, who took along a wagon, drawn by oxen. While this means of locomotion gave comfort to the family, it involved much labor in clearing roads, and the animals suffered sadly from attacks by the tsetse fly, whose sting is poisonous. But the lake was reached in safety. The season proved sickly, and a return journey became compulsory, without seeing Sebituane. But the chief had heard of Livingstone’s attempts to visit his court, and he sent presents, and invitations to another visit. He set out on a third journey, and this time directly across the desert, where they suffered much for want of water.

This time they found the chief. His headquarters were on an island in the river, below the lake. He received the party with the greatest courtesy, and appeared to be the best mannered and frankest chief Livingstone ever met. He was about forty-five years old, tall and wiry, of coffee-and-milk complexion, slightly bald, of undoubted bravery, always leading his men in battle, and by far the most powerful warrior beyond Cape Colony. He had reduced tribe after tribe, till his dominions extended far into the desert on the south of the Zonga, embraced both sides of that stream, and ran northward to, and beyond, the great Zambesi River.

Chief Sebituane died while Livingstone was visiting him, and was succeeded by his daughter Ma-Mochisane. She extended the privileges of the country to the travellers, and Livingstone went north to Sesheke to see her. Here in June, 1851, he discovered the great Zambesi in the centre of the continent of Africa where it was not previously known to exist——all former maps being incorrect.

Though the country was not healthy, he was so impressed with the beauty of the Zambesi regions, and the character of the Makololo people, that he resolved to make a permanent establishment among them. But before doing so he returned to Cape Colony and sent his family to England. Then he went back, visiting his old stations on the way. He arrived at Linyanti, where he found that the new queen had abdicated in favor of her brother, on May 23, 1853. The new king Sekelutu was not unlike his father in stature and color, was kindly disposed toward white people, but could not be convinced that their religious notions were suited to him.

Livingstone remained a month at Linyanti, on the Chobe, or Cuando River, above its junction with the Zambezi. He then started on a further exploration of the latter river, and was gratified to find that Sekelutu determined to accompany him with 160 attendants. They made royal progress down the Chobe to its mouth. Then they began to ascend the Zambesi in thirty-three canoes. The river was more than a mile broad, dotted with large islands and broken with frequent rapids and falls. The banks were thickly strewn with villages. Elephants were numerous. It was the new king’s first visit to his people and everywhere the receptions were grand. Throughout this Barotse valley hunger is not known, yet there is no care exercised in planting.

The spirit of exploration had such full possession of Livingstone that, on the return of the royal party to Linyanti, he organized an expedition to ascend the Zambesi and cut across to Loanda on the Atlantic coast. This he did in 1854. It was on this journey that he discovered Lake Dilolo. It is not much of a lake, being only eight miles long by three broad. But it was a puzzle to Livingstone, and has ever since been a curiosity. It is the connecting link between two immense water systems——that of the Congo and Zambesi.

When he struck it on his westward journey toward Loanda, he found it sending out a volume into the Zambesi. “Head-waters of a great river!” he naturally exclaimed. And there was the elevation above the sea, the watershed, to prove it, for soon after all the waters ran northward and westward instead of eastward and southward.

But in a few months he was making his return journey from Loanda to the interior, to fulfil his pledge to bring back his Makololo attendants in safety. He then approached this lake from the north. What was his surprise to find another slow moving, reed-covered stream a mile wide, flowing from this end of the mysterious lake and sending its waters toward the Congo.

Though ill with fever both times, he was able to conquer disease sufficiently to satisfy himself that this little lake, Dilolo, four thousand feet above the sea level, is located exactly on the watershed between the Atlantic and Indian Oceans, and distributes its contents impartially between the two seas. A drop of rain blown by the wind to the one or the other end of the lake may re-enforce the tumbling floods that roar through the channels of the Congo and rush sixty miles out into the salt waters of the Atlantic, or may make with the Zambesi the dizzy leap through the great Victoria Falls and mingle with the Indian ocean. No similar phenomenon is known anywhere. Lake Kivo may form a corresponding band of union between the Congo and the Nile, but this we do not know. Apart from the eccentric double part it plays, the physical features of Dilolo are tame and ordinary enough. It has, of course, hippopotami and crocodiles as every water in Central Africa has, and its banks are fringed with marshes covered with profuse growth of rushes, cane, papyrus, and reeds. Around it stretch wide plains, limitless as the sea, on which for many months of the year the stagnant waters rest, balancing themselves, as it were, between the two sides of a continent, unable to make up their mind whether to favor the east coast or the west with their tribute.

No trees break the horizon. The lands in the fens bear only a low growth of shrub, and the landscape is dismal and monotonous in the extreme. “Dilolo means despair,” and the dwellers near it tell a story curiously resembling the tale of the “Cities of the plain,” and the tradition handed down regarding some of the lakes in Central Asia, of how a venerable wanderer came to this spot near evening and begged for the charity of shelter and food, how the churlish inhabitants mocked his petition, with the exception of one poor man who gave the stranger a nook by his fire and the best his hut afforded, and how after a terrible night of tempest and lightning the hospitable villager found his guest gone and the site of his neighbor’s dwellings occupied by a lake. When the rains have ceased and the hot sun has dried up the moisture the outlook is more cheerful. A bright golden band of flowers of every shade of yellow stretches across the path, then succeeds a stripe of blue, varying from the lightest tint to purple, and so band follows band with the regularity of the stripes on a zebra.

The explorer is glad, however, to escape these splendid watersheds and to pass down into the shadows of the forests of the Zambesi, where, at least, there will be a change of discomforts, and a variety of scenery. There are four methods of travel familiar in Southern Africa. One is the bullock-wagon, convenient and pleasant enough in the Southern Plains, but hardly practicable in the rude wilderness adjoining the Zambesi. Riding on bullock back is a mode of travel which Livingstone frequently adopted from sheer inability to walk from weakness. Marching on foot is, of course, the best of all plans when a thorough and minute acquaintance with the district traversed is desired. But for ease and rapid progress there is nothing like “paddling your own canoe,” or better still, having it paddled for you by skilled boatmen down the deep gorges and through the rushing shallows of the third of the great African rivers. Before the main stream of the Zambesi is reached, the forest shadows of the Lotembwa and the Leeba have to be threaded. These dark moss-covered rivers flow between dripping banks of overgrown forests and jungle with frequent clearings, where the villagers raise their crops of manihoc, the plant that yields the tapioco of commerce, and which here furnishes the chief food of the natives.

Fetisch worship flourishes in these dark and gloomy woods. In their depths a fantastically carved demon face, staring from a tree, will often startle the intruder, or a grotesque representation of a lion or crocodile, or of the human face made of rushes, plastered over with clay and with shells or beads for eyes, will be found perched in a seat of honor with offerings of food and ornaments laid on the rude altar. Whether human sacrifices are offered at these shrines cannot positively be said, but the most simple and trifling acts are “tabooed,” and unless the traveller is exceedingly wary in all that he does or says, he is likely to be met with heavy fines or looked upon as a cursed man, who will bring misfortune on all who aid or approach him. The medicine man has a terrible power which he often exercises over the lives and property of his fellows, and a sentence of witchcraft is often followed by death. A great source of profit is weather-making but, unlike the prophets in the arid deserts on the south, the magicians of this moist, cool region devote their energies to keeping off rain and not to bringing it down from Heaven. Of course if they persevere long enough the rain ceases to fall, and the credulous natives believe that this has been produced by the medicine they have purchased so dearly, just as the Bechuana of the desert believe in the ability of their rain-makers, when handsomely paid, to bring showers down on the thirsty ground by virtue of drumming and dancing.

The behavior of the inhabitants of these villages, on the appearance among them of a white man, is apt to shake the notion of the latter that the superior good looks of his own race are universally acknowledged. Their standard of beauty is quite different from ours. Sometimes a wife is measured by the number of pounds she weighs, sometimes by her color, often by the peculiarities of ornamentation, or by special style of head-dress or some disfigurement of the nose, lips or ears, on which the female population mainly rely for making themselves attractive. The wearing of clothes is regarded as a practice fairly provocative of laughter, and as improper as the want of them would be in America. Nothing could be more hideous to them than the long hair, shaggy beard and whiskers, like the mane of a lion, which strangers wear. If the stranger have blue eyes and red whiskers he is regarded as a hob-goblin, before whom the village girls run away screaming with terror, and the children hide trembling behind their mothers. At the village of the Shinte, the principal tribe on the Leeba River, Livingstone was very kindly treated by the chief. He received him seated in state under the shade of a banyan tree, with his hundred wives seated behind him, and his band of drummers performing in front. Out of gratitude, the Doctor treated the distinguished party to an entertainment with the magic-lantern. The subject was the death of Isaac, and the party looked on with awe as the gigantic figures with flowing Oriental robes, prominent noses, and ruddy complexions appeared upon the curtain. But when the Patriarch’s up-lifted arm, with the dagger in hand, was seen descending, the ladies, fancying that it was about to be sheathed in their bosoms instead of Isaac’s, sprang to their feet with shouts of “Mother! Mother!” and rushed helter-skelter, tumbling pell-mell after each other into corners or out into the open air, and it was impossible to bring them back to witness the Patriarch’s subsequent fortunes.

On the lower part of the Leeba the scenery becomes very beautiful and richly diversified. The alternation of hill and dale, open glade and forest, past which the canoe bears us swiftly, reminds one of a carefully kept park. Animal life becomes more plentiful with every mile of southward progress, and the broad meadows bordering the stream are pastured by great herds of wild animals——buffaloes, antelopes, zebras, elephants, and rhinoceri,——all of which may be slaughtered in scores before they take alarm.

Below the confluence of the Leeba with the Zambesi, the abundance of game on the banks of the river is more remarkable. The air is found darkened by the flight of innumerable water fowl, fish-hawks, cranes, and waders of many varieties. The earth teems with insect life and the waters swarm with fish life. As an instance of the prodigious quantity and exceeding tameness of wild animals here, Livingstone mentions that “eighty-one buffaloes marched in slow procession before our fire one evening within gun shot, and herds of splendid deer sat by day without fear at two hundred yards distance, while all through the night the lions were heard roaring close to the camp.” In the heat of the day sleek elands, tall as ordinary horses, with black glossy bodies and delicately striped skins, browsed or reclined in the shade of the forest trees. Troops of graceful, agile antelopes, of similar species, scour across the pasture lands to seek the cool retreat of some deep dell in the woods, or a solitary rhinoceros comes grunting down to the bank in search of some soft place where he can roll his horny hide in the mud. The trees themselves have a variety and beauty which the sombre evergreen foliage of higher latitudes lacks, and which is equally wanting in the dust colored groves of the desert further south.

The voyage down the stream is by no means without incident. The river swarms with hippopotami and crocodiles. The former lead a lazy sleepy life by day in the bottom of the stream, coming now and then to the surface to breathe and exchange a snort of recognition with their acquaintances, and are only too well pleased to let the passer by go in peace, if he will but let them alone. In districts where they are hunted, they are wary and take care to push no more than the tip of their snouts out of the water, or lie in some bed of rushes where they breathe so softly that they cannot be heard. But in a place where they have not been disturbed, they can be seen swimming about, and sometimes the female hippopotamus can be seen with the little figure of her calf floating on her neck. Certain elderly males who are expelled from the herd become soured in temper and are dangerous to encounter, and so also is a mother if robbed of her young. Such a one made an attack on Livingstone’s boat, when descending the Zambesi in 1855, butting it from beneath until the fore end stood out of water, and throwing one of the natives into the stream. By diving and holding on to the grass at the bottom, while the angry beast was looking for him on the surface, he escaped its vengeance and, the boat being fortunately close to the shore, the rest of the crew got off unharmed. The alligators of this part of the Zambesi are peculiarly rapacious and aggressive, and the chances are that anybody unlucky enough to fall into the river will find his way into the mouth of a watchful crocodile. Every year these ferocious reptiles carry off hundreds of human victims, chiefly women, while filling their water jars, or men whose canoes are accidently upset, and the inhabitants in their turn make a prey of the beast, being extremely fond of its flesh and eggs. The crocodile attacks by surprise. He lurks behind the bank of rushes, or lies in wait at the bottom of a pool, and dashes out as soon as he sees a human limb in the water. Sometimes, however, when hungry and where favorable opportunity occurs, he will haul his body ashore and waddle up the bank on his stumpy legs. If, while disporting himself on shore, his wicked green eyes fall on some likely victim in the stream, he will dash rapidly through the rushes, plunge into the river and make a bound for his prey. The young crocodiles show their vicious temper almost as soon as they are out of the shell, and one savage little wretch about two feet long made a snap at Dr. Livingstone’s legs, while walking along the side of a stream in the Zambesi region, that made the explorer jump aside with more agility than dignity.

Some distance below the junction of the Leeba, the Zambesi enters the valley of the Barotse. This is one of the most fertile, yet the most unhealthy, districts in the interior of Africa. It is stocked with great herds of domestic cattle of two varieties. One very tall with enormous horns, nearly nine feet between the tips, and the other a beautifully formed little white breed. The country could grow grain enough to support ten times the inhabitants it has at present. Like the lower valley of the Nile, the Barotse country is inundated every year, over its whole surface, by the waters of the river, which deposit a layer of fertilizing slime. The banks of the Zambesi, for some distance above and below this district, are high and cliffy, presenting ridge after ridge of fine rock and pleasing scenery, while the stream runs swiftly over its stony bed. For a hundred miles through the Barotse valley the stream has a deep and winding course and the hills withdraw to a distance of fifteen miles from either bank. To the foot of these hills the waters extend in flood time, and the valley becomes temporarily one of the lake regions of Central Africa.

At the lower end of the valley the rocky spurs again approach each other, and the river forces its way through a narrow defile in which, in flood time, the water rises to a height of sixty feet above its original level. Here are situated the Gonye Falls which are a serious impediment to the navigation of the Upper Zambesi. But there is no such danger or difficulty here for canoes as poor Stanley met with on the Congo. Practice has made the natives, living near the falls, experts in the work of transporting these canoes over the rocky ground and, as soon as a boat approaches the rapids from above or below, it is whisked without difficulty by a pair of sturdy arms to the quiet water beyond. Below the Gonye Falls, the water bounds and rolls and bounces from bank to bank and chafes over the boulders in an alarming manner, their breadth being contracted to a few hundred yards. But these swollen rapids might all be ascended, Livingstone thinks, when the river is full. After many leagues of this mad gamboling, the Zambesi settles down again for a hundred miles to sober flow, and opens out into a magnificent navigable river a mile or two from bank to bank.

Still more grand, however, are its dimensions after it receives a great deep, dark colored, slow flowing river, the Cuando, or Chobe, before mentioned. The Chobe empties through several mouths with winding channels fringed with beds of papyrus, the stems of which are plaited and woven together into an almost solid mass of vines, and by grass with keen, sharp, serrated edges, which cut like razors. Even the hippopotamus has no little ado in forcing a way through this forest, and less weighty personages have to walk humbly in his track. So wide is the Zambesi below the entrance of the Chobe, that even the practiced native eye cannot tell from the bank whether the land, dimly seen beyond, is an island or opposite shore, and the stream flows placidly past with no sign that it is almost within sight of a tremendous downfall.

The only traveller who has explored the upper waters of the Chobe is Major Serpa Pinto, on his recent journey from Benguela to Natal. But we shall learn more of his travels hereafter. It is, however, interesting now to note that he found a spot on this river also, where he could almost have placed his cap on the point of junction between streams draining toward the Atlantic, the Zambesi, the Indian Ocean, and the Kalihari Desert.

Livingstone has already made us familiar with Lake Ngami and the banks of the lower Cuando. These are the furthest outposts of equatorial moisture toward the south, just as Lake Chad and the White Nile mark its northern limits. Once, it is supposed——and indeed the fact seems beyond dispute——the Zambesi, and all its upper branches, flowed down into this southern basin and formed a goodly inland sea, until some great cataclysm happened, that diverted it and its waters toward the eastern coast, leaving the central lake to be dried up into the shallow Ngami, and the streams of this region to wander about haphazard and uncertain whether to keep in the old tracks or follow in the new direction.

The discovery of the Cuando River by Livingstone in 1849 demolished the theory of a burning desert occupying the interior of Africa from the Mediterranean to the Cape, and went far to prove, what has since been completely established, that the fabulous torrid zone of Africa, and its burning sands, is a well watered region, resembling North America in its mountains and lakes, and India in its hot humid plains, thick jungles, and cool highlands. We have already seen that the South African desert is not without vegetation, but its pride and glory are herds of big and small game——antelopes, gnues, zebras, ostriches, elands, gemsbocks, gazelles, various species of deer——that roam over its spacious plains. Great deeds of slaughter have been done with the rifle, and told over and over again in many a stirring book of African sport by Gunning, Anderson, and other Nimrods, who were among the first of the army of hunters who now annually go in search of hides, tusks, and horns, which every year become more difficult to obtain. The lion is practically the only animal of the cat tribe which they have to encounter, the tiger being unknown in Africa, and the leopard comparatively rare. The lion seem to be more at home in these salt deserts than in the rank forests further north, probably because he finds food more plentiful. Livingstone had no great opinion of this beast. He describes him as “about the size of a donkey and only brave at roaring,” even the talk of his majestic roar he regards as “majestic twaddle,” and he says he could never tell the voice of the lion from the voice of an ostrich, except from knowing that the quadruped made a noise by night and the bird by day. The lion would never dream of putting himself against a noble elephant, though he will tear an elephant calf if he finds one unprotected, and he would still less engage in a contest with the thick skinned rhinoceros. Even a buffalo is more than a match for the “King of Beasts.” Major Oswald once came across three lions who were having much trouble in pulling a mortally wounded buffalo to the ground.

Both the elephant and rhinoceros are hunted here by the natives with packs of dogs. The yelping curs completely bewilder their heavy game, and while he is paying attention to them and making attempts to kill them, the native creeps up and plants his bullet or poisoned spear in a vital spot. English sportsmen prefer to go out against the elephant on foot or on horseback or, as Anderson, upon the back of a trained ox. In former times as many as twenty have been killed on a single excursion. The chase of the huge animal, which attains a maximum height of twelve feet on the Zambesi, becomes really exciting and dangerous work, for the African variety, owing to the formation of its skull, cannot be brought down by a forehead shot like the Indian variety. The giraffe and ostrich are also hunted on horseback, and the plan adopted by hunters is to press them at a hard gallop from the first, which causes them to lose their wind and sometimes to drop dead from excitement. The ostrich, when at the top of his speed, has been known to run at the rate of thirty miles an hour, so that there is no hope of overtaking him in a direct chase, but the stupid bird often delivers itself into the hands of its pursuers by running in curves instead of speeding straight ahead.

The people of the Kalihari Desert are as characteristic of the soil and climate as its vegetable life and four-footed beasts. They are of two kinds, first Bushmen, who are true sons of the wilderness, wild men of the desert, who live by the chase. They are of diminutive stature and, like the dwarfs further north, are supposed to represent the real aborigines of Africa. The second are remnants of the Bechuana tribes. These have been driven into the desert by the pressure of stronger peoples behind. They are a people who cling to their original love for domestic animals, and watch their flocks of lean goats and meagre cattle with great care. On the edges of the desert are the Boers, emigrant Dutch farmers, who have fled from British rule in the Transvaal, as their fathers fled from Cape Colony and Natal. The coming of these always betokens trouble with the natives, and as gold miners and diamond diggers are penetrating into the Kalihari Desert, we may expect to see British authority close on their heels, and perhaps at no distant day fully established on the banks of the Zambesi, unless forsooth, some other nations should see fit to interfere.

In his trip to Loanda, Livingstone had been seeking an outlet to the Atlantic for the Makalolo people. On his return, they were dissatisfied with his route and preferred an outlet eastward toward the Indian Ocean. He therefore resolved to explore a path in this direction for them. With all his wants abundantly supplied by the friendly chief Sekelutu, he set out for this great journey and after a fortnight’s laborious travel reached the Zambesi at the mouth of the Chobe, in November 1855. Sailing down the Zambesi, Livingstone saw rising high into the air before him, at a distance of six miles, five pillars of vapor with dark smoky summits. The river was smooth and tranquil, and his boat glided placidly over water clear as crystal, past lovely islands, densely covered with tropical vegetation, and by high banks with red cliffs peering through their back-ground of palm trees. The traveller was not altogether unprepared for the marvels that lay ahead. Two hundred miles away he had heard of the fame of the great gorge Mozi-oa-Tunia——“the sounding smoke,” where the Zambesi mysteriously disappeared. As the falls were approached the pulse of the river seemed to quicken. It was still more than a mile wide, but it hurried over rapids, and chafed around points of rocks, and the most careful and skillful navigation was needed, lest the canoe should be dashed against a reef, or hurried helplessly down the chasm. The mystery in front became more inexplicable the nearer it was approached, for the great river seemed to disappear suddenly under ground, leaving its bed of hard black rock and well defined banks. By keeping the middle of the stream and cautiously paddling between the rocks, he reached a small island on the tip of the Victoria Falls——a spot where he planted some fruit trees, and for the only time on his travels carved his initials on a tree in remembrance of his visit.

It could not be seen what became of the vast body of water, until the explorer had crept up the dizzy edge of the chasm from below, and peeped over into the dark gulf. The river, more than a mile in width, precipitated itself sheer down into a rent extending at right angles across its bed. The walls of the precipice were as cleanly cut as if done by a knife, and no projecting crag broke the sheet of falling waters. Four rocks, or rather small islands, on the edge of the falls divide them into five separate cascades, and in front of each fall rises one of the tall pillars of smoke which are visible in time of flood at a distance of ten miles. Only at low water can the island on which Livingstone stood be approached, for when the river is high any attempt to reach it would result in a plunge into the abyss below. Against the black wall of the precipice opposite the falls two, three, and sometimes four rainbows, each forming three fourths of an arc, are painted on the ascending clouds of spray, which continually rush up from the depths below. A fine rain is constantly falling from these clouds, and the cliffs are covered with dense, dripping vegetation. But the great sight is the cataract itself. The rent in the rocks seems to be of comparatively recent formation, for their edges are worn back only about three feet.

Since Livingstone’s first visit, the falls have been more minutely examined by other explorers, so that we now know more accurately their dimensions and leading features. The breadth of the river at the falls has been ascertained to be over 1860 yards, and the depth of the precipice below the island 360 feet, or twice that of Niagara. At the bottom of the rent, all the waters that have come over the falls rush together in the centre of the gulf immediately beneath the island where, confined in a space of twenty or thirty yards, they form a fearful boiling whirlpool. From this a stream flows through the narrow channel at right angles to the course above and, turning a sharp corner, emerges into another chasm parallel with the first; then through another confined gap to a third chasm; and so backward and forward in wild confusion through forty miles of hills, until it breaks out into the level country of the lower Zambesi. The rush of the river through this inaccessible ravine is not so turbulent as might be imagined from its being pent in between walls less than forty yards apart. It pushes its way with a crushing, grinding motion, sweeping around the sharp corners with a swift resistless ease that indicates plainly a great depth of water. It was through this gap, caused by some unrecorded convulsion of the earth, that the great lake which must have at one time occupied South Central Africa, has been drained, and it forms undoubtedly the most wonderful natural feature in Africa, if not in the world.

At the great falls of the Zambesi, named the Victoria Falls in honor of the Queen of England, we are still a thousand miles from the sea, and hundreds of miles from the first traces of civilization, such as appear in the Portuguese possessions of eastern Africa.

Nature has been exceedingly lavish of her gifts in the Lower Zambesi Valley, giving it a fertile soil, a splendid system of river communication, and great stores of mineral and vegetable wealth, everything indeed, that is necessary to make a prosperous country, except a healthy climate, and industrious population. Here as upon the borders of the Nile, war and slave hunting have cursed the country with an apparently hopeless blight. Around the falls themselves are the scenes of some of the most noteworthy events in Central African warfare. The history of what are called the “Charka Wars,” has not yet and never will be written, nevertheless they extended over as great an area and shook as many thrones and dominions as those of Bonaparte himself. Charka was a chief of the now familiar Zulu tribe, and grandfather of that celebrated Cetywayo, whose ill-starred struggle with the English cost him his country and his liberty, and whom we read of the other day as a royal captive in the streets of London. It is said that he had heard of the feats of the first Napoleon, and was smitten with a desire to imitate his deeds. He formed his tribes into regiments, and these became the famous Zulu bands which immediately began to make war on all their neighbors. Conquered armies were incorporated into the Zulu army, and Charka went on making conquests in Natal, Caffaria, and Southern Africa, leaving the lands waste and empty. He spread the fame of the Zulus far into the possessions of the English and Portuguese.

Turning north, he occupied the country as far as the Zambesi. Crossing this stream, he moved into the regions between the Lakes Nyassa and Tanganyika, then he carried his power to the westward as far as the Victoria Falls, where he was met by the Makalolos, with whom Livingstone has just made us familiar. In this people, under their chief, Sebituane, he found an enemy worthy of his steel. This tribe could not be conquered so long as their chief lived, but at his death their kingdom began to go to pieces under Sekelutu, though he was not less brave and intelligent than his father. It was over the smouldering embers of these wars that Livingstone had to pass in his descent of the Zambesi.

As he descended the Zambesi and approached the Indian Ocean, the stream gathered breadth and volume from great tributaries which flow into it on either side. The Kafue, hardly smaller than the Zambesi itself, comes into it from the north. Its course has still to be traced and its source has yet to be visited. Further down, the Loangwa, also a mighty river, enters it, and its banks, like those of the Kafue, are thickly populated, and rich in mineral treasures. The great Zambesi sweeps majestically on from one reach of rich tropical scenery to another. On its shores are seen the villages of native fisherman. Their huts and clearings for cotton and tobacco are girded about by dense jungles of bamboo, back of which rise forests of palm. Behind the forests the grand hills slope up steeply, diversified with clumps of timber and fringed with trees to their summits. Behind, extend undulated plains of long grass to the base of a second range of hills, the outer bank of the Zambesi Valley. Now and then, on either bank, a river valley opens, whose sides are thickly overgrown with jungle, above which rise the feathery tops of the palms and the stately stems of the tamarind; on their margins, or on the slopes above, herds of buffaloes, zebras, roebucks and wild pigs may be seen peacefully grazing together, with occasionally a troop of elephants or a solitary rhinoceros. Dr. Livingstone says, nowhere in all his travels has he seen such an abundance of animal life as in this portion of the Zambesi.

Yet it is possible even here to be alone. The high walls of grass on either side of the jungle path seem to the traveller to be the boundaries of the world. At times a strange stillness pervades the air, and no sound is heard from bird or beast or living thing. In the midst of this stillness, interruptions come like surprises and sometimes in not a very pleasant form. Once while Dr. Livingstone was walking in a reverie, he was startled by a female rhinoceros, followed by her calf, coming thundering down along the narrow path, and he had barely time to jump into a thicket in order to escape its charge. Occasionally a panic stricken herd of buffaloes will make a rush through the centre of the line of porters and donkeys, scattering them in wild confusion into the bush and tossing perhaps the nearest man and animal into the air. Neither the buffalo nor any other wild animal, however, will attack a human being except when driven to an extremity. The lion or leopard, when watching for their prey, will perhaps spring on the man who passes by. The buffalo, if it thinks it is being surrounded, will make a mad charge to escape, or the elephant, if wounded and brought to bay, or in defense of its young, will turn on its pursuers. A “rogue” elephant or buffalo, who has been turned out of the herd by his fellows for some fault or blemish, and has become cross and ill-natured by his solitary life, has been known to make an unprovoked attack on the first creature, man or beast, that presents itself to his sight. Thus, one savage “rogue” buffalo, furiously charged a native of Livingstone’s party, in the ascent of the Zambesi in 1860, and the man had barely time to escape into a tree when the huge head of the beast came crashing against the trunk with a shock fit to crack both skull and tree. Backing again, he came with another rush, and thus continued to beat the tree until seven shots were fired into him.

But as a rule, every untamed creature flees in terror on sighting red-handed man.

The only real obstacle to a descent of the Zambesi by steamer between Victoria Falls and the sea, is what are called Kebrabesa Rapids, and even the navigation of these is believed to be possible in time of flood, when the rocky bed is smoothed over by deep water. In the ordinary state of the river these rapids cannot be passed, although the inhuman experiment has been tried of fastening slaves to a canoe and flinging them into the river above the rapids. Dr. Kirk had here an accident which nearly cost him his life. The canoe in which he was seated was caught in one of the many whirlpools formed by the cataract, and driven broadside toward the vortex. Suddenly a great upward boiling of the water, here nearly one hundred feet deep, caught the frail craft, and dashed it against a ledge of rock, which the doctor was fortunately able to grasp, and thus save himself, though he lost all his scientific instruments. When Livingstone’s boat, which was immediately behind the doctor’s reached the spot, the yawning cavity of the whirlpool had momentarily closed up and he passed over it in safety. All along the line of the Lower Zambesi we find traces of Portuguese colonies, and also of the slave trade. Nowhere in all Africa has this traffic been more flourishing or ruinous in its effects, than in the colony of Mozambique. Here too, Livingstone was the champion who, almost single handed, marched out and gave battle to this many headed monster. Like Baker in the north, he inflicted upon it what we must hope is a fatal wound. As with the Egyptian authorities in the north, so the Portuguese authorities in the south, seem to have been actively concerned with the slave dealers. They not only connived at it, but profited by it. At one time, before slave trading became a business, European influence and Christian civilization under the auspices of the Jesuit missionaries extended far into the interior. At the confluence of the Loangwa and Zambesi is still to be seen a ruined church of one of the furthest outposts of the Jesuit fathers, its bell half buried in the rank weeds. The spot is the scene of desolation now. Livingstone bears generous testimony to the zeal, piety and self abnegation of these Jesuit priests. Their plans and labors hindered the slave-gatherers’ success, and it became necessary to get rid of them by calumny and often worse weapons. With the failure of their mission perished all true progress and discovery, and when Livingstone visited the Portuguese colonies on the Zambesi, he found complete ignorance of the existence of the Victoria Falls and only vague rumors of the existence of Lake Nyassa from which the Shiré, the last of the great affluents of the Zambesi, was supposed to flow.

Only ninety miles from the mouth of the great Zambesi, empties the Shiré from the north. It is a strong, deep river, and twenty years ago was unknown. It is navigable half way up, when it is broken by cataracts which descend 1200 feet in thirty-five miles. If this river is always bounded by sedgy banks, magnificent mountains are always in view on either side. No vegetation could be richer than that found in its valley, and its cotton is equal to our own Sea Island. The natives have both the skill and the inclination to work. It is not a healthy region along the river, for often the swamps are impenetrable to the base of the mountains. Animal life abounds in all tropical forms. The glory of the marshes is their hippopotami and elephants. Livingstone, in 1859, counted 800 of these animals in sight at once. But they have been greatly thinned out by hunters.

From the cataracts of the Shiré, Livingstone made several searches for lakes spoken of by the natives. He found Lake Shirwa amid magnificent mountain scenery. But the great feature of the valley is Lake Nyassa, the headwaters of the stream. It was discovered by Livingstone, September 16, 1859. It is 300 miles long and 60 wide. It resembles Albert Nyanza and Tanganyika, with which it was formerly supposed to be connected. Its shores are overhung by tall mountains, down which cascades plunge into the lake. But once on the tops of these mountains, there is no precipitous decline; only high table land stretching off in all directions. The inhabitants are the wildest kind of Zulus, who carry formidable weapons and paint their bodies in fiendish devices. They are the victims of the slave traders to an extent which would shock even the cruel Arab brigands of the White Nile.

Lake Nyassa is a “Lake of Storms.” Clouds are often seen approaching on its surface, which turn out to be composed of “Kungo” flies, which are gathered and eaten by the natives. The ladies all wear lip rings. Some of the women have fine Jewish or Assyrian features, and are quite handsome. The fine Alpine country north of Nyassa has not been explored, except slightly by Elton and Thompson, who found it full of elephants, and one of the grandest regions in the world for sublime mountain heights, deep and fertile valleys, and picturesque scenery. The mountains rise to a height of 12,000 to 14,000 feet, and are snow capped.

In the valley of the Shiré lie the bones of many an African explorer. Bishop Mackensie is buried in its swamps. Thornton found a grave at the foot of its cataracts. A few miles below its mouth, beneath a giant baobab tree repose the remains of Mrs. Livingstone, and near her is the resting place of Kirkpatrick, of the Zambesi Survey of 1826.

Yet the thirst for discovery in the Zambesi country has not abated. Nor will it till Nyassa, Tanganyika, and even Victoria and Albert Nyanza, are approachable, for there can be no doubt that the Zambesi is an easier natural inlet to the heart of Africa than either the Nile or Congo.

No account of the Zambesi can be perfect without mention of Pinto’s trip across the continent of Africa. He started from Benguela, on the Atlantic, in 1877, under the auspices of the Portuguese Government and in two years reached the eastern coast. He was a careful observer of the people, and his journey was through the countries of the Nano, Huambo, Sambo, Moma, Bihé, Cubango, Ganguelas, Luchazes and others till he struck the Zambesi River. His observations of manners and customs are very valuable to the student and curious to the general reader. His work abounds in types of African character, and in descriptions of that art of dressing hair which Christian ladies are ever willing to copy but in which they cannot excel their dusky sisters. It takes sometimes two or three days to build up, for African ladies, their triumphs of barbers’ art, but they last for as many months. The Huambo people, male and female, enrich their hair with coral beads in a way that sets it off with much effect. The Sambo women, though not so pretty in the face, affect a louder style of head dress, and one which may pass as more artistic. But Pinto was prepared to wonder how human hair could ever be gotten into the various artistic shapes found on the heads of the Ganguela women. Their skill and patience in braiding seemed to be without limit. The Bihé head dress was more flaunting but not a whit less becoming. Indeed there seemed in all the tribes to be a special adaptation of their art to form and features, but whether it was the result of study or accident, Pinto could not of course tell, being a man and not up in ladies’ toilets. The Quimbande girls wore their hair comparatively straight, but their heads were covered with cowries bespangled with coral beads. The Cabango women have a happy knack of thatching their heads with their hair in such a way as to give the impression that you are looking on an excellent job of Holland tiling, or on the over-lapping scales of a fish.

The Luchaze women evidently take their models from the grass covers of their huts. They make a closely woven mat of their hair which has the appearance of fitting the scalp like a cap. The Ambuella head dress is as neatly artistic as any modern lady could desire. Indeed there is nothing in civilized countries to approach it in its combination of beauty and adaption for the purposes intended.

Pinto’s journey across Africa was one of comparative leisure. He was well equipped, and was scarcely outside of a tribe that had not heard of Portuguese authority, which extends inland a great ways from both the east and west sides of the Continent. He did not however escape the ordinary hardships of African travel, even if he had time to observe and make record of many things which escaped the eye of other explorers.

The high carnival, or annual festival, of the Sova Mavanda was a revelation to him. He had seen state feasts and war dances, but in this the dancing was conducted with a regularity seldom witnessed on the stage, and the centre of attraction was the Sova chief, masked after the fashion of a harlequin, and seemingly as much a part of the performance as a clown in a circus ring.

The rivers of this part of Africa are a prominent obstacle in a traveller’s path. Even where they are bordered by wide, sedgy swamps, there is in the centre a deep channel, and nearly always an absence of canoes. But the natives are quick to find out fording places which are generally where the waters run swiftly over sand-bars. Pinto’s passage of the Cuchibi was affected at a fording where the bar was very narrow, the water on either side 10 to 12 feet deep, and the current running at the rate of 65 yards a minute. It was a difficult task, but was completed in less than two hours by his whole party, and without accident.

After striking the tributaries of the Zambesi, he followed them to their junction with the main stream in the very heart of Africa. Then he descended the Zambesi in canoes to the mouth of the Cuango, or Chobe, in the country of the Makalolos. He passed by the Gonye Falls, and down through the Lusso Rapids, where safety depends entirely on the skill of the native canoemen. After passing these rapids, which occupy miles of the river’s length, he came into the magnificent Barotze region where the river waters a finer plain than the Nile in any of its parts. But Livingstone has already made us familiar with the Zambesi throughout all these parts. Yet it is due to Pinto to say he made, with the instruments at his command, more careful observations of the great Victoria Falls (Mozi-oa-tunia) than any previous explorer, especially from below. He could not get a height of over 246 feet, owing to the difficulty of seeing to the bottom of the gorge, and found the verge broken into three sections, one of a width of 1312 feet, another of 132 feet, and the remainder a saw-like edge over which the waters poured smoothly only when the stream was full.

“These falls,” says Pinto, “can be neither properly depicted nor described. The pencil and the pen are alike at fault, and in fact, save at their western extremity, the whole are enveloped in a cloud of vapor which, perhaps fortunately, hides half the awfulness of the scene. It is not possible to survey this wonder of nature without a feeling of terror and of sadness creeping over the mind. Up at the Gonye Falls everything is smiling and beautiful, here at Mozi-oa-tunia everything is frowning, and awful.”

Pinto’s journey was now southward across the great Kalihari Desert, and thence to the eastern coast. We must go with him to the centre of this desert, for he unravels a secret there in the shape of “The Great Salt Pan.”

We remember Livingstone’s discovery of Lake Ngami, into which and out of which pours the Cubango river, to be afterwards lost in the central Salt Pan of the desert. Pinto discovered that this “Salt Pan” received, in the rainy season, many other large tributaries, and then became an immense lake, or rather system of pans or lakes, ten to fifteen feet deep and from 50 to 150 miles long. This vast system, he says, communicates with Lake Ngami by means of the Cubango, or Zonga River, on nearly the same level. If Ngami rises by means of its inflow, the current is down the Cubango toward the “Salt Pans.” If however the “Pans” overflow, by means of their other tributaries, the current is up the Cubango toward Lake Ngami. So that among the other natural wonders of Africa we have not only a system of great rivers pouring themselves into an inland sea with no outlet except the clouds, but also a great river actually flowing two ways for a distance of over a hundred miles, as the one or the other lake on its course happens to be fullest.

THE CONGO.

Lake Tanganyika had been known to the Arab slave hunters of the east coast of Africa long before the white man gazed upon its bright blue waters. These cunning, cruel people had good reasons for guarding well the secret of its existence. Yet popular report of it gave it many an imaginary location and dimension. What is remarkable about it is that since it has been discovered and located, it has taken various lengths and shapes under the eye of different observers, and though it has been circumnavigated, throughout its 1200 miles of coast, no one can yet be quite positive whether it has an outlet or not.

It is 600 miles inland from Zanzibar, or the east coast of Africa, and almost in the centre of that wonderful basin whose reservoirs contribute to the Nile, Zambesi and Congo. The route from Zanzibar half way to the lake is a usual one, and we need not describe it. The balance of the way, through the Ugogo and Unyamwezi countries, is surrounded by the richest African verdure and diversified by running streams and granitic slopes, with occasional crags. At length the mountain ranges which surround the lake are reached, and when crossed there appear on the eastern shore the thatched houses of Ujiji, the rendezvous of all expeditions, scientific, commercial and missionary, that have ever reached these mysterious waters.

Burton and Speke were the white discoverers of Tanganyika. It seemed to them the revelation of a new world——a sight to make men hold their breath with a rush of new thoughts, as when Bilboa and his men stood silent on that peak in Darien and gazed upon the Pacific Ocean.

Fifteen years later Cameron struck it and could not believe that the vast grey expanse was aught else than clouds on the distant mountains of Ugoma, till closer observation proved the contrary.

Livingstone struck it from the west side. It was on his last journey through Africa, he had entered upon that journey at Zanzibar, in April 1866, and made for Lake Nyassa and its outlet the Shiré River, both of which have been described in connection with the Zambesi.

Then began that almost interminable ramble to which he fell a victim. He was full of the theory that no traveller had yet seen the true head waters of the Nile——in other words that neither Victoria nor Albert Nyanza were its ultimate reservoirs, but that they were to be found far below the equator in that bewildering “Lake Region” which never failed to reveal wonderful secrets to such as sought with a patience and persistency like his own.

He was supported in this by the myths of the oldest historians, by the earliest guesses which took the shape of maps, by the traditions of the natives that boats had actually passed from Albert Nyanza into Tanganyika, but above all by the delusion that the great river Lualaba, which he afterwards found flowing northward from lakes far to the south of Tanganyika, could not be other than the Nile itself.

On his way westward from Lake Nyassa, he came upon the Loangwa River, a large affluent of the Zambesi from the north. Crossing this, and bearing northwest, he confronted the Lokinga Mountains, from whose crests he looked down into the valley of the Chambesi. It was clear that these mountains formed a shed which divided the waters of the central basin, or lake region, of Africa from those which ran south into the Zambesi. Had he discovered the true sources of the Nile at last? Where did those waters go to, if not to the Mediterranean? The journal of his last travels is full of soliloquies and refrains touching the glory of a discovery which should vindicate his theory and set discussion at rest.

And what was he really looking down upon from that mountain height? The Chambesi——affluent of Lake Bangweola? Yes. But vastly more. He was looking on the head waters of the northward running Lualaba, which proved his ignis fatuus and led him a six year dance through the wilderness and to his grave. The Lualaba has been christened Livingstone River, in honor of the great explorer. Then again it was only the Lualaba in name, which he was pursuing, with the hope that it would turn out to be the Nile. It was really the great Congo, for after the Lualaba runs northeast toward Albert Nyanza, and to a point far above the equator, it makes a magnificent sweep westward, and southwestward, and seeks the Atlantic at a point not ten degrees above the latitude of its source.

Thus was Livingstone perpetually deceived. But for all that we must ever admire his enthusiasm for research and his heroism under extreme difficulties. When he plunged down the mountain side into the depths of the forests that lined the Chambesi, it was to enter a night of wandering which had no star except the meeting of Stanley at Ujiji in 1871, and no morning at all. What a story of heroic adventure lies in those years!

Ere his death, his followers had deserted him, carrying back to the coast lying stories of his having been murdered. Trusted servants ran away with his medicine chest, leaving him no means of fighting the deadly diseases which from that hour began to break down his strength. The country ahead had been wasted and almost emptied of inhabitants by the slave-traders. Hunger and thirst were the daily companions of his march. Constant exposure to wet brought on rheumatism and ague; painful ulcers broke out in his feet; pneumonia, dysentery, cholera, miasmatic fever, attacked him by turns; but still, so long as his strength was not utterly prostrated, the daily march had to be accomplished. Still more trying than the fatigue were the vexatious delays, extending sometimes over many months, caused by wars, epidemics, or inundation, that frequently compelled him to retrace his steps when apparently on the verge of some great discovery. Often, in order to make progress, he had no alternative but to attach his party to some Arab expedition which, under pretence of ivory-trading, had come out to plunder, to kidnap, and to murder. The terrible scenes of misery and slaughter of which he was thus compelled to be the witness, had perhaps a stronger and more depressing effect on his mind than all the other trials that fell to his lot. “I am heart-broken and sick of the sight of human blood,” he writes, as he turns, baffled, weary, and broken in health from one line of promising exploration to another.

He has left us only rough jottings of this story of wild adventure and strange discovery. For weeks at a time no entries are found in his journal. The hand that should have written them was palsied with fever, the busy brain stunned into unconsciousness, and the tortured body borne by faithful attendants through novel scenes on which the eager explorer could no longer open his eyes. His letters were stolen by Arabs——both those going to and coming from him. Yet his disjointed notes, written on scraps of old newspapers with ink manufactured by himself out of the seeds of native plants, tell a more affecting tale of valuable discovery than many a carefully written narrative.

He gives us glimpses into the Chambesi jungles, whose population has been almost swept away by the slave dealers. Fires sweep over the virgin lands in the dry season. A single year restores to them their wonted verdure. Song birds relieve the stillness of the African forests, but those of gayest plumage are silent. The habits of bees, ants, beetles and spiders are noted, and of the ants, found in all parts of Africa, those in these central regions build the most palatial structures. The most ferocious enemy of the explorer is not the portentous weapon of lion’s claw, rhinoceros’ horn, or elephant’s tusk, but a small fly——the notorious tsetse, whose bite is death to baggage animals, whose swarms have brought ruin to many a promising expedition, and whose presence is a more effectual barrier to the progress of civilization than an army of a million natives.

Then he is full of quaint observations on the lion, for which he had little respect, and on the more lordly elephant and rhinoceros. A glade suddenly opens where a group of shaggy buffaloes are grazing, or a herd of startled giraffes scamper away through the foliage with their long necks looking like “locomotive obelisks.” Then comes a description of a hippopotamus hunt——“the bravest thing I ever saw.”

Again the night is often made hideous by the shrieks of the soko——probably the gorilla of Du Chaillu, and of which Cameron heard on Tanganyika and Stanley on the Lualaba. But only Livingstone has given us authentic particulars of it. Its home is among the trees, but it can run on the ground with considerable speed, using its long fore-arms as crutches, and “hitching” itself along on its knuckles. In some respects it behaves quite humanly. It makes a rough bed at night among the trees, and will draw a spear from its body and staunch the wound with grass. It is a pot-bellied, wrinkled-faced, human-featured animal with incipient whiskers and beard. It will not attack an unarmed man or woman but will spring on a man armed with a spear or stick. In attack it will seize the intruder in its powerful arms, get his hand into its mouth, and one by one bite off his fingers and spit them out. It has been known to kidnap babies, and carry them up into the trees, but this seems to be more out of sport than mischief. In his family relations the male soko is a model of affection——assisting the mother to carry her young and attending strictly to the proprieties of soko society. A young soko which was in the doctor’s possession had many intelligent and winning ways, showed great affection and gratitude, was careful in making its bed and tucking itself in every night, and scrupulously wiped its nose with leaves. In short, it must be allowed, that the native verdict, that the “soko has good in him,” is borne out by the known facts, and that in some respects he compares not unfavorably, both in character and manners, with some of the men we make acquaintance with in our wanderings through Africa.

It was in April 1867, one year after his start from Zanzibar, that Livingstone crossed the Chambesi, and soon afterwards found himself on the mountains overlooking Lake Liemba, which proved to be none other than the southern point of our old friend Lake Tanganyika. Thence he zigzagged westward over sponge covered earth till he struck Lake Moero, with a stream flowing into its southern end——really the Lualaba, on its way from Lake Bangweola——and out at its northern——again the Lualaba——into other lakes which the natives spoke of. Now, more than ever before, he was persuaded that he was on the headwaters of the Nile, and he would have followed his river up only to surprise himself by coming out into the Atlantic through the mouth of the great Congo, if it had not been for native wars ahead.

Then he put back to examine a great lake of this river system, which the natives said existed south of Lake Moero. After a tramp of weeks through wet and dry, he found himself on the marshy banks of Lake Bangweola. Close by where he struck it, was its outlet, the Lualaba, here known as Luapula. It is a vast reservoir, 200 miles long by 130 broad, and has no picturesque surroundings, but is interspersed with many beautiful islands.

Confident now that he had the true source of the Nile——for the water-shed to the south told him that every thing below it ran into the Zambesi——nothing remained but for him to return to where he had left off his survey of the Lualaba, far to the north, and to follow that stream till he proved the truth of his theory. In going thither he would take in Lake Tanganyika. It was a terrible journey. For sixteen days he was carried in a litter under a burning sun, through marshy hollows and over rough hills. Sight of Tanganyika revived his drooping spirits, but he feared he must die before reaching Ujiji. It was March 1869, before he reached the coveted resting place, but he found awaiting him no aid, no medicines, no letters. He had been dead to the world for three long years. King Mirambo was off on the war-path against the Arabs, and Livingstone had to wait, undergoing slow recovery for many months.

At length, following in the trail of Arab slave dealers who had never before penetrated so far westward of the lake, and frequent witness of their barbarities, he reached a point on the Lualaba as far north as Nyangwe, where the river already began to take the features of cliff and cañon which Stanley found to belong to the lower Congo, and where the natives showed the prevalence of those caste ideas which prevail on the western coast but are unknown on the eastern. The region was also one of gigantic woods, into which the sun’s rays never penetrated, and beneath which were pools of water which never dried up. The river flats were a mass of luxuriant jungle, abounding in animal life. Livingstone was greatly annoyed at one of his halting places by the depredations of leopards on his little flock of goats. A snare gun was set for the offenders. It was heard to go off one night, and his attendants rushed to the scene with their lances. The prize had been struck and both its hind legs were broken. It was thought safe to approach it, but when one of the party did so, the stricken beast sprang upon the man’s shoulder and tore him fearfully before being killed. He was a huge male and measured six feet eight inches from nose to tail.

Nyangwe, the furthest point of his journey up, or rather down, the Lualaba, or Congo, is in the country of the Manyuema, the finest race Livingstone had seen in Africa. The females are beautiful in feature and form. The country is thickly peopled, and they have made considerable progress in agriculture and the arts. Villages appear at intervals of every two or three miles. The houses are neatly built, with red painted walls, thatched roofs, and high doorways. The inhabitants are clever smiths, weavers and tanners, and all around are banana groves and fields tilled in maize, potatoes and tapioca. The chiefs are important personages, who exercise arbitrary authority and dress regally. Livingstone suspected they practised cannibalism, but could not prove it. Stanley noticed a row of 180 skulls decorating one of their village streets. He was told they were soko skulls, but carrying two away, he presented them to Prof. Huxley, who pronounced them negro craniums of the usual type.

One of their great institutions is the market, held in certain villages on stated days. People come to these from great distances to exchange their fish, goats, ivory, oil, pottery, skins, cloth, ironware, fruit, vegetables, salt, grain, fowls, and even slaves. There is a great variety of costume, loud crying of wares, much bargaining and no inconsiderable hilarity. The market at Nyangwe is held every four days, and the assemblage numbers as many as 3000 people. Even in war times market people are allowed to go to and fro without molestation.

The Arab slave traders are fast demoralizing these people. They set the different tribes to fighting and then step in and carry off multitudes of slaves. One fine market day these miscreants suddenly appeared among the throng of unsuspecting people and began an indiscriminate firing. They fled in all directions, many jumping into the river. The sole object of the slave stealers was to strike terror into the hearts of the inhabitants by showing the power of a gun. Livingstone witnessed this unprovoked massacre and thought that five hundred innocent lives were lost in it.

He found the Lualaba a full mile wide at Nyangwe, and still believed it to be the Nile. In this firm belief he ceased to follow the stream further and turned his weary feet back to Ujiji on Tanganyika. It will always be a mystery how Livingstone could have nursed his delusion that he was on the Nile, for so long a time. The moment Cameron set his eyes on the Lualaba, he saw that it could not be the Nile, for its volume of water was many times larger than that of the Nile, and moreover its level was many hundred feet lower than the White Nile at Gondokoro. And though Stanley had the profoundest respect for the views of the great explorer, he hardly doubted that in descending the Lualaba he would emerge into the Atlantic through the mouth of the great Congo.

Now while Livingstone is struggling foot-sore, sick, dejected, almost deserted, back to Ujiji on the Lake Tanganyika, for rest, for medicine, for news from home, after he has been lost for five long years, and after repeated rumors of his death had been sent from Zanzibar to England, what is taking place in the outside world?

On October 16, 1869, Henry M. Stanley, a correspondent of the New York Herald, was at Madrid in Spain. On that date he received a dispatch from James Gordon Bennett, owner of the Herald, dated Paris. It read, “Come to Paris on important business.”

With an American correspondent’s instinct and promptitude, Mr. Stanley knocked at Mr. Bennett’s door on the next night.

“Who are you?” asked Bennett.

“Stanley,” was the reply.

“Yes; sit down. Where do you think Livingstone is?”

“I do not know sir.”

“Well, I think he is alive and can be found. I am going to send you to find him.”

“What! Do you really think I can find Livingstone? Do you mean to send me to Central Africa?”

“Yes, I mean you shall find him wherever he is. Get what news you can of him. And, may be he is in want. Take enough with you to help him. Act according to your own plans. But——find Livingstone.”

By January, 1871, Stanley was at Zanzibar. He hired an escort, provided himself with a couple of boats, and in 236 days, after an adventurous journey, was at Ujiji on Tanganyika.

It was November, 1871. For weary months two heroes had been struggling in opposite directions in the African wilds——Livingstone eastward from Nyangwe on the Lualaba, to find succor at Ujiji on Tanganyika Lake, Stanley westward from Zanzibar to carry that succor and greetings, should the great explorer be still alive.

Providence had a hand in the meeting. Livingstone reached Ujiji just before Stanley. On November 2, Stanley, while pushing his way up the slopes which surrounded Tanganyika met a caravan. He asked the news, and was thrilled to find that a white man had just reached Ujiji, from the Manyuema.

“A white man?”

“Yes, a white man.”

“How is he dressed?”

“Like you.”

“Young, or old?” “Old; white hair, and sick.”

“Was he ever there before?”

“Yes; a long time ago.”

“Hurrah!” shouted Stanley, “it is Livingstone. March quickly my men. He may go away again!”

They pressed up the slopes and in a few days were in sight of Tanganyika. The looked for hour was at hand.

“Unfurl your flags and load your guns!” he cried to his companions.

“We will, master, we will!”

“One, two, three——fire!”

A volley from fifty guns echoed along the hills. Ujiji was awakened. A caravan was coming, and the streets were thronged to greet it. The American flag was at first a mystery, but the crowd pressed round the new comers. Stanley pushed his way eagerly, all eyes about him.

“Good morning, sir!”

“Who are you?” he startlingly inquired.

“Susi; Dr. Livingstone’s servant.”

“Is Livingstone here?”

“Sure, sir; sure. I have just left him.”

“Run, Susi; and tell the Doctor I am coming.”

Susi obeyed. Every minute the crowd was getting denser. At length Susi came breaking through to ask the stranger’s name. The doctor could not understand it all, and had sent to find out, but at the same time in obedience to his curiosity, had come upon the street.

Stanley saw him and hastened to where he was.

“Dr. Livingstone, I presume.”

“Yes,” said he with a cordial smile, lifting his hat.

They grasped each other’s hands. “Thank God!” said Stanley, “I have been permitted to see you!”

“Thankful I am that I am here to welcome you,” was the doctor’s reply.

They turned toward the house, and remained long together, telling each other of their adventures; hearing and receiving news. At length Stanley delivered his batch of letters from home to the doctor, and he retired to read them.

Then came a long and happy rest for both the explorers. Livingstone improved in health and spirits daily. His old enthusiasm was restored and he would be on his travels again. But he was entirely out of cloth and trinkets, was reduced to a retinue of five men, and had no money to hire more.

One day Stanley said, “have you seen the north of Tanganyika yet?”

“No; I tried to get there, but could not. I have no doubt that Tanganyika as we see it here is really the Upper Tanganyika, that the Albert Nyanza of Baker is the Lower Tanganyika, and that they are connected by a river.”

Poor fellow! Did ever mortal man cling so to a delusion, put such faith in native stories and old traditions.

Stanley proposed to lend his assistance to the doctor, to settle the question of Tanganyika’s northern outlet. The doctor consented; and now began a journey, which was wholly unlike the doctor’s five year tramp. He was in a boat and had a congenial and enthusiastic companion.

Tanganyika, like the Albert Nyanza which pours a Nile flood, and Nyassa which flows through the Shiré into the Zambesi, is an immense trough sunk far below the table-land which occupies the whole of Central Africa. Its surrounding mountains are high. Its length is nearly 500 miles, its waters deep, clear and brackish. Whither does it send its surplus waters?

We have seen that Livingstone was sure it emptied through the Nile. This was what he and Stanley were to prove. In November 1871, three weeks after the two had so providentially met at Ujiji, they were on their voyage in two canoes. They coasted till they came to what Burton and Speke supposed to be the end of the lake, which turned out to be a huge promontory. Beyond this the lake widens and stretches for sixty miles further, overhung with mountains 7000 feet high. At length they reached the northern extremity where they had been assured by the natives that the waters flowed through an outlet. No outlet there. On the contrary seven broad inlets puncturing the reeds, through which the Rusizi River poured its volume of muddy water into the lake, from the north. Here was disappointment, yet a revelation. No Nile source in Tanganyika——at least not where it was expected to be found. Its outlet must be sought for elsewhere. Some thought it might connect eastward with Nyassa. But what of the great water-shed between the two lakes? Others thought it might have its outpour this way and that. Livingstone, puzzled beyond propriety, thought it might have an underground outlet into the Lualaba, and even went so far as to repeat a native story in support of his notion, that at a point in the Ugoma mountains the roaring of an underground river could be heard for miles.

Nothing that Livingstone and Stanley did, helped to solve the mystery of an outlet, except their discovery of the Rusizi, at the north, which was an inlet. After a three weeks cruise they returned to Ujiji, whence Stanley started back for Zanzibar, accompanied part way by Livingstone. After many days’ journey they came to Unyanyembe where they parted forever, Stanley to hasten to Zanzibar and Livingstone to return to the wilds to settle finally the Nile secret. Stanley protested, owing to the doctor’s physical condition. But the enthusiasm of travel and research was upon him to the extent that he would not hear.

Stanley had left ample supplies at Unyanyembe. These he divided with the doctor, so that he was well off in this respect. He further promised to hire a band of porters for him at Zanzibar and send them to him in the interior. They parted on March 13, 1872.

“God guide you home safe, and bless you, my friend,” were the doctor’s words.

“And may God bring you safe back to us all, my dear friend! Farewell!”

“Farewell!”

This was the last word Doctor Livingstone ever spoke to a white man. They wrung each other’s hands. Stanley was overcome, and turned away. He cried to his men, “Forward March!” and the sad scene closed.

Livingstone waited at Unyanyembe for the escort Stanley had promised to send. They came by August, and on the 14 of the month (1872) he started for the southern point of Tanganyika, which he rounded, to find no outlet there. Then he struck for Lake Bangweolo, intending to solve all its river mysteries. That lake was to him an ultimate reservoir for all waters flowing north, and if the Lualaba should prove to be the Nile, then he felt he had its true source.

This journey was a horrible one in every respect. It rained almost incessantly. The path was miry and amid dripping grass and cane. The country was flat and the rivers all swollen. It was impossible to tell river from marsh. The country was not inhabited. Food grew scarce. The doctor became so weak that he had to be carried across the rivers on the back of his trusty servant Susi. One stream, crossed on January 24, 1873, was 2000 feet wide and so deep that the waters reached Susi’s mouth, and the doctor got as wet as his carrier.

These were the dark, dismal surroundings of Lake Bangweolo. Amid such hardships they skirted the northern side of the lake, crossed the Chambesi at its eastern end, where the river is 300 yards wide and 18 feet deep, and turned their faces westward along the south side.

The doctor was now able to walk no further. When he tried to climb on his donkey he fell to the ground from sheer weakness. His faithful servants took him on their shoulders, or bore him along in a rudely constructed litter. On April 27, 1873, his last entry reads, “Knocked up quite, and remain——recover——sent to buy milch goats. We are on banks of the R. Molilamo.”

His last day’s march was on a litter through interminable marsh and rain. His bearers had to halt often, so violent were his pains and so great his exhaustion. He spoke kindly to his humble attendants and asked how many days’ march it was to the Lualaba.

Susi replied that “it was a three days’ march.”

“Then,” said the dying man, “I shall never see my river again.” The malarial poison was already benumbing his faculties. Even the fountains of the Nile had faded into dimness before his mind’s eye.

He was placed in a hut in Chitambo’s village, on April 29, after his last day’s journey, where he lay in a semi-conscious state through the night, and the day of April 30. At 11 P.M. on the night of the 30, Susi was called in and the doctor told him he wished him to boil some water, and for this purpose he went to the fire outside, and soon returned with the copper kettle full. Calling him close, he asked him to bring his medicine-chest, and to hold the candle near him, for the man noticed he could hardly see. With great difficulty Dr. Livingstone selected the calomel, which he told him to place by his side; then, directing him to pour a little water into a cup, and to put another empty one by it, he said in a low, feeble voice, “All right; you can go out now.” These were the last words he was ever heard to speak.

It must have been about 4 A.M. when Susi heard Majwara’s step once more. “Come to Bwana, I am afraid; I don’t know if he is alive.” The lad’s evident alarm made Susi run to arouse Chuma, Chowperé, Matthew, and Muanuaséré, and the six men went immediately to the hut.

Passing inside, they looked toward the bed. Dr. Livingstone was not lying on it, but appeared to be engaged in prayer, and they instinctively drew backward for the instant. Pointing to him, Mujwara said, “When I lay down he was just as he is now, and it is because I find that he does not move that I fear he is dead.” They asked the lad how long he had slept. Majwara said he could not tell, but he was sure that it was some considerable time: the men drew nearer.

A candle, stuck by its own wax to the top of the box, shed a light sufficient for them to see his form. Dr. Livingstone was kneeling by the side of his bed, his body stretched forward, his head buried in his hands upon the pillow. For a minute they watched him: he did not stir, there was no sign of breathing; then one of them, Matthew, advanced softly to him and placed his hands to his cheeks. It was sufficient; life had been extinct some time, and the body was almost cold: Livingstone was dead.

His sad-hearted servants raised him tenderly up and laid him full length on the bed. They then went out to consult together, and while there they heard the cocks crow. It was therefore between midnight and morning of May 1, 1873, his spirit had taken its flight. His last African journey began in 1866.

The noble Christian philanthropist, the manful champion of the weak and oppressed, the unwearied and keen-eyed lover of nature, the intrepid explorer whose name is as inseparably connected with Africa as that of Columbus is with America, had sunk down exhausted in the very heart of the continent, with his life-long work still unfinished. His highest praise is that he spent thirty years in the darkest haunts of cruelty and savagery and yet never shed the blood of his fellow-man. The noblest testimony to his character and his influence is the conduct of that faithful band of native servants who had followed his fortunes so long and so far, and who, embalming his body, and secretly preserving all his papers and possessions, carried safely back over the long weary road to the coast all that remained of the hero and his work.

Cameron was on his way toward Ujiji to rescue Livingstone when he heard of his death. He pursued his journey and reached Lake Tanganyika, determined to unravel the mystery of its outlet. He started on a sailing tour around the lake in March 1874. His flag boat was the “Betsy.” He only got half way round, but in this distance he counted the mouths of a hundred rivers, and found the shores constantly advancing in bold headlands and receding in deep bays. Both land and water teem with animal life. Elephants abounded in the jungles, rhinoceri and hippopotami were frequently seen, and many varieties of fish were caught. In one part the cliffs of the shores were sandstone, in another they were precipices of black marble, here were evidences of a coal formation, there crags of chalk whose bases were as clearly cut by the waves as if done with a knife. In many places cascades tumbled over the crags showing that the table land above was like a sponge filled with moisture.

The native boatmen were lazy and full of superstitions. Every crag and island seemed to be the resort of a demon of some kind, whose power for harm had no limit in their imaginations. Never but once, and that in the country of King Kasongo, had he seen the natives fuller of credulity nor more subject to the powers of witchcraft and magic. Their stories of the various forms of devils which dwelt in out of the way places were wilder than any childish fiction, and their magicians had unbridled control of their imaginations.

Cameron’s course was southward from Ujiji. He turned the southern end of the lake and found no outlet there. But he saw some of the most extraordinary examples of rock and tree scenery in the world. There were magnificent terraces of rock which looked as if they had been built by the hands of man, and scattered and piled in fantastic confusion were over-hanging blocks, rocking stones, obelisks, and pyramids. All were overhung with trees whose limbs were matted together by creepers. It was like a transformation scene in a pantomime rather than a part of Mother Earth, and one seemed to await the opening of the rocks and the appearance of the spirits. Not long to wait. The creepers sway and are pulled apart. An army of monkeys swing themselves into the foreground and, hanging by their paws, stop and chatter and gibber at the strange sight of a boat. A shout from the boatmen, and they are gone with a concerted scream which echoes far and wide along the shores.

The inhabitants are not impressive or numerous on the shores, yet they show art in dress, and in manufactures. They have been terribly demoralized by the slave traders, and many sections depopulated entirely. While sailing up the western shore of the lake, Cameron thought he found what was the long sought for outlet of Tanganyika——the traditional connecting link between it and Lakes Ngami and Albert Nyanza. Of a sudden the mountains broke away and a huge gap appeared in the shores. There was evidently a river there, and his boat appeared to be in a current setting toward it. The natives said it was the Lukuga, and that it flowed out of the lake westward toward the Lualaba.

But alas for human credulity. Cameron ran into the Lukuga for seven or eight miles, found it a reedy lagoon, without current, stood up in his boat and looked seven or eight miles further toward a break in the hills, beyond which he was told the river ran away in a swift current from the lake, and then he returned home to tell the wondrous story. Tanganyika had an outlet after all. The wise men all said, “I told you so; the lake is no more mysterious than any other.” Why Cameron should have stopped short on the eve of so great a discovery, or why he should have palmed off a native story as a scientific fact, can only be accounted for by the fact that he was sick during most of his cruise and at times delirious with fever. While it was thought that he had clarified the Tanganyika situation, it was really more of a mystery than when Burton and Speke, or Livingstone and Stanley, left it.

We here strike again the track of our own explorer Stanley. We have already followed him on his first African journey to Ujiji to find Livingstone, in 1871-72. We have seen also in our article on “The Sources of the Nile,” how he started on his second journey in 1874, determined to complete the work of Livingstone, by clearing up all doubts about the Nile sources. This involved a two-fold duty, first to fully investigate the Lakes Victoria Nyanza and Albert Nyanza; second the outlets of Tanganyika and the secret of the great Lualaba, which had so mystified Livingstone.

In pursuit of this mission we followed him to Victoria Nyanza, on his second journey, and saw how he was entertained by King Mtesa, and what adventures he had on the Victoria Nyanza. He settled it beyond doubt that the Victoria was a single large lake, with many rivers running into it, the chief of which was the Alexandra Nile. This done, he had hoped to visit Albert Nyanza, but the hostility of the natives prevented. He therefore turned southwestward toward Tanganyika, and on his way fell in with the old King Mirambo with whom he ratified a friendship by the solemn ceremony of “blood brotherhood.” The American and African sat opposite each other on a rug. A native chief then made an incision in the right leg of Mirambo and Stanley, drew a little blood from each, and exchanged it with these words:——“If either of you break this brotherhood now established between you, may the lion devour him, the serpent poison him, bitterness be his food, his friends desert him, his gun burst in his hands and everything that is bad do wrong to him until his death.”

On May 27, 1876, Stanley reached Ujiji, where he had met Livingstone in 1871. Sadly did he recall the fact that the “grand old hero” who had once been the centre of absorbing interest in that fair scene of water, mountain, sunshine and palm, was gone forever. He came equipped to circumnavigate the lake. He had along his boat, the “Lady Alice,” built lightly and in sections for just this kind of work. Leaving the bulk of his extensive travelling party at Ujiji, well provided for, he took along only a sufficient crew for his boat, under two guides, Para, who had been Cameron’s attendant in 1874, and Ruango who had piloted Livingstone and Stanley in 1871.

Once again the goodly “Lady Alice” was afloat, as she had been on Victoria Nyanza. He cruised along the shores for 51 days, travelled a distance of 800 miles, or within 125 miles of the entire circumference of the lake, and got back without serious sickness or the loss of a man. He found it a sealed lake everywhere——that is, with waters flowing only into it——none out of it.

What then became of Cameron’s wonderful story about the outlet of the Lukuga? Stanley looked carefully into this. He found a decided current running down the river into the lake. He pushed up the river to the narrow gorge in the mountains, beyond which the natives said the Lukuga ran westward toward the Lualaba. There he found a true and false story. In this ancient mountain gap was a clear divide of the Lukuga waters. Part ran by a short course into Tanganyika; part westward into the Lualaba. Stanley was of the opinion that the waters of the lake were rising year by year, and that in the course of time there would be a constant overflow through the Lukuga and into the Lualaba, as perhaps there had been long ages ago. Even now there is not much difference between the level of the lake and the marshes found in the mountain gap beyond, and Mr. Hore, who has since visited the Lukuga gap, says he found a strong current setting out of the lake westward, so that the time may have already come which Stanley predicted.

This Lukuga gap probably represents the fracture of an earthquake through which the waters of the lake escaped in former ages and which has been its safety-valve at certain times since. When it is full it may, therefore, be said to have an outlet. When not full its waters pass off by evaporation. It is only a semi-occasional contribution——if one at all——to the floods of the great Congo, and in this respect has no counterpart in the world. All of which settles the point of its connection with the Nile, and leaves the sources of that river to the north. Had Livingstone known this he could have saved himself the last two years of his journey and the perils and sickness which led to his death in the wilderness.

And now Stanley had clarified the situation behind him, which stretched over 800 miles of African continent. But looking toward the Atlantic, there lay stretched a 1000 miles of absolutely unknown country. Into this he plunged, and pursued his course till he struck the great northward running river——the Lualaba.

The path was broken and difficult. Rivers ran frequent and deep, and crossing was a source of delay, except where, occasionally, ingeniously constructed bridges were found, which answered the double purpose of crossing and fish-weir. These are built of poles, forty feet long, driven into the bed of the stream and crossing each other near the top. Other poles are laid lengthwise at the point of junction, and all are securely tied together with bamboo ropes. Below them the nets of the fishermen are spread, and over them a person may pass in safety.

Stanley’s party had been greatly thinned out, but it still consisted of 140 men. Cameron had found it impossible to follow the Lualaba. Livingstone had tried it again and again, to meet a more formidable obstacle in the hostility of the natives than in the forests, fens and animals. Could Stanley master its secret?

He was better equipped than any of his predecessors, just as earnest, and not averse to using force where milder means could not avail. He had settled so many knotty African problems, that this the greatest of all had peculiar fascination for him. He would “freeze to this river” and see whether it went toward the Nile, or come out, as he suspected it would, through the Congo into the Atlantic.

It was a mighty stream where he struck it, at the mouth of the Luama——“full 1400 yards wide and moving with a placid current”——and close to Nyangwe which was the highest point Livingstone had reached. Here he marshalled his forces for the unknown depths beyond. He had only one of his European attendants left——Frank Pocock. Not a native attendant faltered. It would have been death to desert, in that hostile region.

Such woods, so tall, dense and sombre, the traveller had never before seen. Those of Uganda and Tanganyika were mere jungle in comparison. Even the Manyuema had penetrated but a little their depths. They line the course of the Lualaba for 1500 miles from Nyangwe. At first Stanley’s party was well protected, for ahead of it went a large group of Arab traders. It was the opinion of these men that the “Lualaba flowed northward forever.” Soon the Arabs tired of their tramp through the dark dripping woods, and Stanley found it impracticable to carry the heavy sections of the “Lady Alice.” It was resolved to take to the river and face its rapids and savage cannibal tribes, rather than continue the struggle through these thorny and gloomy shades.

The river was soon reached and the “Lady Alice” launched. From this on, Stanley resolved to call the river the “Livingstone.” He divided his party, so that part took to the boat, and part kept even pace on the land. The stream and the natives were not long in giving the adventurers a taste of their peculiarities. A dangerous rapid had to be shot. The natives swarmed out in their canoes. The passage of the river was like a running fight.

On November 23, 1877, while the expedition was encamped on the banks of the river at the mouth of the Ruiki, thirty native canoes made a determined attack, which was only repulsed by force. On December 8, the expedition was again attacked by fourteen canoes, which had to be driven back with a volley. But the fiercest attack was toward the end of December, when a fleet of canoes containing 600 men bore down upon them with a fearful din of war-drums and horns, and the battle cry “Bo-bo, Bo-bo, bo-bo-o-o-oh!” Simultaneously with the canoe attack a terrible uproar broke out in the forest behind and a shower of arrows rained on Stanley and his followers.

There were but two courses for the leader, either to fight the best he knew how in defense of his followers, or meet a surer death by surrender. The battle was a fierce one for half an hour, for Stanley’s men fought with desperation. At length the canoes were beaten back, and thirty-six of them captured by an adroit ruse. This gave Stanley the advantage and brought the natives to terms. Peace was declared.

Here the Arab traders declared they could go no further amid such a country. So they returned, leaving Stanley only his original followers, numbering 140. The year 1877 closed in disaster. No sooner had he embarked all his force in canoes, for the purpose of continuing his journey, than a storm upset some of them, drowning two men and occasioning the loss of guns and supplies.

But the new year opened more auspiciously. It was a bright day and all were happily afloat on the broad bosom of the Lualaba, where safety lay in keeping in mid-stream, or darting to opposite shores when attacked. What a wealth of affluents the great river had and how its volume had been swelled! The Lomame had emptied through a mouth 600 yards wide.

On the right the Luama had sent in its volume through 400 yards of width, the Lira with 300 yards, the Urindi with 500 yards, the Lowwa with 1200 yards, the Mbura with two branches of 200 yards each, and 200 miles further on, the Aruwimi, 2000 yards from shore to shore.

The Lualaba (Livingstone) had now become 4000 yards wide and was flowing persistently northward. The equator has been reached and passed. Can it be that all these waters are the floods of the Nile and that Livingstone was right? There was little time for reflection. The natives were ever present and hostile, and the waters themselves were full of dangers.

But we have ran ahead of our party. Just after the mouth of the Lomame was passed the expedition reached that series of cataracts, which have been named Stanley Falls. Their roar was heard long before the canoes reached them, and high above the din of waters were heard the war-shouts of the Mwana savages on both sides of the stream. Either a way must be fought through these dusky foes, or the cataract with its terrors must be faced.

To dare the cataract was certain death. The canoes were brought to anchor, and a battle with the natives began. They were too strong, and Stanley retraced his course a little way, where he landed and encamped. Another trial, a fierce surge through the ranks armed with lances and poisoned arrows, gave them headway. The first cataract was rounded, and now they were in the midst of that wonderful series of waterfalls, where the Lualaba cuts its way for seventy miles through a range of high hills, with seven distinct cataracts, in a channel contracted to a third of its ordinary breadth, where the stream tumbles and boils, flinging itself over ledges of rock, or dashing frantically against the walls that hem it in, as if it were struggling with all its giant power to escape from its prison. Within the gorge the ear is stunned with the continual din of the rushing waters, and the attention kept constantly on the strain to avoid the perils of rock, rapid, whirlpool, and cataract with which the course is strewn. With extreme caution and good-luck the rapids may be run in safety; but how are frail canoes to survive the experiment of a plunge over a perpendicular ledge, in company with millions of tons of falling water, into an abyss of seething and gyrating foam?

Ashore, the cannibal natives lie in wait to oppose a landing, or better still, to slay or capture victims for their sport or larder. A toilsome ascent has to be made to the summit of the bluffs forming the river banks over rough boulders and through tangled forest. In places where the fall of the stream is slight it may be possible to lower down the boats, by means of strong hawsers of creepers, to the pool below; but in other cases the canoes have to be dragged painfully up the cliffs, and launched again with almost equal toil where the current seems a little calmer. All this while the poisoned arrows are hissing through the air, spears are launched out of every thicket, and stones are slung or thrown at the unlucky pioneers from each spot of vantage. Only by van and rear guards and flanking parties, and maintaining a brisk fire can the assailants be kept at bay. The vindictive foe are as incessant in their attacks by night as by day; and the whiz of the flying arrow, the hurtling of lances through the temporary stockade and the sharp crack of the rifle, mingle with the dreams of the sleeper.

The descent of Stanley Falls was not made without loss of life and property. In spite of every precaution, canoes would be dragged from their moorings and be sucked down by the whirlpools or swept over the falls; or the occupants would lose nerve in the presence of danger, and allow their craft to drift into the powerful centre current, whence escape was hopeless.

During their passage occurred one of the most thrilling scenes in all this long journey through the Dark Continent. The canoes were being floated down a long rapid. Six had passed in safety. The seventh, manned by Muscati, Uledi Muscati, and Zaidi, a chief, was overturned in a difficult piece of the water. Muscati and Uledi were rescued by the eighth canoe; but Zaidi, clinging to the upturned canoe, was swept past, and seemed on the point of being hurled over the brink of the fall. The canoe was instantly split in two, one part being caught fast below the water, while the other protruded above the surface. To the upper part Zaidi clung, seated on the rock, his feet in the water. Below him leapt and roared the fall, about fifty yards in depth; above him stretched fifty feet of gradually sloping water.

Mr. Stanley and a part of the expedition were at this time on the banks. No more strange and perilous position than that of Zaidi can be imagined. A small canoe was lowered by means of a cable of ratans; but the rope snapped and the canoe went over the falls. Poles tied to creepers were thrown toward him but they failed to reach. The rock was full fifty yards from the shore. Stanley ordered another canoe, fastened by cables, to be lowered. Only two men could be found to man it——Uledi, the coxswain of the “Lady Alice,” and Marzouk, a boat boy. “Mamba Kwa Mungu,” exclaimed Uledi, “My fate is in the hands of God.”

The two men took their places in the canoe and paddled across the stream. The cables which held the boat against the current were slackened, and it dropped to within twenty yards of the falls. A third cable was thrown from the boat toward Zaidi, but he failed to catch it till the sixth throw. Just as he grasped it the water caught him and carried him over the precipice. All thought him lost, but presently his head appeared, and he seemed still to have hold of the cable. Stanley ordered the canoemen to pull. They did so, but the upper cables of the canoe broke and it was carried toward the falls. Fortunately it caught on a rock, and Uledi and Marzouk were saved. They still had hold of the cable which Zaidi clung to. By dint of hard pulling they were enabled to save, for they dragged him back up the falls to their own perilous position. There were three now on the rock instead of one. Twenty times a cable loaded with a stone was thrown to them before they caught it. They drew it taut and thus had frail communication with the shore. But it was now dark and nothing more could be done till light came. In the morning it was decided that the cable was strong enough to hold the men if they would but try to wade and swim to shore. Uledi dared it, and reached land in safety. The others followed, and terminated an anxious scene.

Stanley was in the midst of these falls for twenty-two days and nights. On January 28, 1878, his peril and hardship ended by passing the last fall. By February 8, Rubanga, a village of the Nganza was reached, where he found friendly natives. And not a moment too soon, for his men were fainting for want of food. This was encouraging, but his heart was further rejoiced that the Lualaba had not only assumed its wide, placid flow, but had suddenly changed its northern direction to one almost westward toward the Atlantic. He was then not going toward the Nile. No, it was not a Nile water, but must be the Congo. What a rare discovery was then in store for him!

And the natives verified the thought. For the Rubanga chief, on being questioned, first mentioned the Congo. “Ikutu ya Kongo,” said he, “that is the river’s name.” The words thrilled Stanley. The Lualaba had ceased to flow, the Congo had taken up its song and would witness the further adventures of the brave explorer. It was a mile and a half wide, with a magnificent bosom. Green, fertile islands sprinkled its glassy surface. The party enjoyed needed rest, in this paradise, and then February 10, the boats pulled down stream again, the rowers bending gleefully and hopefully to their arduous task.

On the 14 the mouth of the Aruwimi was passed and they were in the Bangala country. Here they suffered from the most formidable attack yet made. It was the thirty-first struggle through which the party had passed on the Lualaba, or Congo, or Livingstone, though the latter name now seems out of place since we know that all is Congo, clear to Bangweolo, on whose shores Livingstone perished.

The shores of both the Congo and Aruwimi resounded with the din of the everlasting war-drums, and from every cove and island swarmed a crowd of canoes, that began forming into line to intercept and attack the travellers. These crafts were larger than any that had yet been encountered. The leading canoe of the savages was of portentous length, with forty paddlers on each side, while on a platform at the bow were stationed ten redoubtable young warriors, with crimson plumes of the parrot stuck in their hair, and poising long spears. Eight steersmen were placed on the stern, with large paddles ornamented with balls of ivory; while a dozen others, apparently chiefs, rushed from end to end of the boat directing the attack. Fifty-two other vessels of scarcely smaller dimensions followed in its wake. From the bow of each waved a long mane of palm fibre; every warrior was decorated with feathers and ornaments of ivory; and the sound of a hundred horns carved out of elephants’ tusks, and a song of challenge and defiance chanted from two thousand savage throats, added to the wild excitement of the scene. Their wild war-cry was “Yaha-ha-ha, ya Bengala.”

The assailants were put to flight after a series of charges more determined and prolonged than usual. This time, however, the blood of the strangers was fully up. They were tired of standing everlastingly on the defensive, of finding all their advances repelled with scorn and hatred. They carried the war into the enemy’s camp, and drove them out of their principal village into the forest. In the centre of the village was found a singular structure——a temple of ivory, the circular roof supported by thirty-three large tusks, and surmounting a hideous idol, four feet high, dyed a bright vermillion color, with black eyes, beard and hair. Ivory here was “abundant as fuel,” and was found carved into armlets, balls, mallets, wedges, grain pestles, and other articles of ornament and use; while numerous other weapons and implements of iron, wood, hide, and earthenware attested the ingenuity of the people. Their cannibal propensities were as plainly shown in the rows of skulls that grinned from poles, and the bones and other grisly remains of human feasts scattered about the village streets.

They had now a peaceful river for a time, or rather they were enabled to float in its middle, or dodge from shore to shore, without direct attack. But food became scarce. On February 20, they got a supply from natives whom they propitiated. On the 23, Amima, wife of the faithful Kacheche died. Her last words to Stanley were, “Ah, master, I shall never see the sea again. Your child Amima, is dying. I have wished to see the cocoa-nuts and the mangoes, but, no, Amima is dying, dying in a Pagan land. She will never see Zanzibar again. The master has been very good to his children, and Amima remembers it. It is a bad world master, and you have lost your way in it. Good bye, master, and do not forget poor little Amima.” The simple pathos of this African girl sweetened a death-bed scene as much as a Christian’s prayer could have done.

For a distance of 1000 miles from Stanley Falls the river is without cataracts, flowing placidly here, and there widening to ten miles, with numerous channels through reedy islands. Every thing was densely tropical——trees, flowers, plants, birds, animals. Crocodiles were especially plenty in the water, and all the large land animals of the equatorial regions could be seen at intervals. There were few adventures with these, for the party clung rigidly to their boats; but once in a while, a coterie, organized for a hunting bout, would come back with such stirring tales of attack and escape as we are accustomed to read of in connection with the eastern coasts of the continent where hunting the elephant, rhinoceros, lion, hippopotamus, is more of a regular business, and where spicy stories of adventure are accepted without question.

After a treacherous attack by the people of King Chumbiri——Stanley’s thirty-second battle——the natives showed a more peaceable disposition. They had heard of western coast white men and knew something of their ways. So there was a pleasant flow of water and a safe shore, for many days. But now the river was about to change. It received the Ikelemba, a powerful stream of tea-colored water, 1000 yards wide. Its waters flowed along in the same bed, unmixed with those of the Congo, for 150 miles. This immense tributary and that of the Ibari, were reported to come from great lakes, 800 miles to the south, and probably the same that Livingstone and Cameron both mention in their travels.

For 900 miles the Congo has had a fall of only 364 feet, or a third of a foot to the mile. We are now within 400 miles of the Atlantic, yet 1150 feet above it, and on the edge of the great table lands of Central Africa. The days of smooth sailing are at an end. The mountains come close to the stream, and the channel narrows. The white chalky cliffs remind Frank Pocock of the coasts of Dover in his own England. A roar is heard in advance. The cataracts have begun again, and they sound as ominously as the war-cry of the natives hundreds of miles back in the woods and jungles.

We have now been over four months on this river, and the next two hundred miles are to be the most tedious, laborious and disastrous of all. The terrors of Stanley Falls are here duplicated a thousand times. Bluffs rise 1500 feet high. Between them the river rushes over piles of boulders, or shoots with frightful velocity past the bases of impending crags, up which one must quickly scramble or else be carried into the boiling whirlpools below.

These falls we shall call the “Livingstone Falls.” In their general features they are not like Niagara, or Victoria on the Zambesi, but a succession of headlong rushes, as if the river were tearing down a gigantic rock stairway.

Of the Great Ntamo Fall, Stanley says: “Take a strip of sea, blown over by a hurricane, four miles in length by half a mile in breadth, and a pretty accurate conception of its rushing waves may be obtained. Some of the troughs were one hundred yards in length, and from one to another the mad river plunged. There was first a rush down into the middle of an immense trough, and then, by sheer force, the enormous volume would lift itself upwards steeply until, gathering itself into a ridge, it suddenly hurled itself twenty or thirty feet straight upwards before rolling down into another trough. The roar was deafening and tremendous. I can only compare it to the thunder of an express train through a rock tunnel.”

In this vast current, rushing along at the rate of thirty miles an hour, the strongest steamer would be as helpless as a cockle-shell, and as for frail canoes, they had to be dragged from rock to rock, or taken clear from the water and borne by land around the obstructions. Frequently canoes were wrecked and then a halt had to be ordered till new ones were hewn from trees. Yet amid trial, sickness and sore distress they had to pause at times in wonder before the imposing sights that opened on them. One was that of the Edwin Arnold River which flings itself with a single bound of 300 feet into the Congo, clearing the base of its cliff by ten yards. Still more wonderful is the cascade of the Nkenke, which is a plunge of a 1000 feet; and near by another with a fall of 400 feet.

Many gaps were made in the ranks of Stanley’s companions through this “Valley of Shadow.” In one day (March 28) he saw eleven of his men swept over a cataract and disappear in the boiling waters below. First a boat, in which was Kalulu, an attendant of Stanley in all his journeys, was sucked within the power of a fall and plunged into the abyss. Hardly had the eye turned from this horror when another canoe was seen shooting down the stream toward what appeared to be certain death. By almost a miracle it made an easy part of the cataract and the occupants succeeded in reaching the shore in safety. Close behind came a third with a single occupant. As the boat made its plunge the occupant rose and shouted a farewell to his companions on the shore. Then boat and man disappeared. A few days afterwards he re-appeared like an apparition in camp. He had been tossed ashore far below and held a prisoner by the natives, who had picked him up more dead than alive.

On April 12, the “Lady Alice” herself, with her crew, came to the very verge of destruction. The boat was approaching a bay in which the camp for the night was to be made, when a noise like distant thunder fell on the ears of the crew. The river rose before them into a hill of water. It was a whirlpool, at its full. All hands bent to their paddles and the boat was plunged into the hill of water before it broke. They thus escaped being sucked into a vortex which would have sunk the boat and drowned all. As it was, the boat was whirled round and round through a succession of rapids, before the crew could bring her under control again.

Fortunately the natives were still friendly and of superior type. They had many European manufactures, which pass from tribe to tribe in regular traffic, and enjoyed a higher civilization than those of the Central African regions. Stanley rested with these people for several days while his carpenter made two new canoes.

On June 3, he lost his servant, comrade and friend, last of the Europeans, the brave and faithful Frank Pocock. All the boats had been taken from the water and carried past the Massase Falls, except the canoe “Jason,” in which were Pocock, Uledi and eleven others. This had gotten behind on account of Frank’s ulcerated feet. Chafing at the delay he urged Uledi to “shoot the falls,” against the latter’s judgment, and even taunted the crew with cowardice.

“Boys,” cried Uledi, addressing the crew, “our little master is saying that we are afraid of death. I know there is death in the cataract; but come, let us show him that black men fear death as little as white men.”

“A man can die but once!” “Who can contend with his fate?” “Our fate is in the hands of God,” were the various replies of the men.

“You are men,” exclaimed Frank.

The boat was headed for the falls. They were reached, and in another moment the canoe had plunged into the foaming rapid. Spun round like a top in the furious waters, the boat was whirled down to the foaming pit below. Then she was sucked below the surface and anon hurled up again with several men clinging to her, among them Uledi. Presently the form of the “little master” was seen floating on the surface. Uledi swam to him, seized him, and both sunk. When the brave Uledi appeared again he was alone. Poor Pocock’s tragic death was a blow to the whole expedition. Most of the party gave way to superstitious dread of the river and many deserted, but quickly returned, after a trial of the dreary woods.

On June 23, the carpenter of the expedition was swept over the Zinga Falls, in the canoe, “Livingstone,” and drowned. Stanley’s food supply was frequently very short amid the difficulties of Livingstone Falls. Not that there was not plenty on the shores, but his means of buying were exhausted, and such a thing as charity is not common to the African tribes. Even where most friendly, they are always on the lookout for a trade, and a bargain at that. It is a great hardship for them to give, without a consideration.

The appearance of his attendants cut Mr. Stanley to the heart every day——so emaciated, gaunt, and sunken-eyed were they; bent and crippled with weakness who had once been erect and full of manly vigor. And the leader’s condition was no better. Gone now was all the keen ardor for discovery, the burning desire to penetrate where no white man had yet penetrated which animated his heart at the outset of his journey. Sickness that had drained his strength, anxiety that had strained to its utmost pitch the mind, sorrow for loss and bereavement that had wearied the spirit——these had left Mr. Stanley a very different man from that which he was when he set out full of hope and ardor from Zanzibar. All his endeavor now was to push on as fast as possible, to reach the ocean with as little more of pain and death to his followers as possible.

At last Stanley struck a number of intelligent tribes who gave much information about the rest of the river and the coast. There were three great falls still below them, and any number of dangerous rapids. It would be folly to risk them with their frail barks. Moreover, he learned that the town of Boma, on the Atlantic coast, could be reached by easy journeys across the country. His main problem, as to whether the Lualaba and the Congo were the same, had long since been solved. He had been following the Congo all the time, had seen its splendid forests and mighty affluents, its dashing rapids and bewildering whirlpools and falls, had even, through the spectacles of Livingstone, seen its head waters in Lake Bangweolo, amid whose marshes the veteran explorer laid down his life.

What need then to risk life further at this time, and in his very poor condition. He resolved to leave the river and make direct for the coast at Boma. When he assembled his followers to make this welcome announcement to them, they were overcome with joy. Poor Safeni, coxswain of the “Lady Alice,” went mad with rapture and fled into the forest. Three days were spent in searching for him, but he was never seen more.

Relinquishing his boat and all unnecessary equipage at the cataract of Isangila, the party struck for Boma, but only to give out entirely when still three days distant. A messenger was sent in advance for aid. He came back in two days with a strong band of carriers and abundance of food. The perishing party was thus saved, and was soon receiving the care of the good people of Boma. Here all forgot their toils and perils amid civilized comforts and the pardonable pride aroused by their achievements. Stanley’s exploit is unparalleled in the history of African adventure. Though not the first to cross the Continent, he hewed an unknown way and every step was a startling revelation. He did more to unravel African mysteries and settle geographic problems than any other explorer.

And, August 12, 1877, three years after his start from Zanzibar on the Indian Ocean, and eight months after setting out from Nyangwe to follow the Lualaba, he stood on the Atlantic shores at Boma and gazed on the mouth of the Congo, whose waters shot an unmixed current fifty miles out to sea. Though he had proved it to be so, he could still hardly believe that this vast flood pouring 2,000,000 cubic feet of water a second into the ocean, through a channel ten miles wide and 1300 feet deep, was the same that he had followed through wood and morass, rapid and cataract, rock bound channel and wide expanse, for so long a time, and that it was the same which Diego Cam discovered by its color and reedy track four hundred years before, while sailing the ocean out of sight of land.

In the journey of 7200 miles, one hundred and fourteen of Stanley’s original party had perished. Many had fallen in battle or by treachery, more were the victims of disease, and some had succumbed to toil or been “washed down by the gulfs.” But a goodly remnant survived. These were returned, according to contract, to their Zanzibar home. Stanley went with them by steamer around the Cape of Good Hope.

It needs not to tell the joy with which the people again beheld their home; how they leaped ashore from the boat; how their friends rushed down to the beach to welcome back the wanderers; how wives and husbands, children and parents, “literally leaped into each other’s arms,” while “with weeping and with laughter” the wonderful story of the long and terrible journey is told to the eager listeners.

Stanley, having paid his followers in full, according to the terms of his contract, and rewarded some over and above their lawful claims, so that not a few of the men were able to purchase neat little houses and gardens with their savings, prepared to quit Zanzibar forever.

The scene on the beach on the day of Stanley’s departure was a strange and an affecting one. The people of the expedition pressed eagerly around him, wrung his hand again and again, and finally, lifting him upon their shoulders, carried him through the surf to his boat. Then the men, headed by Uledi the coxswain, manned a lighter and followed Mr. Stanley’s boat to the steamer, and there bade their leader a last farewell.

Stanley’s own feelings at this moment were no less keen. As the steamer which bore him home left the shore of Zanzibar behind, his thoughts were busy with the past; he was living once again in retrospect the three strange, eventful years, during which these simple black people had followed him with a fidelity at once simple and noble, childlike and heroic. For him, his comrades in travel through the Dark Continent must ever remain heroes; for it was their obedient and loyal aid that had enabled him to bring his expedition to a successful and noble issue, to accomplish each of the three tasks he had set himself to do,——the exploration of the great Victoria Nyanza Lake, the circumnavigation of Tanganyika, and the identification of Livingstone’s Lualaba River with the Congo.

Ever since this memorable journey, Mr. Stanley has been enthusiastically working to found a great Congo free Government and commercial empire, which all the nations shall recognize and to which all shall contribute. He has projected a steamer system, of heavy draught vessels, from the mouth of the river to the first cataracts. Here a commercial emporium is to be founded. A railway is to start thence and lead to the smooth waters above. This would open 7000 miles of navigable waters on the Upper Congo and a trade of $50,000,000 a year. It would redeem one of the largest fertile tracts of land on the globe and bring peace, prosperity and civilization to millions of human beings. Only climate seems to be against his plans, for it is undoubtedly hostile to Europeans. But if native energies can be enlisted sufficiently to make a permanent ground work for his ideal state, he may yet rank not only as the greatest of discoverers but as the foremost of statesmen and humanitarians. The possibilities of the Congo region are boundless.

A missionary just returned from the Congo country thus writes of it:

“The bounds of this ‘Congo Free State’ are not yet defined, but they will ultimately embrace the main stream and its immense system of navigable tributaries, some of which are 800 miles long. The Congo itself waters a country more than 900 miles square, or an area of 1,000,000 square miles. These rivers make access to Equatorial Africa and to the Soudan country quite easy.

“The resources of this fine region are exhaustless. The forests are dense and valuable. Their rubber wealth is untouched, and equal to the world’s supply. Everywhere there is a vast amount of ivory, which lies unused or is turned into the commonest utensils by the natives. There are palms which yield oil, plantains, bananas, maize, tobacco, peanuts, yams, wild coffee, and soil equal to any in the world for fertility. Europeans must guard against the climate, but it is possible to get enured to it, with care. In the day-time the temperature averages 90° the year round, but the average of the night temperature is 70° to 75°. Rain falls frequently, and mostly in the night. The natives are hostile, only where they have suffered from invasion by Arab slave dealers.

“Already there are some 3000 white settlers in the heart of the Congo country——Portuguese, English, Belgians, Dutch, Scandinavians and Americans, and their influence is being felt for good. The completion of Stanley’s railroad around the Congo rapids will give fresh impetus to civilization and lay the basis of permanent institutions in this great country.”

THE CAPE OF STORMS.

The little Portuguese ship of Bartholomew Diaz was the first to round the “Cape of Storms” in 1486. When King John II. of Portugal, heard of his success he said it should thereafter be called Cape of Good Hope. The passage of this southermost point of Africa meant a route to India, on which all hearts were set at the time.

Nearly two hundred years later, in 1652, the Dutch settled at the Cape. They called the Quaique, or natives, Hottentots——from the repetition of one of the words used in their dances.

The Colony became a favorite place for banished Huguenots——from France and Peidmont. It grew, got to be strong, and at length tyrannical. The more liberal members left it and pushed into the interior, where they drove back the Kaffirs, and redeemed much valuable territory. The parent Colony tried to force its government on these pioneers, who were called “Boers”——the Dutch word for “farmers.” A rebellion ensued. The Prince of Orange asked England to help suppress it (1795). She did so, and with characteristic greed, kept it till 1803. It then passed to the Dutch, but was retaken by England in 1806.

Settlement marched rapidly up the eastern coast of Africa, and a great agricultural section was opened. The Kaffir tribes protested and five fierce wars were fought, with the loss of all Kaffraria to the natives. The Boers were never reconciled to British authority. They murmured, rebelled, and kept migrating northward, till north of the Orange River they founded the Natal, the Orange Free State, and the Transvaal Republic.

The high promontory of Cape of Good Hope——Table Mountain——is visible a long distance from the sea, owing to the dry, light atmosphere. On its spurs are many ruins of block-houses, used by the early settlers. Over it, at times, hangs a veil of cloud, called the “Table Cloth,” which, when dispersed by the sun, the inhabitants say is put away for future use.

The town of Cape Colony, or Cape Town, is now perfectly modern, and very pretty. It was here that the great missionary Robert Moffat began his African career in 1816; here that Pringle started to found his ideal town Glen Lynden.

In 1867 all Cape Colony was thrown into excitement by the discovery that diamond fields existed inland near the Kalihari Desert. There was a rush like that in our own country in 1849 when gold was discovered in California. Exaggerated stories of finds of diamonds by natives, valued at $50,000 a piece, were eagerly listened to, and in a few weeks there was a population of 10,000 in a hitherto unknown region, with the road thither, for hundreds of miles, literally alive with wagons, oxen, pack mules and footmen.

The diamond territory is Griqualand, on the headwaters of the Orange and Vaal Rivers and close to the desert——partly in it. The region is 16,000 square miles in extent and 3000 feet above the ocean. In the diamond fields the diamonds are found in the sand by washing. This is the native method of getting them, and also that adopted by thousands of people who have no capital.

But it was soon found that they could be had in larger numbers and of greater size and purity by digging. This brought capital, machinery, and regular mining tracts, called “Claims.”

At first the mining towns were made up of tents, filled with a mixed people, toiling willingly all day, and dancing, gambling, drinking and rioting at night. At one time there were 60,000 persons in these diamond fields, but now not more than 40,000.

The Kimberley mine is the favorite. It has been excavated to a depth of 250 feet and has proved very rich. It is now surrounded by quite a town, and the people——mostly native diggers——are orderly and industrious. The diggers delve with spade and pick in the deep recesses of the mine, and the sand, rock and earth are pulled to the surface in buckets, where they are sorted, sieved, and closely examined for diamonds.

Formerly the “claims” sold for fabulous prices. Many, only thirty by sixteen feet, brought $100,000. And some rare finds have been made. The great diamond, found a few years ago, and called the “Star of South Africa,” was sold, before cutting, for $55,000. And while we are writing, one is undergoing the process of cutting in Paris which is a true wonder. It arrived from South Africa in August, 1884, and was purchased by a syndicate of London and Paris diamond merchants. It weighs in the rough 457 carats and will dress to 200 carats. The great Koh-i-noor, weighs only 106 carats, the Regent of France 136-3/4 carats, the Star of South Africa 125 carats, the Piggott 82-1/4 carats, and the Great Mogul 279 carats. But the latter is a lumpy stone, and if dressed to proper proportions, would not weigh over 140 carats.

The Kaffraria country, lying between Cape Colony and Natal, is rich in beautiful scenery and abounds in animal life. While the larger animals, as the elephant and lion, have retreated inland, there are still many beasts of prey, and the forests have not given over their troops of chattering baboons. Its greatest scourge is periodical visits of immense flights of locusts, which destroy all vegetation wherever they light. The natives make them into cakes and consider them a great delicacy. These natives are a brave, fine people, and have been conquered and held with difficulty. As they yield to civilization they make an industrious and attractive society.

Natal was so named, in honor of our Saviour, more than 300 years ago by Vasco de Gama. It was the centre of the Zulu tribes, whom King Charka formed into an all-conquering army, until the invasion of the country by the Boers. It became a British colony in 1843, and has been held with the greatest difficulty, for the Zulu warriors showed a bravery and method in their warfare which made them formidable enemies even against forces with superior arms and discipline. It was in the English wars with the Zulus that the Prince Imperial, of France, lost his life. A writer describes the Zulus “as a race of the most handsome and manly people found among savages; tall, muscular, and of remarkable symmetry, beauty and strength. Their carriage is upright, and among the chiefs, majestic.”

The Drackenberg Mountains, many of whose peaks are 10,000 feet high, shut off Natal from the Transvaal Republic. This Transvaal region was, as already seen, redeemed from the natives by the Boers, who are mostly devoted to farming, but many to a pastoral life like that of the old patriarchs, living in wagons or tents and leading, or rather following, about immense herds of cattle and sheep. They are a hardy, strong, brave people, and in subduing them and annexing their beautiful and fertile country, it is very doubtful whether Great Britain has done herself credit or humanity benefit. Boers may not be all that modern civilization could desire. In their contact with the natives they may have retrograded to a certain extent. But it is very probable they have made larger and more beneficial conquests over nature than any other more highly endowed and uncompromising people could have done in the same length of time. There is hardly a product of the soil that does not grow in the Transvaal——corn, tobacco, apricots, figs, oranges, peaches——two and sometimes three crops a year. It is finely watered with noble mountain streams, and is rich in iron, tin, copper, lead, coal and gold. The capital, Pretoria, is the centre of a rich trade in ostrich feathers.

Ostrich farming is a large industry in these South African States. Farmers buy and sell these animals like cattle. They fence them in, stable them, tend them, grow crops for them, study their habits, and cut their precious feathers, all as a matter of strict business. The animals begin to yield feathers at eight months old, and each year they grow more valuable. They are nipped or cut off, not plucked. The ostrich feather trade of South Africa is of the value of $1,000,000 a year. The birds are innocent and stupid looking, but can attack with great ferocity, and strike very powerfully with their feet. The only safe posture under attack by them is to lie down. They then can only trample on you.

The Transvaal region is a paradise for hunters. The elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, buffalo, giraffe, zebra, springbok, gnu, lion, and indeed every African animal, finds a home amid its deep woody recesses and sparkling waters. As he entered its borders from the desert, Pinto’s camp was attacked by two lions, who scented his desert pony and herd of cattle. The natives became demoralized, and Pinto himself could do little toward saving his property on account of the darkness. Fortunately he got his hand on a dark lantern, in which was a splendid calcium light. Placing this in the hand of a native, he ordered him to go as near to the growling intruders as was safe, Pinto following with a double-barreled rifle. The glare of the light was then turned full in the faces of the beasts. They were dazed by it, and cowered for a moment. That moment was fatal. Pinto gave both a mortal wound and saved his cattle. And it was here that Cummings lost one of his guides, who was pounced upon by a lion as he lay asleep before a camp fire. Here also Lieutenant Moodie and his party got the ill-will of a herd of elephants, which charged upon them and gave furious chase, knocking the Lieutenant down and tramping him nearly to death. One of his companions was killed outright by the charging beasts and his body tossed angrily into the jungle with their tusks.

But the finest sport is hunting the buffalo. He is stealthy, cunning and swift. It requires a long shot or a quick ingenious chase to bag him. He never knows when he is beaten and will continue to charge and fight though riddled with bullets or pierced with many lances. Gillmore was once intent on an elephant track when suddenly his party was charged by five buffaloes. His horse saved him by a tremendous leap to one side, but one of his attendants was tossed ten feet in the air, and another landed amid the branches of a tree, one of which he fortunately caught.

NYASSALAND.

Threats of war between England and Portugal bring into prominence that portion of Central Africa which is embraced in the title “Nyassaland.” While ordinarily it might be embraced in the Zambesi system, it is a land quite by itself, especially as to its topography and the position it occupies in the commercial and political world, and is in many respects the most interesting part of East Central Africa. It is a back-ground to Portugal’s Mozambique possessions, but at the same time the very heart of the British effort to cut a magnificent water way inland from the mouths of the Zambesi to the mouths of the Nile. Hence the conflict of interest there, a conflict which must go on by arbitration or by war, till Great Britain secures what she wants——control of the Shiré river and Lake Nyassa. The navigation of the Lower Zambesi is already open to all nations.

The river Shiré, which we are now about to ascend, falls into the Zambesi from the left, only some ninety miles from its mouth. Twenty years ago its course was unknown, and its banks were wildernesses untrodden by the foot of a white man. Now the stream is one of the best-known and most frequented of the highways to the Lake Regions. The Shiré is much narrower than the Zambesi, but of deeper channel, and in the upper and lower portions more easily ascended by steamers. Midway in its course, however, we meet a great impediment to the navigation of the river, and consequently to the civilization and commercial development of the regions beyond. In thirty-five miles the stream descends twelve hundred feet in a series of rapids and cataracts over a rock-encumbered bed and between sheer walls of cliff.

Beauty and use are badly adjusted on the Shiré. The scenery of the unnavigable portion of the river is full of singular and romantic beauty. In the picturesque diversity of its charms of crag and forest and rushing water it is scarcely equalled by any other part of Africa. Monotony, on the other hand, has set its stamp on the banks of the useful, slow-flowing river beneath and above. Yet the ascent of one hundred and fifty miles from the Zambesi to the cataracts is not without its attractions. The landscape is intensely and characteristically African. If the river is fringed on either shore by tall and sombre reeds, the majestic mountains that bound the Shiré valley are always in sight. A dense tropical vegetation covers these hills to the very tops, except that patches of lighter tint show where the hands of the natives have cleared the ground for the cultivation of crops of cotton, sorghum, or maize; for these healthy uplands, above the reach of the mosquito and the deadly marsh fog, and safe also, in some degree, from the ravages of the kidnapper, are inhabited by an industrious race, the Manganjas, who have made no small progress in agriculture and native iron and metal manufactures.

This whole country is favorable for the raising of cotton, which here grows a larger and finer staple, it is said, even than in Egypt. Every Manganja village has its cotton patch, where sufficient is grown for the use riot only of the community but of neighboring tribes. The demand certainly is not large, the requirements of Africans in the matter of clothing being modest——or immodest, if you will. There is a tribe, for instance, on the Lower Zambesi, whose name, being interpreted, means the “Go-Nakeds.” The full costume of a “Go-Naked” is a coat——of red ochre. Livingstone met one of their men of rank once, and found his court suit represented by a few beads and a pipe two feet long. Unfortunately the Manganja, along with their ingenuity and industry as weavers, blacksmiths, and farmers, are inordinately fond of beer and smoking, and are great in the arts of brewing and tobacco-manufacturing. With all these disadvantages, however, it is pleasant to find, in one corner at least of Africa, a race with both the skill and the inclination to work, and a native industry ready to spring up into large proportions so soon as it receives a little encouragement.

After the Zambesi has been left behind, a great mountain called Morumbala, four thousand feet in height, bounds for many miles the view on the right as we ascend the Shiré. Beyond it we reach one of the marshes or old lake-beds which form one of the features of this valley. The bounding lines of hills make each a semicircular curve, and inclose a vast morass, through the centre of which the river drains slowly between dripping walls of sedge and mud. No human inhabitant can dwell in these impenetrable swamps; but they are far from empty of life. Great flights of wild geese, ducks, waders, and other water-fowl abound here in prodigious numbers, and rise from the brake at the noise of the passing boat or steamer——for already steamers now ply on the waters of the river below and the great lake above.

The discovery of the lake was due to Livingstone who had heard of the “Great Water” somewhere to the north of the Zambesi and far amid the mountains of the Shiré. His first attempt to reach it was a failure, through reticence of the people respecting it and the natural difficulties he encountered. But his worst enemy was his guide who misled him until all were completely lost. The party were in a desperate strait. Suspicion of treachery filled every bosom except Livingstone’s. One of his faithful Makololos came up to him, and remarked, in a matter-of-fact way, “That fellow is taking us into mischief. My spear is sharp. There is no one here. Shall I cast him into the long grass?” A gesture of assent, or even silence, and the unlucky guide would have been run through the body; but Livingstone was not the man to permit blood to be spilt, even on an apparently well-grounded suspicion of treachery. After all, it turned out to be merely a blunder, and no treachery. The party were led safely to the margin of the “great lake” of the district——the elephant marsh that they had passed some time before while ascending the river!

The second trip resulted in a discovery of an inland sea, though not the one they were in search of. Climbing over the shoulder of the high mountains east of the Shiré, the party came in sight of Lake Shirwa, lying in an isolated, pear-shaped basin, nearly two thousand feet above sea-level. Magnificent mountain scenery surrounds the lake, the waters of which, contrary to the rule in Central Africa, are salt, or rather brackish. Although the area of Shirwa is large, it is but a mill-pond compared with Nyassa and some of the other African lakes. Yet, girt in though it is with hills, it shows to one standing near its southern end a boundless sea-horizon towards the north. Opposite on the eastern shore a lofty range rises to a height of eight thousand feet above sea-level, while behind, the table-topped Mount Zomba, only one thousand feet lower, dominates the Shiré valley.

All this mountainous mass seems habitable, and, in fact, is inhabited to its very summits; and its temperate climate, healthful breezes, and freedom from malaria and mosquitoes, have led to its being chosen as the site of the Church of Scotland mission to the Nyassa country——their station, Blantyre, being named after the Scottish village where Livingstone first saw the light.

In ascending to the Nyassa, the opposite or western side of the Shiré is generally chosen, and travellers prefer to make a wide détour into the healthy Manganja uplands to struggling through the rocky, broken, and wooded country through which the river tears its impetuous way. It is delightful to breathe the bracing air of these high plains after escaping from the humid, stifling atmosphere of the valley. The change of scenery and climate puts a new life into the veins of the traveller. Many novel views of African life come under his notice among the Manganja highlands. The path up the long ascent is toilsome, but the eye is cheered by the glorious views of the deep valley lying below and the blue domes and peaks that rise ahead. The country is open and park-like, full of grand forest trees and flowing streams.

In the evening we halt at a Manganja village and receive a hearty——perhaps an uproarious——welcome. The villages are surrounded by thick-set hedges of the poisonous euphorbia; and however busy at work or at feasting the inhabitants are inside, a guard is always kept on vigilant watch at the entrance, to give warning if a foraging band of Mazitu heave in sight in the mountains, or the white robes of a party of Arab slave-hunters are seen ascending the valley. When it is known that it is friends who are approaching, the villagers are not long in making amends for the shyness of their first greetings. Mats of reeds and bamboo are spread for the wayfarers under the shade of the banian tree at the “boalo,” an open space for the public entertainment of strangers at one end of the village, the favorite spot for lounging and smoking, and where on moonlight nights the young people indulge in singing and dancing and their elders in hard drinking bouts. The whole community troop out to see the white visitors, who are regarded with just such a mixture of curiosity and fear as a company of Red Indians would be looked upon by English rustics. Presents are exchanged with the chief, and then a brisk trade sets in, the villagers bartering food and articles of native manufacture for beads, looking-glasses, cloth, and other surprising products of Europe. Generally there follow dancing, pombe-drinking, and serenading in honor of the visitor, a homage which the latter is often glad to escape from by strolling out for a night-hunt for elephant or other game, or to note down by the clear light of the moon his observations for the day.

Soon it is time to descend into the valley, where the Shiré is found again flowing deep and slow, as below the falls, and opening up into a marshy lakelet, Pamalombe, with a strong family resemblance to the swamps of the lower river. It ought to be recorded, in justice to African honesty, that when the Ilala, the first steamer that floated on the Nyassa, was conveyed in pieces from the Lower to the Upper Shiré by a band of some hundreds of porters, under Captain Young’s leadership, it was found, on putting the little craft together, that not a single bolt or screw had been mislaid or stolen, though the temptation to fling away or decamp with their burdens must have sorely tried the carriers.

Even when almost within sight of the Nyassa. Livingstone could hear nothing of the goal of which he was in search. The chief of the “Great Lake” village on the Shiré told him that the river stretched on for “two months’ journey,” and then emerged from two rocks that towered perpendicularly to the skies. “We shall go and see these wonderful rocks,” said the doctor. “And when you see them,” objected his Makololo companions, “you will just want to see something else.” Next day they continued their march, and before noon came in sight of the lake.

Like the Tanganyika and Albert Lakes, Nyassa is a long and comparatively narrow body of water lying in a deep depression of the plateau of Central Africa. From the outlet of the Shiré one can sail on its waters for more than three hundred miles towards the equator; but it is nowhere more than sixty miles in width, and in some places less than half that distance across. It resembles the more northerly lakes, the Albert Nyanza and the Tanganyika, but especially the latter, in its general shape and direction; and it was for many years a favorite theory with “closet geographers” that the three lakes formed one continuous sheet of water. Such an attenuated “river-sea,” fifteen hundred miles in length and with no breadth to speak of, would have been a new thing in nature, and would, besides, have been an extremely useful factor in opening up Africa. Unfortunately, like other pretty theories, it did not stand the test of actual examination; and we have seen that the three lakes form parts of three different though not disconnected systems.

The shores of Nyassa seem to be overhung on all sides by tall mountains, although near the southern end there is generally a margin of more level country between the bases of the hills and the lake. As we proceed northwards, the distinctive features of the lake shores become more pronounced and majestic. The strip of plain narrows until it disappears. The range increases in altitude and approaches nearer, the rocky buttresses spring directly from the water, and the torrents that rush down their sides plunge in cascades into the lake; and the extreme northern end is encircled by dark mountains, whose frowning tops are ten thousand feet or more above sea-level. But when we ascend from the sweltering western margin of the lake to the cool and breezy heights that look down on it, we find that instead of being on the summit of a range of mountains we are only on the edge of a wide table-land. There is no steep slope corresponding to that which we have ascended so toilsomely, only a gentle incline towards the Zambesi.

On his last great expedition to Africa, Dr. Livingstone passed round the southern end of the lake, and, ascending the table-land, traced the water-shed between the lake and the streams flowing to the westward, until he descended into the valley of the Chambesi, and began that investigation of the Congo which is hereafter more fully described. The contour of the country reminded him strongly of that of Southern India. There was the flat country covered with thick jungle and tiger-grass, succeeded by dense forest, gradually thinning away to clumps of evergreens as the higher levels are reached, the scattered masses of boulders, the deeply-trenched “nullahs” or water-courses, and all the other familiar features of the fine scenery of the Ghauts, while the tableland above resembled closely the high plains of the Deccan. But what a contrast in the social and industrial condition of the two countries! Instead of seeing at every step, as in India, the traces of a long-founded civilization and a race of industrious tillers of the soil dwelling in peace and security under the strong arm of the law, we meet only with anarchy, misery, and barbarism.

The whole of this region is a hunting-ground of the Mazitu or Mavitu Zulus, whose only business is war and pillage. The wretched inhabitants of these hills dwell in constant apprehension of their raids. On no night can they sleep even within the shelter of their well-guarded stockades with the assurance that the Mavitu will not be upon them ere morning. Originally weak in numbers, this tribe has gathered strength by amalgamating with themselves the clans they have conquered. The terror which their deeds have inspired has been heightened by their wild and fantastic dress and gestures as they advance to battle, and by their formidable weapons. They carry the long Zulu shield and both the flinging and the stabbing assegai. Their hair is plumed with feathers, and their bodies painted in fiendish devices with red and white clay. So abject is the fear entertained for these redoubtable champions among the surrounding tribes, that the mere mention of their name is enough to make a travelling party take to their heels. Livingstone found this a constant source of annoyance and delay. Twice it was the cause of reports of his death being brought home. On the last occasion, the Johanna men——natives of the Comoro Isles——who formed his escort, were seized with the infectious panic, and, abandoning him in a body, brought down to the coast the story of the explorer having been murdered in the interior. The falsity of their report was only ascertained after Mr. Edward Young had made a special expedition to the Nyassa, and learned on the spot that the intrepid missionary, in spite of the cowardly desertion of his followers, was safe and well, and still pushing forward towards his goal.

In one respect, if in no other, the Zulu “Rob Roys” of these hills have a feeling in common with the travellers and missionaries who have found their way to the Nyassa countries——they are the inveterate enemies of the slave-hunters, and will not permit these gentry to practice the arts of kidnapping and murder within reach of their spears. The eastern side of the Nyassa basin, on the other hand, is one of the principal scenes of the slave-traders’ operations. In conjunction with predatory negro tribes, such as the Ajawa on the left bank of the Shiré, they have made a wilderness of all the country between the Nyassa and the Indian Ocean. Nothing can exceed the waste and havoc they have wrought in this beautiful and fruitful land. The books of the explorers are full of details of almost incredible atrocities committed under their eyes, and which they were powerless to prevent. Whole populations have been swept into the slave-gangs and hurried down to the coast, leaving the country behind them a desert, and their path marked by the skeletons of those who have succumbed to exhaustion or the cruelty of their brutal drivers. The miserable remnant of the population roost in trees, or seek shelter in the deepest recesses of the forest: while the jungle overruns the fields of maize, cotton, manioc, and sorghum and the charred ruins of their villages.

In Livingstone’s Journals we come upon such entries as: “Passed a slave woman shot or stabbed through the body; a group, looking on, said an Arab had done it that morning in anger at losing the price he had given for her, because she was unable to walk.” “Found a number of slaves with slave sticks (logs six feet long with a cleft at one end in which the head of the unfortunate is fastened) abandoned by their master from want of food; they were too weak to speak or say where they had come from.” “It was wearisome to see the skulls and bones scattered about everywhere; one would fain not notice them, but they are so striking as one trudges along the sultry path that it cannot be avoided.” This evidence is abundantly supported by the statements of other observers. Consul Elton describes passing a caravan of three hundred slaves from the Nyassa, while travelling through the clove and gum-copal forests on the Mozambique coast. “All,” he says, “were in wretched condition. One gang of lads and women, chained together with iron neck-rings, was in a horrible state, their lower extremities coated with dry mud and torn with thorns, their bodies mere frameworks, and their skeleton limbs slightly stretched-over with parchment-like skin. One wretched woman had been flung against a tree for slipping her rope, and came screaming to us for protection, with one eye half out, and her face and bosom streaming with blood. We washed her wounds, and that was the only piece of interference on our part with the caravan, although the temptation was strong to cast all adrift, and give them at any rate a chance of starving to death peaceably in the woods.” Can it be wondered at that the pioneers of civilization and Christianity in these regions have sometimes been carried away by their feelings, and at the risk of ruining their whole plans have forcibly interfered between these Arab miscreants and their victims?

During the period to which Consul Elton’s accounts apply, it was computed that the Lake Nyassa region supplied some fifteen thousand slaves annually to the markets of Kilwa and other coast towns. Dr. Livingstone is convinced from his own observations, that, so far as regards the Shiré country, not a tenth of those who are captured survive the horrors of the land journey. It may be wondered how this waste of human life can go on and the country not to be completely depopulated. In spite, however, of their terrible losses, there is still a large population settled on the Nyassa. They have been chased down from the hills by the Mavitu and the slaver, and are huddled together on the lake margin, where their enemies can swoop down and make them an easy prey.

This dense population is, however, only found towards the southern end of Nyassa. Further north, the Mavitu have taken possession of the shore as well as the hills, and practice with equal success the vocation of pirates on the water and of robbers on land. An expedition in this direction was, till lately, certain to be attended with no small excitement and clanger. If the journey were made by land, the travellers were liable to be surprised at some point where the road was more rocky and difficult than usual, by the apparition of a wild-looking crew starting up from behind boulder or tree, and advancing with brandished spears and unearthly yells. White explorers are not accustomed to turn and flee at the first alarm. They stand, quietly awaiting the attack; and the Mavitu disconcerted at conduct so utterly unlike what they had calculated upon, run away themselves instead. If the excursion is made by water, a crowd of boats, pulled by swift rowers, will perhaps be seen putting out from a secluded bight, or from behind a wooded promontory, and giving chase to the strangers, with loud outcries to stop. The navigators of this inland sea, however, are missionaries, merchants and men of peace. They have no desire to do harm to their savage pursuers, and, secure in the speed of their little steamer and the superior range of their guns, they can afford to laugh at the attempts to capture them.

Much more serious is the danger arising from the sudden and furious storms that sweep down upon the lake from the gullies of its encircling hills. Livingstone narrowly escaped shipwreck on its waters, and from his experiences of it proposed to have Nyassa named the “Lake of Storms.” An old seaman of his party, who had been over the world, and at home had spent many a squally night off the wild coasts of Connaught and Donegal, said he had never encountered such waves as were raised in a few minutes by the tornadoes on the Nyassa. Succeeding voyagers——Young, Elton, Cotterill, Drs. Laws and Stewart, of the Scottish missions——report similar experiences. Mr. Cotterill’s little craft, the Herya, a present from the Harrow boys, was driven ashore on the western coast, June 1877, and he lost his journals, goods, and medical stores, saving only one bottle of quinine, which, remembering the fate of Livingstone and Mackenzie, he threw ashore as he neared the breakers in the darkness. The most dreaded waves on the Nyassa come rolling on in threes, “with their crests,” says Livingstone, “streaming in spray behind them.” A short lull follows each charge; and then another white-maned trio come rushing on and threaten to ingulf the voyagers and their frail bark.

A curious natural phenomenon has been noticed by most observers on the Nyassa. A light blue cloud will be observed floating for many miles over the surface of the lake, like the trailing smoke of some distant fire. When it is reached, we discover that it consists of nothing else but myriads of insects, of a species peculiar to the region, and known as the “kungo fly.” So dense is the mass that immense quantities of them are caught by the natives and pounded into cakes, resembling in size and shape a “Tam o’Shanter” bonnet. They are not particular as to what they eat, these hunger-bitten natives of the Nyassa shores. Neither are they unreasonably extravagant in the matter of dress, some of the tribes absolutely dispensing with clothes. Their notion of making up for their scanty attire by liberally anointing their bodies with rancid fish oil and hippopotamus fat, and smearing themselves with fancy designs in red and white clay, does not recommend them to the European eye and nostril. From our point of view, too, their attempts at decoration by means of tattooing are in nowise improvements, the result being to give their faces and limbs the appearance of being thickly studded with pimples. The most hideous device of all, however, is the “pelele,” or lip ring, an ornament without which no Nyassa belle would dream of appearing in public. This consists of a broad ring of tin or stone, an inch or more in diameter, inserted by slow degrees into the upper lip, causing it to stand out at right angles to its natural direction, and revealing beneath the rows of teeth sharpened to fine points like those of a saw. The native ladies of rank sometimes have a corresponding ring in the under lip, with the result that while the wearers of the single “pelele” can only lisp, the ladies of fashion are scarcely able to speak at all. Considering that these poor people have not been lavishly endowed with natural charms, the effect of their duck-like mouths may be imagined. Some handsome faces may, however, be seen among the natives of the Nyassa, and many of them, it has been observed, have regular Jewish or Assyrian features. Dr. Livingstone saw one man who bore a striking resemblance to a distinguished London actor in the part of the “Moor of Venice,” while another was the exact counterpart, in black, of the late Lord Clyde.

The magnificent alpine country at the north end of the lake is, as yet, comparatively unknown. The sole spot where there is any level ground is a great elephant marsh. Here Elton and his companions counted no fewer than three hundred of these noble animals standing knee-deep in the swamp, the elders lazily swinging their trunks and fanning themselves with their huge ears; while the juniors of the herd disported themselves in their elephantine way, rolling luxuriously in the mud, or tearing down branches of trees in the riotous enjoyment of their enormous strength.

Elton’s party enjoyed several days of most exciting elephant-stalking in the neighboring hills. Sallying out one morning into a part of the forest where the great brutes were known to abound, the herd was at length sighted; two or three of the elephants dozing under the shade of some trees, others engaged in munching branches, or shaking the boughs and picking up one by one with their trunks the berries that were scattered below. They were soon aroused from this delightful Elysium of rest and enjoyment by the hunters, who had crept up to within ten or fifteen yards unseen. Singling out the biggest elephant, a huge tusker, who stood blinking contemplatively under the shadow of a tree, Elton and his companion, Mr. Rhodes, each planted a bullet behind his shoulder. He trumpeted, staggered forward, tripped over into the rocky bed of a “nullah,” scrambled out on the other side, and there receiving another two shots, crashed down lifeless into a second dry water-course.

Chase was then given up a mountain gorge to the next largest elephant which deliberately charged back at Elton, the nearest of her pursuers. Allowing her to approach to within about three yards, he gave her a forehead shot, which turned her round; and then Rhodes “doubled her over like a rabbit.” The retreating herd were pursued to the top of the pass, where the last of the line, a big bull elephant, receiving a shot, stumbled and fell, while Elton, with “the pace on,” nearly fell on the top of him; “and,” he says, “holding my Henry rifle like a pistol, I shot him again at the root of the tail. The shock was irresistible; over the edge of the ravine he went, head foremost, the blood gushing out of his trunk, and his fall into space only broken by a stout acacia, in which he hung suspended, his fore and hind legs on either side——dead.” Still the hunt was continued, and on a second rocky slope a wounded elephant was found laboring up, supported and helped on by a friend on either side, while a fourth urged him on from behind with his forehead. This last faced round, and stood defiantly at bay, his ears “spread-eagled.” Elton’s last cartridge missed fire; Rhodes shot; a tremendous report followed; the elephant, with a groan, plunged over a cliff, and hung suspended by a thorn-tree in mid-air, like his predecessor; while Mr. Rhodes, casting his gun from him, ran down the declivity to the river, his face streaming with blood; and the survivors of the herd, toiling painfully up the mountain-side, disappeared over the sky-line, “uttering loud grumblings of disapprobation and distress.” The chamber of the rifle had burst, cutting Mr. Rhodes severely in the face; and his companion endeavored to console him by telling him that many a man at home would have given one thousand pounds for such a day’s sport, and suffered the cut in the forehead into the bargain.

Such sport is, however, getting every day more difficult to obtain; for this lordly animal, the true “king of beasts,” is retreating before the march of civilization, and becoming gradually more scarce even in the African solitudes. This is not to be wondered at, considering the vast numbers——probably from fifteen thousand to twenty thousand——that are killed annually for the sake of their ivory.

It may be remarked that Elton’s escape from the elephant’s charge was a remarkably close one. There is only one other instance known of the “forehead shot” being effectual in stopping the course of an African elephant. This adventure happened in the Abyssinian highlands to Sir Samuel Baker. That mighty hunter was at the time new to African sport, and imagining that planting a bullet in the forehead, the favorite method with hunters of the wild elephant of India and Ceylon, would be equally effectual in the case of his big-eared kinsman of Central Africa, he awaited the charge of an elephant until she was within five yards of the muzzle of his rifle. The bullet happened to strike a vulnerable spot in the skull, and dropped the animal dead; but the lookers-on for several moments regarded the hunter as a dead man.

In both these cases the elephant shot was a female, which possesses in a less marked degree than the male the solid structure of skull that, along with their immense ears, convex foreheads, and greater size, distinguish the African from the Asiatic variety. When not struck in a vital spot, the elephant is remarkably tenacious of life; and Livingstone tells how he fired twelve bullets into one that had fallen into a hole, and had about a hundred native spears sticking in him, and next morning found that the animal had scrambled out and escaped into the forest. Perhaps the most perilous experience that ever befell a white hunter when after elephants occurred to Mr. Oswell, far to the southward, on the banks of the Zouga. Chasing an elephant through a thorny thicket on horseback, he suddenly found the animal had wheeled round and was bearing straight down upon him. Attempting to turn his horse, he was thrown, face downwards, before the elephant. Twisting round, he saw the huge fore foot about to descend on his legs, parted them, and drew in his breath, expecting the other foot to be planted on his body; but saw the whole of the “under-side” of the huge creature pass over him, and rose unhurt to his feet, saved almost by miracle.

But this has carried us far away from the elephant marsh, from the borders of which Messrs. Elton, Cotterill, Rhodes, and Hoste made their ascent of the mountain barrier of Nyassa. The lowest pass over the Konde, or Livingstone range, is eight thousand eight hundred feet above sea-level; and the ascent embraces every variety of climate and scenery, from stifling tropical swamp to breezy moorlands of fern and bracken, carpeted with wild thyme, daisies, dandelions, and buttercups, like our hills at home. From the top a magnificent landscape is viewed. Elton says: “The country we have passed through is without exception the finest tract in Africa I have yet seen. Towards the east we were walled in with mountains rising to a height of from twelve to fourteen thousand feet, inclosing undulating, well-watered valleys, lovely woodland slopes, hedged-in fields, and knolls dotted with native hamlets. There is nothing to equal it either in fertility or in grazing land in Natal, the reputed ‘garden of South Africa.’ It is the most exceptionally favorable country for semi-tropical cultivation I have ever seen.”

A serious obstacle to the development of this beautiful highland region is probably the exceptionally deadly climate of the country through which it must be approached. Already many precious lives have been sacrificed in the attempt to open up the Nyassa. Livingstone got here his “death-sentence.” The German Roscher, who, travelling in the guise of an Arab from the east coast, viewed the lake only two months later than the great missionary, was basely murdered at a little village near its shores. Bishop Mackenzie is buried in the Shiré swamps; and near him lie nearly the whole staff of the University Mission to this region, all stricken down with marsh fever. Thornton, the intrepid companion of Livingstone on his first visit to the Nyassa, after having ascended half-way up the snow-capped mountain Kilimandjaro, far to the northward, returned to this quarter, only to die at the foot of the Murchison Rapids. Mrs. Livingstone, the devoted wife of the missionary, rests under a gigantic baobab tree a little way below the Shiré mouth; and near her grave is that of Kirkpatrick, of the Zambesi Survey Expedition of 1826. Another baobab, in Ugogo, shades the resting-place of Consul Elton, whom we have just seen full of life and hope, at the head of the pass overhanging the north end of the lake. Only a few marches to the northward of the pass, while toiling across a droughty plain, and weak from hunger and fever, he succumbed to sunstroke, and a most useful and promising career closed at the early age of thirty-seven. Still younger was Mr. Keith Johnston, who died from dysentery, while leading an expedition from Zanzibar territory to Nyassa. Dr. Black is buried on Cape Maclear, the rocky promontory cleaving the southern end of the lake, where the Free Church of Scotland Mission Station of Livingstonia has been planted; and the little cemetery contains many other graves of white persons.

The Scottish mission stations on the Shiré and Lake Nyassa are not the only outposts which Christianity has planted in the far interior of the “Dark Continent.” Similar colonies, for the moral improvement and industrial training of the natives of Africa, have been placed on the shores of the Victoria Nyanza and Tanganyika by the London and University Missionary Societies. The example is being followed by similar associations in France and America; and the Zambesi country has been mapped out for a renewal of the long-abandoned work of the Jesuit fathers. Science, commerce, and philanthropy have enlisted by the side of religion in the task of opening up Africa. The chief outlets of the slave-trade have at length, it is hoped, been closed, thanks mainly to the efforts of England, and the hearty co-operation of the government of Portugal, Egypt and Zanzibar.

AFRICAN RESOURCES.

Though the coasts of Africa lie within sight of the most civilized countries, its depths are still mysteries. Though the valley of the Nile was, in the earliest ages of history, the seat of commerce, the arts and sciences, it is only now that we read of a new source for that sacred stream in Lake Edward Nyanza.

This wonderful continent, the Negroland of our school books, the marvel of modern times as the light of exploration pierces its forests and reveals its lakes, rivers and peoples, is a vast peninsula, triangular in shape, containing 12,300,000 square miles. This vast area renders a conception of its geographic details difficult, yet by taking several plain views of it, the whole may be brought out so that one can grasp it with a fair degree of intelligence. One way to look at it is to regard the entire seacoast as the rind of the real Africa. Follow its Mediterranean boundary on the north, its Red Sea and Indian Ocean boundary on the east, its Atlantic Ocean boundary on the south and west, and the lowland rind is always present, in some places quite thin, in others many miles thick.

This rind, low, swampy, reedy, channeled by oozy creeks, or many mouthed rivers, is the prelude to something wholly different within. On the north, north-east and north-west, we know it introduces us to the barren Sahara. In all other parts it introduces us to an upland Africa, which, for height and variety of plateaus, has no equal in the world. These plateaus are variegated with immense mountain chains, like those of the Atlas, the Moon, the Kong, the Gupata, and those just revealed by Stanley extending between the two great lakes Albert Nyanza and Victoria Nyanza, and to a height of 18,000 feet, fully 6,000 of which are clad in perpetual snow, even though lying under the Equator. Here too are those vast stretches of water which vie in size and depth with the lake systems of any other continent, and which feed mighty rivers, even though evaporation be constantly lifting their volume into the tropical air. No traveler has ever looked with other than awe upon those superb lakes Albert Nyanza, Edward Nyanza, Victoria Nyanza, Tanganyika, Leopold II., Nyassa, Bangweola, and dozens of smaller ones whose presence came upon him like a revelation. And then out of these plateaus, thousands of feet high, run all those mighty rivers which constitute the most unique and mightiest water system in the world——the Zambezi, the Congo, the Niger, the Senegal and the Nile.

This would be Africa in a general sense. But in view of the importance of this opening continent, we must get a fuller view of it. The Africa of antiquity and of the Middle Ages extended from the Red Sea to the Atlantic and from the Mediterranean to the land of the Berbers, and other strange, if not mythical peoples. It embraced Egypt, Nubia and Abyssinia on the east. On the north it was skirted by the Barbary States. But its great, appalling feature was the great desert of Sahara, forbidden to Greek or Roman, Persian or Egyptian, till the Arab came on his camel, and with the flaming sword of Mohammed in hand, to pierce its waste places and make traffic possible amid its sandy wastes.

South of the Western Sahara is a fairly defined section extending from Timbuctoo to the Gulf of Guinea, or in other words nearly to the Equator. It is divided by the Kong chain of mountains, and embraces the water systems of the Senegal and Niger Rivers. This was the part of Africa which first drew European enterprise after Portugal and Spain became the world’s sailors, and began to feel their way toward the Cape of Good Hope. Three hundred years ago it was what Central Africa is to-day, a wonderland full of venturesome travelers, a source of national jealousy, a factor in European politics, a starting point for a thousand theories respecting colonization and of as many enterprises having for their object the introduction of commerce, the arts and Christianity among the natives, who were by no means as peaceably inclined as in the present day. As other natives came to find out something of the commercial value of the Senegal and Niger countries, they stepped in to get their share of the honor and profit of possession, and so this part of Africa was partitioned, till we find on the Atlantic, south of the Niger, the British colony of Sierra Leone, the kingdoms of Ashantee and Dahomey, the republic of Liberia, the coast towns of the Bight of Benin, and the strong French possessions lying just north of the Congo and extending indefinitely inland.

Back of this section, and extending south of the Sahara, to the head-waters of the Nile, is the great central basin whose waters converge in the vast estuary known as Lake Tchad. It may be somewhat vaguely termed the Soudan region, which is divided into Northern and Equatorial Soudan, the former being the seat of the recent uprising of the Mahdi, and the latter the center of the kingdom which Emin Pasha sought to wrest from Mohammedan grasp. Along the Indian Ocean coast, from Cape Guardafui to Mozambique, is a lowland stretch from two to three hundred miles wide, watered by small, sluggish rivers which find their way into the Indian Sea.

Passing down the eastern side of the continent, we come to the immense basin of the Zambezi, second only in extent to that of the Congo, stretching almost to the Atlantic coast, seat of mighty tribes like the Macololos, teeming with commercial possibilities, and even now a source of such envy between England and Portugal as to raise a question of war. South of the Zambezi comes the great Kalahari desert as a balance to the northern Sahara, and then that fringe of civilization embraced in Transvaal, the Orange Free State, Cape Colony, and so around till the Portuguese kingdoms of Benguela and Angola are reached, all of whose waters run by short courses to the sea. These great natural divisions comprise the entire area of the African continent except that vast equatorial basin drained by the Congo.

This mighty region, the Central Africa of to-day, is now largely embraced in the new Congo Free State. To the south of the mouth of the Congo is the State of Angola, and to the north, the State of Congo, claimed by the French. The great river was originally called the Zaire, and by some the Livingstone. Its first, or ocean, section extends from Banana Point to Boma, a distance of 70 miles, and is in fact an arm of the sea. Thence, upward to Vivi, a distance of 40 miles, there is a deep, broad channel, with a moderate current. Vivi is the head of the lower river navigation, being at the foot of the cataracts, which extend for over 200 miles through a system of cañons, with more than fifty falls of various heights. They are known as Livingstone Falls, and have stretches of navigable water between them. After the cataracts are passed, Stanley Pool is reached, where are the towns of Leopoldville, Kinshassa and others, founded recently as trading or missionary stations. The vertical descent of the river from the broad, tranquil expanse of Stanley Pool to the level at Vivi, is about 1,000 feet, and from thence to the sea fully 250 feet more. Stanley Pool, or basin, is about 20 miles long and nearly 10 broad, and is filled with low wooded islands, natural homes for hippopotami, crocodiles, elephants, and all tropical animals. From Leopoldville to Stanley Falls there is uninterrupted navigation, and the distance is 1,068 miles, with a comparatively straight course and a vertical descent of four inches to the mile. Stanley Falls 1,511 feet above the sea level. The affluents of the river below Stanley Falls present a navigable surface estimated at 4,000 miles. In the wide and elevated portion of the river above Stanley Falls it is known as the Lualaba. Its course is now nearly north, and it was this fact that deceived Livingstone into the belief that he was on the Nile. This portion, though abounding in vast lake stretches and rich in affluents, is navigable only for shallow craft. It drains a fertile country whose centre is Nyangwe, the best-known market town of Central Africa and the capital of Tippoo Tib’s dominions, the conqueror of the Manyuema, and the craftiest of all the Arab potentates in Central Africa.

To the east of the Upper Congo, or Lualaba, is a magnificent stretch of grass country, extending to Lake Tanganyika, whose waters flow into the Congo, making a descent of 1,200 feet in 200 miles. As the western shores of that lake rise fully 2,500 feet, this region becomes a sort or Switzerland in tropical Africa. North and east of Tanganyika, are the Nile sources, in Lakes Albert, Edward and Victoria Nyanza——a fertile and populous region, fitted by nature for her thriftiest and best peoples. Thus we have Africa again mapped, and her grandest portion embraced in the Congo State, with its 1,500,000 square miles, its countless population, its abundance of navigable streams, its remarkably fertile soil, its boundless forests, all its requisites for the demands of an advanced civilization.

To the naturalist Africa opens a field for research equalled by no other continent. The whole organic world offers no such number of giant animal and plant forms. It unfolds five times as many quadrupeds as Asia, and three times as many as the Americas. Its colossal hippopotami, huge giraffes, infinite variety of antelopes, and water-bucks, the curious diving sheep, or goat, called the Quichobo, long armed apes, fierce sokos, and swarms of sprightly monkeys, excel those of Asia in size. That mammoth bird, the ostrich, whose feathers delight our modern slaves of fashion, is exclusively indigenous to Africa. The Arab may have brought the camel from the deserts of Sinai, but Africa has made a home for it. Africa is the habitat of the rhinoceros, elephant, lion, panther, leopard, ounce, jackal, hyena, wolf, fox, dog, cat, bat, rat, hare, rabbit, bear, horse, ass, zebra, sheep, with wool and without, goat, buffalo, gazelle, cattle of all kinds, some of them the finest specimens in nature, deer of the fallow type, which put to shame the sleek breeds of European parks.

The birds are equally numberless as to variety. There are eagles, hawks, flamingoes, kingfishers, many varieties of parrots, peacocks, partridges, pheasants, widow and cardinal birds, weavers, cuckoos, doves, pigeons, ducks, geese, and crown-birds, the plumage of the last being the most beautiful of the feathered tribe. The reptilia embraces crocodiles, the python, the boa and hundreds of smaller snakes, some harmless and some highly venomous. The rivers and lakes swarm with fish, though the variety is not so great as in more northern waters. The forests and the earth swarm with termites and ants of great variety, which draw after them a host of ant-eaters of the armadillo type; and at times spiders, caterpillars, and armies of locusts infest the trees or darken the sun. Insect life knows no limit in Africa——some the most beautiful, some the most horrid. The tsetse fly is no less a torment to cattle than the “devil of the road” is to the woe-begone traveler. And everywhere, especially in tropical Africa, vegetation has a force and vigor peculiar to that continent. Nature seems to rejoice in unfolding her strength through the seeds deposited in the soil. “Some fifty and some an hundred fold” is the law of increase, when the least care is given to planting and cultivation. Maize produces two crops a year. Tree life is gigantic, and the variety of wood infinite. Of the picturesque trees, the boabab, or monkey bread-fruit tree, whose crown of green sometimes forms a circle of over 100 feet, takes a front rank, followed by the ceiba, with its stem of 60 feet and its rich crown of foliage extending fully 60 feet further.

All of torrid Africa revels in plants and fruits of the most nutritious and medicinal quality, suited to the wants and well-being of the people. There is both food and medicine in the fruits of the palm, banana, orange, shaddock, pine-apple, tamarind, and the leaves and juice of the boabab. The butter-tree gives not only butter, but a fine medicine. The ground-nut yields in six weeks from the planting. The natives produce for eating, wheat, corn, rice, barley, millet, yams, lotus berries, gum, dates, figs, sugar, and various spices, and for drink, coffee, palm-wine, cocoanut milk and Cape wine. No less than five kinds of pepper are known, and the best indigo is produced, along with other valuable dyes. Cotton, hemp and flax are raised for clothing.

It has always been a fiction that Africa contained more gold than any other continent. The “gold coast” was a temptation to venturesome pioneers for a long time. Precisely how rich in minerals the “dark continent” is, remains to be proved. But it is known that iron abounds in many places, that saltpetre and emery exist in paying quantities, that amber is found on the coasts, and that diamonds are plenty in the Kimberly region. That the continent is rich in useful minerals may be taken for granted, but as these things are not perceptible to the naked eye, time must bring the proof.

Various estimates have been put upon the population of Africa. Stanley estimated the population of the Congo basin at 50,000,000. The Barbary States we know are very populous. Africa has in all probability contributed twenty-five millions of slaves to other countries within two-hundred and fifty years without apparent diminution of her own population.

So she must be not only very populous but very prolific. It would be safe to estimate her people at 200,000,000, counting the Ethiopic or true African race, and the Caucasian types, which embrace the Nubians, Abyssinians, Copts and Arabs. The Arabs are not aborigines, yet have forced themselves, with their religion, into all of Northern and Central Africa, and their language is the leading one wherever they have obtained a foot-hold. The Berber and Shelluh tongues are used in the Barbary States. The Mandingo speech is heard from the Senegal to the Joliba. On the southwestern coast there is a mixture of Portuguese. Among the true natives the languages spoken are as numerous as the tribes themselves. In the Sahara alone there are no less than forty-three dialects. Mr. Guinness, of London, president of the English Baptist Missionary Society operating in Africa, says there are 600 languages spoken in Africa, belonging principally to the great Soudanese group.

Of the human element in Africa, we present the summary given by Rev. Geo. L. Taylor. He says:——“Who and what are the races occupying our New Africa? The almost universally accepted anthropology of modern science puts Japheth (the Aryans), Shem (the Semites), and Ham (the Hamites), together as the Caucasian race or variety (not species) of mankind; and makes the Ugrians, the Mongols, the Malays and the Negroes (and some authorities make other divisions also) each another separate variety of the one common species and genus homo, man.

“Leaving the radical school of anthropology out of the question, it cannot be denied that the vast preponderance of conservative scientific opinion is, at least, to this effect, namely: While the Berbers (including the Twareks, Copts and Tibbus) are Hamitic, but differentiated toward the Semitic stock, the true Negroes are also probably Hamitic, but profoundly differentiated in the direction of some other undetermined factor, and the Ethiopians or Abyssinians are an intermediate link between the Caucasian Hamite and the non-Caucasian Negro, with also a prehistoric Semite mixture from southern Arabia. Barth, whose work is a mine of learning on the Soudan, concededly the best authority extant on the subject, says that while the original population of the Soudan was Negro, as was all the southern edge of the Sahara, nevertheless the Negro has been crowded southward along the whole line by the Moor (a mixt Arab) in the west, by the Berber (including both Twareks and Tibbus) in the centre, and by the Arab in the east. Timbuctoo is a city of Berber, not of Negro origin, founded before the Norman conquest of England, since conquered by Moors, and now ruled by the Fulbé, or Fellatah, who are neither Moor, Berber, Arab, nor Negro but a distinct race between the Arab and Berber on the one side and the Negro stock on the other, and whose language and physiognomy, and only semi-woolly hair, are more Mongoloid or Kaffir than Negro; but who are the most intelligent, energetic and rapidly becoming the most powerful people in the Soudan, and whose influence is now felt from Senegambia to Baghirmi, through half a dozen native states. In all the Niger basin only the Mandingo and the Tombo countries about the head of the Joliba, or Niger, are now ruled by pure Negro dynasties, the former being a splendid and capable jet-black people, probably the finest purely Negro race yet known to Europeans. In the central Soudan the Kanuri of Kanem and Bornu came to Kanem as a conquering Tibbu-Berber stock over 500 years ago, and are now Negroid. Farther east Tibbu and Arab are the ruling elements. Haussa, Sokoto and Adamawa are now Fellatah States. The southward pressure of Moor, Twarek, Tibbu and Arab is still going on; and the Fulbé, in the midst of the native states, is rapidly penetrating them, subverting the few native Negro dynasties still existing, and creating a new and rising race and power that is, at any rate, not Negro. Thus ancient Nigritia is rapidly ceasing to be “Negroland,” the races being more and more mixt, and newer and ruling elements of Moor, Berber and Arab constantly flowing in. This is the testimony of a long line of scholars from Barth down to Prof. A. H. Keane, author of the learned article on “Soudan,” in the Encyclopedia Britannica.

“The people commonly considered Negro, in Africa, consist mainly of three great stocks——the Nigritians of the Soudan, the great Bantu stock reaching from the southern bounds of the Soudan to the southern rim of the Zambesi basin, and the great Zulu stock. All these differ widely from each other in physiology, languages, arts and customs. The Nigritians are declining under Arab and Berber pressure; the Zulus, a powerful and semi-Negro race, are rapidly extending their conquests northward beyond the Zambesi into east central Africa. The Bantus are mainly agriculturists. They fill the Congo basin, and extend eastward to the Indian Ocean, between Uganda (which is Bantu) and Unyanyembé. They have only recently been discovered, and are not yet much studied by Europeans.

“But not all so-called Negroes are true Negroes. As for the eastern highland regions of the two Niles, and thence southward from the Abyssinians and the Shillooks at Khartoum to the Bari of Gondokoro and the Waganda of Uganda——the Niam-Niam of Monbuttoo, the Manyuema of the Lualaba, and the Makololo on the Zambesi——the ruling and paramount native tribes are Negroid, but not Negro, unless our ordinary conception of the Negro is a good deal revised. As Livingstone says of the Makololo, so of all these, they are a “coffee-and-milk color;” or we may say all these peoples are from a dark coffee-brown to brownish-white, like coffee, depending on the amount of milk added. They are mostly tall, straight, leanish, wiry, active, of rather regular features, fair agriculturists and cattle-raisers, with much mechanical capacity, born merchants and traders, and almost everywhere hold darker and more truly negro tribes in slavery to themselves, where any such tribes exist. Where they have none or few domestic animals for meat, they are frequently cannibals. In the middle Congo basin the tribes are more truly Negro, and here the true Negroes are freemen, independent and capable, though in a somewhat low state of development. But, so far as now known, the true Negro, in an independent condition, holds and rules but a comparatively small part of Africa. As to capability for improvement these peoples——the Negroid races at least and probably the Negroes——are as apt and civilizable as any Caucasian or Mongolian people have originally been, if we consider how their geographical and climatic isolation has hitherto cut them off from the rest of the world and the world from them. We know that if we leave Revelation out of the account, all Caucasian civilization, whether Aryan, Semitic, or Hamitic, can be traced backward till, just on the dawn of history, it narrows down to small clans or families, with whom the light began and from whom it spread. We know the same, also, as to the non-Caucasian Chinese and Nahua civilizations of Asia and America. Had the spread of the germs of these civilizations been prevented by conditions like those in Africa, who shall say that the stage of development might not be about the same to-day? There seems to be but one uncivilizable race——if, indeed, they are such——in Africa; and that is the dwarfs. The Akka, found by Schweinfurth south of the Welle, called themselves “Betua,” the same word as the “Batua” on the Kassai. The dwarfs of the upper Zambesi call themselves by a similar word, and so with the Bushmen in South Africa. Many things go to prove that these dwarf nations are all one race, the diminutive remnants of a primeval stock of one of the lowest types of man, who have never risen above the hunter stage of life. They have been scattered, and almost exterminated, by the incoming of the powerful Bantu stock, that is now spread from the Soudan to Zululand. These dwarfs are the best living examples of similar races once scattered over Europe and Asia, whose real existence lies at the bottom of all the lore of fairies, brownies, elfs, gnomes, etc. They constitute one of the most pregnant subjects of study in all anthropology. They are seemingly always uncivilizable.”

In his “Africa in a Nutshell,” Rev. Geo. Thompson thus sketches the country, especially the central belt:——

“The Central Belt of Africa——say from 15° north to 15° south of the equator, about 2,000 miles in width——is, heavily-timbered, of the jungle nature. There are numerous large trees (one to six feet through, and 50 to 150 feet high) with smaller ones, and bushes intermingled, while vines of various kinds intertwine, from bottom to top, making progress through them, except in paths, very difficult. Only experience can give a realizing idea of an African forest——of the tangle, and the density of its shade.

“While traveling through them, even in the dry season, when the sun shines brightest, one cannot see or feel the warming rays. The leaves drip with the dews of the night, and the traveler becomes chilled, and suffers exceedingly.

“But the whole country is not now covered with such forests. They are found in places, from ten to twenty-five miles in extent, where the population is sparse, but the larger portion of the country has been cleared off and cultivated; and, while much of it is in crops all the time, other large patches are covered with bushes, of from one to three years’ growth——for they clear off a new place every year. The farm of this year is left to grow up to bushes two or three years, to kill out the grass, and then it is cleared off again. Thus, in thickly settled portions of the country, but little large timber is found, except along rivers, or on mountains. Such is the country north of the Gulf of Guinea, to near the Desert.

“The people are numerous, and the cities larger (the largest cities in Africa; they are from one to six miles through), and much of the country is under cultivation. And so of the central portion of Africa, in the vicinity of Lake Tchad.

“But in that portion of Africa lying 500 miles south and north of the Equator, and from the Atlantic Coast, 1,000 miles eastward, the jungle and heavy forests are the most extensive, and towns farther between, and not so large.

“This is the home of the gorilla, which grows from five to six feet high, of powerful build, and with arms that can stretch from seven to nine feet; a formidable enemy to meet. It is also the home of that wonderfully varied and gigantic animal life——elephants, lions, leopards, zebras, giraffes, rhinoceri, hippopotami, crocodile etc., which distinguishes African Zoology from that of every other continent.

“This central belt of Africa is capable of sustaining a vast population. It can be generally cultivated, and its resources are wonderful. The soil is productive. The seasons are favorable, and crops can be kept growing the year through.

“Rice, of three or four kinds and of excellent quality, Indian corn, three kinds of sweet potatoes, beans, peanuts, melons, squashes, tomatoes, ginger, pepper, arrowroot, coffee, sugar cane, yams, cocoa, casada, and other grains and vegetables, besides all tropical fruits, are cultivated.

“The coffee is a wild forest tree, growing seventy-five feet high and eighteen inches through. It is also cultivated largely in Liberia. Many of the people have from 100 to 1,000 acres of coffee trees.

“The Liberian coffee is of such superior quality and productiveness, that millions of plants have been sent to Java and old coffee countries, for seed. Its fame is already world-wide. The wild coffee is as good as any, but the bean is smaller. And new settlements soon become self-supporting by the culture of coffee. Sugar cane is also raised, and much sugar is made in this colony. Many steam sugar mills are in operation on St. Paul’s River and at other places.

“On the Gulf of Guinea the people are quite generally raising cotton and shipping it to England. Hundreds of cotton presses and gins have been bought, and used by them, and Africa will yet be the greatest cotton, coffee and sugar country in the world. All nations can be supplied therefrom.

“Cotton is cultivated, in small quantities, in widely-extended portions of Africa, and manufactured into cloth which is very durable. They also make leather of a superior quality.

“Gold, copper, coal, the richest iron ore in the world, and other valuable metals are abundant; from them the natives manufacture their tools, ornaments and many things of interest. Ivory, hides, gums, rubber, etc., are abundant. It is said that 50,000 elephants are killed yearly, for their ivory, in Africa.

“The country only needs development; and the many exploring parties from Europe, who are penetrating every part, seeking trade, will aid in opening its boundless treasures. Gold-mining companies are operating on the Gulf of Guinea, with paying results.

“And the natives secure and sell to the merchants large amounts of gold, in form of rough, large rings. They make fine gold ornaments, and wear vast quantities.

“This trade with Interior Africa, so eagerly sought, will soon lead to railroads, in different directions——from Liberia to the Niger, and across to Zanzibar from South Africa; and in other directions. The work is begun, and will not stop.

“The French and the English are planning for railroads in different directions. The former are building one from Senegal to Timbuctoo.

“The nations of Europe are, to-day, in a strife to secure the best locations for trade with this rich country. And soon there will be no more ‘unexplored regions.’

“The coasts on the west and east are generally low and unhealthy. But the interior is higher, and will be more suited to the white man.

“It is, in the main, an elevated table-land, from 1,000 to 6,000 feet above the sea, variegated with peaks and mountains, from 3,000 to 20,000 feet high, snow-capped, and with valleys and broad plains, hot springs, and salt pans, and innumerable springs, inlets and streams.

“In some regions, for a distance often to twenty miles, there is a scarcity of water in the dry season. Other places are flat plains, which are overflowed in the rainy season, so they cannot be inhabited or cultivated, except in the dry season. And such localities are unhealthy.

“But by far the greater part of the country is capable of being inhabited and cultivated——with an abundance of timber of many kinds, suitable for all the purposes of civilization, for boats, houses, wagons, furniture and implements——but all different from anything in America. Some kinds are equal to fine mahogany.

“This central portion of Africa is blessed with numerous large lakes, three large rivers, and many smaller.

“The Niger rises 200 miles back of Liberia, runs northeasterly, to near Timbuctoo, then southward to the Gulf of Guinea. It is already navigated for hundreds of miles by English steamers.

“In fourteen years the exports have increased from $150,000 to $10,000,000; trading factories from two to fifty-seven; and steamers from two to twenty, and other boats.

“The Binué is a large branch coming in from the eastward.

“And the Congo, rising nearly 15° south of the equator, runs through various lakes, making a northward course for more than 1,000 miles, to 2-1/2° north of the equator, then bends westward and southwesterly to the Atlantic; being from one to sixteen miles wide, and very deep; filled with inhabited islands and abounding in magnificent scenery. The banks along the rapids rise from 100 to 1,200 feet high. It freshens the ocean for six miles from land, and its course can be seen in the ocean for thirty-six miles.

“There are two series of rapids in it——a great obstacle to navigation——but the desire for trade will overcome these.

“The first series of rapids commences about 100 miles from the sea, and extends some 200 miles in falls and cascades——with smoother stretches between——to Stanley Pool. There are thirty-two of these falls. From thence is a broad, magnificent river, with no obstruction for nearly 1,000 miles, to the next series of rapids at Stanley Falls. From this, again, is another long stretch of navigable river. It pours nearly five times the amount of water of the Mississippi.

“Between Lake Bangweola and Stanley Pool, the Congo falls 2,491 feet; between the pool and ocean, 1,147 feet, making 3,638 feet in all.

“The Nile falls over 1,200 feet between Victoria and Albert Lakes, and 2,200 from Albert to the sea.

“Most of the rivers which rise in the interior of Africa have heavy fall.

“Then there are numerous large rivers emptying into the Congo, on each side, which can be ascended far into the interior. Those on the north can be easily connected with the head waters of the Gaboon River, and those on the south with the head waters of the Zambesi, emptying into the Indian Ocean; and on the east, with Lake Tanganyika.

“It will be seen that the Congo River will be of vast importance in the development of Africa. A railroad will soon be built around the falls, to connect with the steamers above.

“The soil of Upper Congo is very rich, the forests are exceedingly valuable, the climate quite favorable, and the people numerous and kind.

“A few years ago the trade of the Congo was only a few thousand dollars yearly. It is now, so soon, from $10,000,000 to $20,000,000 a year. Trading houses and steamers are multiplying.

“The Congo Valley contains over 5,000 miles of navigable river and lake. The nations can be supplied from this region with cotton, coffee, sugar, gum copal, ivory, rubber, valuable dyes, iron, gold, copper, and many other things——when it shall be civilized and a market formed.

“Many are running to and fro, and knowledge is being rapidly increased in those parts.

“Then there are the rivers Senegal, Gambia (navigable for 200 miles), Sierra Leone, Calabar, etc.

“The lakes are numerous, from the size of Lake Michigan, or larger, to those covering only a few square miles.

“Lake Tchad, in the centre of the continent, is nearly the size of Lake Michigan, with marshy surroundings, from which as yet no outlet has been discovered, though the Tshaddi, or River Binué, may be found to be the outlet of this lake.

“In Central East Africa is a lake system of vast extent. Victoria Nyanza is about 250 miles long, surrounded mostly with hills and mountains, from 300 to 6,000 feet high. It contains many islands, and numerous large rivers empty into it. It is nearly 4,000 feet above the sea, and, with its rivers, constitutes the principal and most southern source of the Nile. The equator crosses its northern end. It is nearly as large as Lake Superior.

“West of this, about 200 miles, is the Albert Nyanza, 400 miles long, and 2,720 feet above the level of the sea. This receives the outlet of the Victoria; and from this the Nile bursts forth, a large river, and runs its course of nearly 3,000 miles to the Mediterranean Sea.

“Albert is nearly three times as large as Lake Erie.

“South and west of these two lakes are numerous smaller ones——some of them very beautiful——all emptying into the Victoria Nyanza, or “Big Water.”

“South of these, and separated by a mountain ridge, is Lake Tanganyika, 380 miles long and very deep, from twelve to forty miles wide, surrounded by mountains 2,000 to 5,000 feet high. It is 2,756 feet above the sea. Till about 1875 it was an internal sea, receiving large rivers, but having no outlet, as proven by Stanley, who circumnavigated it on purpose to settle this point. But near midway, on the west, was a low place, where the bank was only three feet above the water. And here, after steadily rising for ages, it broke over, and cut a channel to the Congo, into which it now empties, in a deep, rapid stream.

“West and south of this is a series of lakes, connected with the great Congo River. The most southerly, in latitude 13° or 14°, is Bangweola, about 175 miles long and sixty wide. (Dr. Livingstone, in his last journey, crossed this from the north and died in the marsh on its southern border, May 4, 1873.) This empties into Lake Moero, nearly 3,000 feet above the sea.

“North and west of this are a number of other lakes, all emptying into and swelling the mighty Congo.

“Northeast of Victoria are other large lakes, as reported by the natives, but not yet accurately delineated. Thomson has lately discovered one 6,000 feet above the sea.

“Southeast of Tanganyika, about 250 miles, is Nyassa Lake, 300 miles long, first definitely described by Dr. Livingstone. This is 1,800 feet above the sea. There is a small steamer on this lake——as also on Victoria and Tanganyika. And steamers are briskly plying up and down the Congo.

“Ere many years there will be a railroad from Nyassa to Tanganyika——an easy route——and from Zanzibar to the great lakes——a more difficult route. The pressing demands of trade insure these results. A wagon road is already partly constructed between the two lakes, making a speedier, safer and easier route to the interior via Zambesi and Shiré Rivers, Lakes Nyassa and Tanganyika, with a land carriage of only seventy-five miles between the rapids on the Shiré and Lake Nyassa.”

That portion of Africa below the tropics, and known in general as South Africa, has resources of animal, forest, soil, climate, water and mineral which have proved inviting to Europeans, though there is nothing to render them any more acceptable than similar features as found in other sub-tropical or temperate latitudes, excepting, perhaps, the peculiar mineral deposits in the Kimberly section, which yield diamonds of great value, and a richness of animal life which formerly proved fascinating to the hunter and adventurer.

The belt extending clear across the continent from Angola and Benguela, south of the Congo, to the mouth of the Zambesi, and which is a water shed between the Congo basin and rivers running southward, till the great valley of the Zambesi is reached, has all the peculiarities of soil, climate, forest and people found in the Congo basin. Its tribes, according to Pinto, are of the same general type as those further north. The rivers abound in hippopotami and crocodiles, the forests in antelope and buffaloes, elephants, lions and wild birds. There is the same endless succession of wooded valleys and verdure clad plains, and the same products under cultivation. The natives are if anything better skilled in the uses of iron, and are more ingenious in turning it to domestic account, as in the manufacture of utensils, traps and other conveniences. They are natural herdsmen, dress better, at least more fantastically, perpetuate all of the native superstitions, and are more confirmed traders, having for a longer time been in remote contact with the Portuguese influence penetrating the Zambesi, and extending inland from Loanda and Benguela.

We therefore turn to Equatorial, or Central Africa, in quest of those resources which are distinguishing, and which give to the continent its real value in commercial eyes. And in so doing, there is no authority superior to that of Stanley, whose opportunity for observation has been greatest. We can readily detect in his narrative the enthusiasm of a pioneer, but at the same time must feel persuaded that fuller and more exact research, and, especially the supreme trial to which commercial development puts all things natural, will far more than verify his first impressions.

This Africa is typed by the Congo Basin, which stretches practically across Africa, interweaving with the Zambesi water system on the south and the Nile system on the north. The Congo is the feature of its basin, and the kernel of the greatest commercial problem of the age. To understand it, is to understand more of African resource than any other natural object furnishes. It has its maritime region, which is the African rind before alluded to. This region extends from Banana Point at the mouth of the great river to Boma, seventy miles from the sea, and the river passes through it in the form of a broad deep estuary. At Boma the hilly, mountainous region commences, the groups of undulations rising gradually to a height of 2000 feet above the sea. The river is still navigable in this region, up to Vivi, 110 miles from the sea, though the channel is reduced to a width of 1500 yards. From Vivi to Isangila, a distance of fifty miles, is the lower series of Livingstone Falls. From Isangila to Manyanga is a navigable stretch of eighty-eight miles. Then comes the upper series of Livingstone Falls, extending for eighty-five miles, from Manyanga to Leopoldville, on Stanley Pool. This practically brings the mighty flood through the mountainous region of 240 miles in width, and opens a navigable stretch of 1068 miles, extending from Stanley Pool to Stanley Falls. From Stanley Falls to Nyangwe, in the fruitful country of the Manyuema, a nation in themselves, and notorious in Central Africa for their valor and cruelty in war, is a course of 385 miles, navigable for light craft. From Nyangwe to Lake Moero the river course is 440 miles. This lake is sixty-seven miles long. Thence is a river stretch of 220 miles to Lake Bangweola which is 161 miles long. It then begins to lose itself in its head waters in the Chibalé Hills, though its main affluent here, the Chambesi, has a length of 360 miles. This gives a total length of main stream equal to 3034 miles. It divides itself into five geographic sections; the maritime section, from the sea to Leopoldville; the Upper Congo section, extending from Leopoldville to Stanley Falls; the Lualaba (so called by Livingstone) section from Stanley Falls to the Chambesi; the Chambesi, or head water section; and the Tanganyika section.

The first section, which includes the really maritime and the mountainous, is, in its lower part next to the sea, but thinly populated, owing to the slave trade and the effect of internal wars. But the natives are, as a rule, tractable and amenable to improvement and discipline. They are industrious and perfectly willing to hire themselves as porters. In its mountainous part, the country is composed of swells of upland separated by gorges and long, winding water courses, showing that the land has been gradually stripped for centuries of its rich loam by the tropical rains. On the uplands are groves of palm and patches of tropical forest. In the hollows are rich vegetable products, so thick as to be impenetrable. The round-nut, palm-nut, rubber, gum-copal, orchilla, and various other articles of commerce, are natural products of this section.

Through the second section the Congo sweeps in the shape of an ox-bow, 1068 miles, crossing the Equator twice. Here is that mighty system of tributaries which more than double the navigable waters of the great basin. On the south are the Kwa, navigable up to Lake Leopold II, a distance of 281 miles; the Lukanga with its shores lined with shrewd native traders; the Mohindu, navigable for 650 miles; the Ikelemba, seat of the Bakuti tribe, navigable for 125 miles; the Lulungu, reported to be more populous than the Congo, navigable for 800 miles; the Lubiranzi, navigable for twenty-five miles.

On the north side is the Lufini, navigable for thirty miles; the Alima, navigable for fifty miles; the Likuba, with fifty miles of navigation; the Bunga, 150 miles; the Balui, 350, the Ubanga and Ngala, 450 miles, together; the Itimbiri, 250 miles; the Nkukù, sixty miles; the Biyerre ninety-six miles; the Chofu, twenty-five miles.

This section alone, therefore, gives a direct steam mileage of 5250 miles, and the rivers drain an area of over 1,000,000 square miles. Stanley says the wealth of Equatorial Africa lies in this section. It is cut by the Equator, whose rain-belt discharges showers for ten months in the year. North and south from the Equator, the dry periods are longer. The population of the section, Stanley estimates to be 43,500,000. His observations were, of course, confined to the river districts, but other travelers confirm his estimates. Weissman says of the Lubilash country, “It is densely peopled and some of the villages are miles in length. They are clean, with commodious houses shaded by oil-palms and bananas, and surrounded by carefully divided fields in which, quite contrary to the usual African practice, man is seen to till the fields while women attend to household offices. From the Lubilash. to the Lumani there stretches almost uninterruptedly a prairie region of great fertility, the future pasture grounds of the world. The reddish loam, overlying the granite, bears luxuriant grass and clumps of trees, and only the banks are densely wooded. The rain falls during eight months of the year, from September to April, but they are not excessive. The temperature varies, from 63° to 81°, but occasionally, in the dry season, falls as low as 45°.”

The southeastern portion of this section is, on the authority of Tippoo Tib, who doubtless ranged it more extensively than any other man, dotted with villages, some of which took him two hours to pass through. The country is a succession of prairies and parks, of rare fertility and beauty. On the north and northeast of this section is the residence of the Monbuttus, Niam-Niams and Dinkas, all powerful tribes, living in comparative peace, having neat villages surrounded by fruitful plantations, lovers of the chase, rich in herds of fine cattle, skilled in the manufacture of spears and utensils of iron, experts in pottery making and ornamentation, light of form but wonderfully agile, a copper rather than black color, and very numerous. Says Sweinfurth, “From the Wellé river to the residence of the Monbuttu king, Munza, the way leads through a country of marvellous beauty, an almost unbroken line of the primitively simple dwellings extending on either side of the caravan route.” The Niam-Niam country alone he estimates at 5400 square miles in extent, with a population of 2,000,000 which would give the extraordinary rate of 370 to the square mile.

Stanley’s own observation on the Mohindu and Itimbiri river fully confirmed the story of Miyongo respecting the Lulungu, that the further he traveled from the banks of the river the thicker he would find the population.

All of this immense section is capable of the richest and most varied vegetable productions. True, until intercourse comes about by steam, or otherwise, but little use can be made of these products, yet there they are in abundance now, and susceptible of infinite additions under the care of intelligent tillage. There is an almost infinite variety of palms, the most useful of which is the oil-palm, whose nut supplies the dark-red palm oil, which has proved such a source of wealth in the Oil-river regions of the Niger country and on the west coast in general. The kernel of these nuts makes an oil-cake which is excellent for fattening and conditioning cattle. This palm towers in every forest grove and beautifies every island in the rivers. In many places it constitutes the entire forest, to the exclusion of trees of harder wood and sturdier growth. As each tree yields from 500 to 1000 nuts, some idea of the commercial value of each can be gathered.

Another valuable plant in commerce and one which abounds in this section is the India rubber plant. It is of three kinds, all of them prolific, and all as yet untouched. Stanley estimates that enough india rubber could be gathered on the islands of the Congo and in the adjacent forests on the shores, in one year, to pay for the construction of a Congo railway. Then there are other gums, useful for varnishes, as the white and red opal. These are gathered and treasured by the natives of the fishing villages, and used as torches while fishing, but they know nothing of their value in the arts. Vegetable oils are extracted from the ground-nut, the oil-berry and the castor plant. The ground-nut oils are used by the natives for lights, the extract of the oil-berry is used for cooking, while the castor-oils are used as medicine, just as with civilized people.

Whole areas of forest are covered with dense canopies of orchilla, useful as a dye, and every village has a supply of red-wood powder. But in nothing are the forests and plains of this immense section so remarkable as in the variety and quality of the vegetation capable of producing commercial fibres. Here are endless supplies of paper material, rope material, material for baskets, mattings and all kinds of cloths, such as we now make of hemp and jute.

The more industrious and ingenious tribes run to specialties in turning luxuriant nature into account. The red-wood powder of Lake Mantamba is counted the best. Iboco palm-fibre matting ranks as the jute textiles of Scotland. The Irebu are the Japanese sun-shade and floor-mat makers. The Yalulima are artists in the manufacture of double bells. The Ubangi are the Toledo sword-makers of Africa. How bountiful their supply of iron is remains to be ascertained, but it is presumably a plentiful mineral, and its use among these people, not to say numerous other tribes, is evidence that the stone age of Africa was past, long before the heathen of Europe and America had ceased to strike fire by flints in their chilly caverns, or crush one another’s skulls with granite tomahawks. The iron spears and swords of some of these African tribes are models in their way, keen as Damascus blades and bright as if mirrored on Sheffield emery wheels.

One of the comforts of civilization, the buffalo robe, is fast becoming a thing of the past. Africa may yet furnish a supply, or at least a valuable skin for tanning purposes, out of the numerous herds of buffalo which are found everywhere in this great central section. The kings and chiefs of the African tribes affect monkey skin drapery as royal dresses. If they knew the favor in which similar dresses were held upon our boulevards, they might take contracts to supply the fashionable outside world for generations, and thereby enrich themselves. Our tanneries, furrier-shops and rug-makers would go wild with delight over African invoices of goat-skins, antelope hides, lion and leopard skins, if annual excursions of traders and hunters could be sent to the Upper Congo country, at the cost of a through passage on an express train. And how our milliners would rejoice over the beauty and variety of bonnet decorations if they could reduce to possession even a tithe of the gorgeous plumage which flits incessantly through the forest spaces of tropical Africa.

Then where in Africa is there not honey, sweet as that of Hybla or Hymettus, with its inseparable product, bees-wax? Not all the perfumes of Arabia nor of the Isles of the Sea can equal in volume and fragrance the frankincense and myrrh of the Congo region. As to ivory, Stanley estimates the elephant herds of the Congo basin at 15,000 in number, each herd numbering twelve to fifteen elephants——a total of 200,000 giants, each one walking about with fifty pounds of ivory in his head, or 10,000,000 pounds in all, worth in the rough $25,000,000, or when manufactured, a sum sufficient to enrich a kingdom. Nor does he consider this estimate too large, for he had met travelers who had seen as many as 300 elephants in a single herd, and who had killed so many that their carcasses blocked the stream they were crossing. Major Vetch had killed twenty in one locality, and a missionary, Mr. Ingham, had, more in a self-supporting than in a sporting spirit, shot twenty-five and turned their tusks into money. For a century, the ivory trade has been an important one on the eastern coast of Africa, yet the field of supply has only been skirted.

But civilization must tap and destroy this source of wealth, unless parks could be preserved and elephants reared for the sake of their ivory. Wonderful as are his figures respecting this resource, Stanley regards it as of little moment in comparison with other resources of the great basin. It would not equal in commercial value the pastime of the idle warriors of the basin, if each one were to find such in the picking of a third of a pound of rubber a day for a year, or in the melting of two-thirds of a pound of palm-oil, for then the aggregate of either would exceed $25,000,000 in value, and nature would be none the poorer for the drain upon her resources. The same could be said if each warrior picked half a pound of gum-copal per day, collected half a pound of orchilla, or ground out half a pound of red-wood powder.

Stanley, and indeed all explorers of Central Africa, are convinced that iron ore abounds. It must be that the iron formations are manifest, for the natives are not given to mining, yet most of the tribes are iron-workers, patient and skillful, according to the unanimous testimony of travelers, and as the trophies sent home testify. Near Phillipville are copper mines which supply a large portion of Western Africa with copper ingots. Among the Manyanga tribes, copper ingots are a commodity as common as vegetables and fowls. To the southeast of the Upper Congo section are copper supplies for the numerous caravans that find ingress and egress by way of the Zambesi. Both Livingstone and Pinto found tribes on the Upper Zambesi who were skillful copper-smiths. It is known that black-lead exists in the Congo region. It has ever been a dream that Africa possessed rich gold fields. Though this dream was early dispelled as to the Gold Coast, it appertains as to other regions, for the roving Arabs are accustomed to return from their inland visits bearing bottles filled with gold dust, which they say they have filled from the beds of streams which they crossed.

Every observer can inform himself as to the agricultural resources of Central Africa. It is an exception on the Upper Congo, and for that matter anywhere in Central Africa, to find a village without its cleared and cultivated plats for maize and sugarcane, and some of these plats have the extent and appearance of well-ordered plantations. Everywhere the banana and plantain flourish, and yield a bountiful supply of wholesome, nourishing food. Millet is grown among some tribes for the sake of the flour it yields; but everywhere on the main river the chief dependence for a farinaceous diet is on the manioc plant, which yields the tapioca of commerce. The black bean grows almost without cultivation, and yields prolifically.

There is hardly anything in the vegetable line that does not find a home in tropical Africa. The sweet-potato grows to immense size, as do cucumbers, melons of all kinds, pumpkins, tomatoes, while cabbages, the Irish potato, the onion and other garden vegetables introduced from the temperate zone thrive in a most unexpected manner.

Wherever the Arab traders and settlers have struck this section from the east they have introduced the cultivation of rice and wheat with success, and they have carried along the planting of the mangoe, lime, orange, lemon, pine-apple and guava, all of which take hold, grow vigorously and produce liberally. All of these last have been tried on the Congo with the greatest encouragement.

Then there is practically no limit to the spice plants found growing naturally in the Congo section and capable of introduction. Ginger and nutmeg are quite common amid the rich plant growth of the entire section. As the immense prairie stretches of the Upper Congo and the Lake regions may at no distant day become the grazing ground for the world’s cattle supply, or the granary of nations, so the river bottoms, and the uplands as well, may become the cotton producing areas of the manufacturing world. Cotton is indigenous and grows everywhere. It is especially fond of the cleared spots which mark the site of deserted villages, and asserts itself to the exclusion of other vegetation. It has neither frost nor drought to contend with, and nature has given it a soil in which it may revel, without the requirement of sedulous cultivation.

It may well be asked in connection with this section, what is there which civilization demands, or is used to, for its table, its factory, or store-house, that it does not produce, or cannot be made to produce? If it supports a population almost equal to that of Europe, a population without appliances for farming and manufacturing, a population of comparative idlers, what a surplus it might produce under intelligent management and with a moderate degree of industry. The native energy of Africa, even with the most advanced tribes, is sadly misdirected, or rather, not directed at all. The best muscle of every tribe is diverted to warlike pursuits or to the athleticism of the chase. Whilst it is not a rule that it is undignified for a full grown male to work, the customs are such as to attract him into other channels of effort, so that the burden of work is thrown upon the women. They are the vegetable gardeners, the raisers of fowls and goats, and in the cattle regions of the Upper Congo and Zambesi, they are the milk-maids, the calf-raisers and herd attendants. Therefore, African labor is today like African vegetation; it is labor run wild. It is a keen, excellent labor under the spur of reward, just as the African commercial sense is alive to all the tricks of trade. What it requires is instruction and proper direction, and with these one may find in tropical Africa a resource of far more value, both at home and abroad, than all the untold wealth of forest, soil or mine.

We see and hear too little of the human resources of Africa. By this we do not mean that religion does not regard the African as a fit subject for conversion, nor that ethnology does not seek to study him as a curiosity, nor that commerce fails to use him as a convenience, nor that the lust of the Orient has ceased to discuss him as a source of gratification, but we do mean that with all the writing about African resources and possibilities, the fertility of soil, the luxuriance of forest, the plenitude of minerals, the exuberance of animal life, there is but meagre discussion of the place the native himself is to fill, considered also in the light of a natural resource. While we grow infatuated with descriptions of African wealth and possibility, we almost skip the mightiest problem Africa can reveal, the relationship its own people are to bear to its material development, their status as factors in unfolding the inner continent to the outer world. The eyes of commercial and manufacturing Europe are so set upon the main advantage, to wit, that of grabbing African lands and appropriating at a cheap rate whatever is accessible, as to overlook the future of the native. Our own eyes have been so dimmed by the melancholy sight of the North American Indian fading away before our boasted civilization, or by sight of the sons of Africa forced into degradation at the behest of hard-hearted greed, as that they are actually blind to the human factor in African enterprise. With all our respect for civilization, it must be confessed that it has failed signally to use to advantage what it found God-made and at hand, when it struck new continents and islands. It has destroyed and supplanted, as on the American continents, the Pacific islands, in Southern Africa, in the East Indies. Is that to be the role of civilization in Central Africa? Does not that continent present a higher and more humanitarian problem? Driven to desperation by a baffling climate, yet spurred by an inordinate cupidity, will not the civilization of the white man be compelled to the exercise of a genius which shall embrace the native populations, classify them as an indispensable resource, lift them to a plain of intelligent energy, look upon them as things of equality, and ultimately regard them as essentials in the art of progress and the race for development? We regard extinction of the African races as fatal to African development. There is no place in the world where the civilized commercial instinct crosses so directly the natural laws of the universe as in Africa. There is no place in the world where the ordinary forces of colonization are so nonplussed as in Africa. If we are to go ahead with our humanitarian and commercial and political problems in Africa, in the old fashioned, uncompromising, brutal way; if Africa is to be civilized by the rejection of Africans, by their extinction or degradation; then will civilization commit a graver mistake and more heinous crime than when it forced the Indian into the lava-bed, the Aztec into the Pacific or the Inca into bondage, and death in the mine. America has its race problem on hand, to be solved more by blacks than whites. Africa presents the same problem to the world. Whatever the white man may make out of African resource by following the usual formula of civilization, reduction, extirpation and so on, on the unchristian plea that the end justifies the means, that result can be safely increased a thousand times if only it is not forgotten that the native is the true, the natural, factor in any rational and permanent scheme of development.

The next section of Central Africa which comes under observation is that which is watered by the Lualaba, or in other words, the Congo, from Stanley Falls to Lake Bangweola. This is an immense section, embracing 246,000 square miles, or a length of 1260 miles. This section comprehends the several lakes on the Lualaba and the drainage system on both sides of that river, but excluding Tanganyika, and that part of the reservoir system known as the Muta Nzigé. Lake Bangweola covers 10,000 square miles; Lake Moero, 2,700 square miles; and Lake Kassali, 2,200 square miles. From Stanley Falls to Nyangwé is 327 miles, all navigable, except the six miles below Nyangwé. On the right side, going up, the Lualaba receives the Leopold river, navigable for thirty miles; the Lowa, navigable for an unknown distance; the Ulindi, 400 yards wide, and navigable; the Lira, a deep, clear stream, 300 yards wide; the Luama, 250 miles long; the Luigi, and Lukuga, the latter being the outlet of Lake Tanganyika.

On the left side, the Lualaba receives the Black River, the Lumani, and the Kamolondo. Above Nyangwé, the main stream is again navigable to Moero Lake. Altogether there are 1,100 miles of navigable water in this section. It has, for twenty years, been a favorite stamping ground for slave traders, and its population has therefore been greatly decimated, yet Stanley estimates it at 6,000,000, embraced in nine principal and many subordinate tribes. On the Lower Lualaba are four important trading points, long used by the Arabs for their nefarious purposes, and all readily accessible to the eastern coast of Africa, over well defined routes. These points are Kasongo, Nyangwé, Vibondo, and Kirundu. They are even more accessible from the west coast by way of the Congo, and Stanley regards them as valuable points for the gathering and dissemination of trade, since their populations have had twenty years of experience in traffic with outsiders. With their assistance the fine herds of cattle reared by the tribes of the plains east of the Lualaba might be brought to that river, and distributed along the entire length of the Congo, or even carried to European markets. This section is just as rich in natural products as that of the Upper Congo, and of the same general character.

The Chambesi is the main stream pouring into Lake Bangweola. Stanley makes it give a name to the section which embraces the head-waters of the Congo. It is a basin, walled in by high mountains whose sides and ravines furnish the springs of the Congo, and whose heights form the water-shed between the Congo and Zambesi. The Chambesi is a large, clear, swift stream, with several important affluents. It runs through a country, overgrown with papyrus, rushes, and tall grasses, which are most wearisome to the traveler. The country abounds in food, and the people are “civil and reasonable,” as Livingstone says. The interminable prairies are broken only by occasional rows of forest, indicative of a stream or ravine. Much of the land is inundated during the rainy season, giving rise to swamps of great extent and of difficult passage. Where this is not the case, the land affords rich pasturage for the herds of the Babisa and other tribes engaged in stock raising. This remote but interesting section is not over 46,000 miles in extent, with a population of 500,000.

As Stanley depends on Livingstone for his description of the Chambesi and Upper Lualaba country, and as this region was the object of a special journey by Livingstone——unfortunately for science and humanity, his last journey——it is proper to get an impression of it from the great explorer himself.

He started for it from Delagoa Bay, by way of the Rovuma river, which empties into Delagoa Bay, on the east coast nearly half way between the mouth of the Zambesi and Zanzibar. This river has its source well inland toward Lake Nyassa, and hence its ascent would bring him into the Lake region. All this ground has now become historic through the English and Portuguese struggle for its permanent possession.

Though the last of Livingstone’s journeys it was his most hopeful. Says he:——“The mere animal pleasure of traveling in a wild, unexplored country is very great. When on lands of a couple of thousand feet elevation, brisk exercise imparts elasticity to the muscles, fresh and healthy blood circulates through the brain, the mind works well, the eye is clear, the step is firm, and the day’s exertion always makes the evening’s repose thoroughly enjoyable. We have usually the stimulus of remote chances of danger from man or beast. Our sympathies are drawn out toward our humble, hardy companions by a community of interests, and it may be of perils, which make us all friends. Nothing but the most pitiable puerility would lead any manly heart to make their inferiority a theme for self-exaltation. However, that is often done, as if with the vague idea that we can, by magnifying their deficiencies, demonstrate our own perfections. The effect of travel on a man whose heart is in the right place is, that the mind is made more self-reliant. It becomes more confident of its own resources——there is greater presence of mind. The body is soon well knit. The muscles of the limbs grow as hard as a board, and seem to have no fat. The countenance is bronzed and there is no dyspepsia. Africa is a most wonderful country for the appetite, and it is only when one gloats over marrow bones or elephants’ feet that indigestion is possible. No doubt much toil is involved, and fatigue of which travelers in the more temperate climes can form but a faint conception. But the sweat of one’s brow is no longer a curse when one works for God. It proves a tonic to the system and is actually a blessing. No one can truly appreciate the charm of repose unless he has undergone severe exertion.”

Thus buoyantly he started for the interior, employing a retinue of human carriers and servants, and supplementing them with camels, mules and trained buffaloes. It was, in some respects, the most unique caravan of exploration that ever entered an unknown land. As to camels for carriers, away from the desert and through trackless jungle and forest, it was in the nature of an experiment which soon grew tiresome and ended in failure. As to the mules, they soon fell a prey to the tsetse fly. As to the buffaloes, which, together with the native oxen, had stood him in good stead through all his wanderings in the Kalahari desert, where they are in daily use as beasts of burden and the saddle by the natives, these too fell a victim to the merciless attack of the tsetse. He was therefore left with his two faithful attendants, Chuma and Susi, and his retinue of native carriers.

Passing through the wonderful country which borders the Rovuma, a country of peaceful tribes and plentiful products, with nothing more than the usual adventures of an African traveler, he at last arrived at Lake Nyassa. At this lake, Livingstone was on the west side of what is now known as the Mozambique territory, though it is more familiar as Nyassaland. The lake is part of the northern Zambesi water system, and its outlet into that stream is through the river Shiré. On account of the absence of boats, which were all in the hands of suspicious Arab slave merchants, he was forced to pass down the east side of the lake and cross over its outlet, the Shiré. It was by the waters of this beautiful river and the Zambesi that Livingstone always hoped to secure an easy access to Central Africa. The only obstacles then were the foolish policy of the Portuguese with regard to custom duties at the mouth of the Zambesi, and the falls on the Shiré which obstruct its navigation for seventy miles. Had he lived a few more years he would have seen both of these obstacles in part overcome, and the mission work of Bishop Steere, supplementing that of Bishop Mackenzie, so far forward as to girdle the lake with prosperous mission stations. As Livingstone rounded the southern end of the lake, he could not help recalling the fact that far down the Shiré lay in its last sleep the body of the lamented Mackenzie, and that further down on the right bank of the Zambesi slept the remains of her whose death had changed all his future prospects. His prophecy that at no distant day civilization and the Gospel would assert itself in this promising land is now meeting with fulfillment in the claims of England to a right of way into Central Africa through this very region, at the expense of Portugal, whose older right has been forfeited by non-use.

In striking westward from the lake, Livingstone found the people to be a modification of the great Waiyau branch, which extends from the lake to Mozambique. He was also impressed with the fact that but one stock inhabited all the country on the Zambesi, Shiré, Lake Nyassa and Lake Tanganyika, owing to the slight difference in their dialects. The first tribe he came in contact with were both pastoral and agricultural. Their cattle ranged over grassy, fertile plains, and were characterized by the large hump on the shoulders, which seemed, in some instances, to weigh as much as a hundred pounds. They cultivated very fine gardens, and all seemed to work, though the burden of labor fell on the slaves. Wild animals were plenty, and during Livingstone’s stay in the village a woman was carried away and wholly devoured by a lion.

In passing westward to the next village, his escort consisted of a large party of Waiyau, accompanied by six women carriers, who bore supplies for their husbands, a part of which consisted of native beer. His course brought him upon that peculiarity of soil which characterizes all the head streams of the Shire county, the Zambesi and the Congo. He designates it as earth sponge. The vegetation about the streams falls down, but is not incorporated with the earth. It forms a rich, black loamy mass, two or three feet thick which rests on the sand of the streams. When dry it cracks into gaps of two or three inches in width, but when wet it is converted into a sponge, which presents all the obstacles of a swamp or bog to the foot of the traveler.

On this journey, he witnessed a native method of hunting with dogs and the basket trap. The trap is laid down in the track of some small animal and the dogs are put on the trail. The animal in its flight runs into the open mouth of the trap, and through a set of converging bamboo splits which prevent its return. Mice and rats are caught in similarly constructed traps, which are made of wire instead of wood. A similar method of catching wild animals of larger growth was formerly in vogue in the southern Zambesi section. Long leads of wattled palisading were erected, open at the base and gradually narrowing to an apex, in which a pit was dug covered over with a layer of grass. Hunters scoured the plains in extended circles, beating in all the game within the circles. The frightened beasts, pushed by the gradually closing hunters and demoralized by their antics and noises, rush into the trap prepared for them and fall helplessly into the pit, where they are captured. This method of hunting is called “hopo.”

The village he reached was inhabited by the Manganza, who are extremely clever in the art of manufacture. Their looms turn out a strong serviceable cotton cloth. Their iron weapons show a taste for design not equalled by any of their neighbors, and it is the same with all implements relating to husbandry. Though far better artisans than the more distinctive Waiyau, they are deficient in dash and courage. He was now at an elevation of 4,000 feet above the sea, in the midst of a very fine country, where the air was delightfully clear and delicious. The cultivation was so general, and the fields so regularly laid out, that it required but little imagination to picture it as an English scene. The trees were only in clumps, and marked the tops of ridges, the sites of villages or the places of sepulture. The people go well armed with bows and arrows, and fine knives of domestic manufacture, and being great hunters they have pretty well rid their section of game. The women wear their hair long, dress in reasonably full clothing, and have somewhat the appearance of the ancient Egyptians.

The westward journey brought him to the Kanthunda people, partly plain-dwellers and partly mountaineers. They are very pompous and ceremonious. Food was found in plenty, raised by their own hands, since game was well nigh extinct. The villages were now very frequent, mostly situated in groves composed of large trees. The country was broken into high ranges of hills with broad valley sweeps between. The thermometer frequently sank to 64° at night, but the sun was intolerably hot during the day, necessitating short journeys.

All this time Livingstone had been passing westward through the system which drains either into Lake Nyassa or directly into the Zambesi. His objective being the basin which supplies the head streams of the Congo, he turned his journey northward in the direction of the mountains which divide the two great river systems.

The tribes he now struck were greatly harassed by the Mazuti, who stole their corn annually and made frequent raids for the capture of slaves. Yet they were hospitable and prosperous, being skillful weavers and iron-workers. The country was mountainous, for he was on the divide between the waters which drain into Lake Nyassa and those which flow into the Loangwa on the west, the latter being an important affluent of the Zambesi. Striking the head-waters of the Lokushwa, a tributary of the Loangwa, he followed its course to the main stream, through a country of dwarf forests, and peoples collected in stockades, who were the smiths for a large region, making and selling hoes and other iron utensils.

He crossed the Loangwa at a point where it is 100 yards wide, and in a country abounding in game. It was here that he indulged in those regretful thoughts respecting the gradual passing away of the magnificent herds of wild animals——zebras, elands, buffaloes, giraffes, gnus, and numerous species of deer and antelope——which once roamed all over Central and South Africa, down to the Cape of Good Hope, which are every year being thinned away, or driven northwards. The lion——the boasted king of animals——makes a poor figure beside the tsetse fly in travellers’ records. The general impression about him is that, in spite of his formidable strength, his imposing roaring, and his majestic mane, he is a coward and a skulker. Livingstone had a hearty contempt for the brute, though in his time he had been severely mauled and bitten by him. The lion, however, when sore pressed by hunger, has been known to pluck up sufficient courage to tear off the flimsy roof of a native hut and leap down upon the sleeping inmates. The elephant——a much grander animal in every respect——occasionally performs a similar feat, his motive being curiosity, or perhaps mischief, if one of his periodical fits of ill-nature is upon him. A sight may now and again be got of a roaming rhinoceros tramping stolidly with surly gruntings through the depths of the thicket: a glade will be suddenly opened up where a group of shaggy buffaloes are grazing; or a herd of startled giraffes will break away in a shambling gallop, their long necks swinging ungracefully to and fro, as they crash their way through the forest, like “locomotive obelisks.” Now and then a shot may be got at a troop of zebras, pallahs, wild beeste, or other big-game animals, and the scanty larder be replenished for a time; but the traveler must often lay his account with being absolutely in want of food, and be fain, like Livingstone, to draw in his belt an inch or two in lieu of dinner.

But the most gallant sport in these regions——excelling in danger and excitement even elephant-hunting——is the chase of the hippopotamus. On the Loangwa Livingstone met an entire tribe, the Makomwe, devoted exclusively to hippopotamus hunting. They reside in temporary huts on the islands, and when game gets scarce in one place they move to another. The flesh of the animals they kill is exchanged for grain brought to the river by the more settled tribes. In hunting, two men have charge of a long, shapely canoe. The men, one in the bow and one in the stern, use short, broad paddles, and as they guide the canoe down the river upon the sleeping hippopotamus, not a ripple is seen on the water. The paddlers seem to be holding their breaths and communicate by signs only. As they near their prey, the harpooner in the bow, lays down his paddle, rises slowly up, with his harpoon poised in his hand, and at the right moment plunges it into the animal near the heart. His companion in the stern now backs the canoe. At this stage there is little danger, for the beast remains for a time at the bottom of the river. But soon his surprise is over, the wound begins to smart, he feels the need of air, through exhaustion. The strong rope attached to the harpoon has a float fastened to one end, and this float designates the spot occupied by the beast. It is known that he will soon come to the surface, and the canoe now approaches the float, the harpooner having another harpoon poised in hand ready for a second throw. The situation is full of danger. Perhaps the second lunge is successful, but the beast generally comes up with an angry bellow and is ready to smash the canoe in his enormous jaws. Woe betide the occupants, unless they seek safety in the water. This they are often forced to do, but even then are not safe, unless they swim below the surface. Other canoes now come up and each one sends an harpoon into the body of the prey. Then they all begin to pull on the connecting ropes, dragging the beast hither and thither, till it succumbs through loss of blood. Swarms of crocodiles invariably crowd about the scene, attracted by the scent of the bleeding carcass.

The people he met with after passing the Loangwa were less civil, yet by no means hostile. The forests were of larger growth and more extensive. Animal life was rich in variety, as much so as on the Zambesi itself, and it was nothing unusual to bring down a gnu, an eland, and other royal animals in the same day. The country was a wide valley stretch, clothed with vegetation and very fertile. It reached to the Lobemba country, whose people are crafty and given to falsehoods. They are fond of hunting and attack the elephant with dogs and spears. The land is beautiful and fruitful, but the tribes have been torn by slave-raiders and intestinal wars.

The Babisa people, further north, are franker and better off. They trade without urging, and are given to much social gaiety. Livingstone witnessed in their midst the performance of the rain dance by four females, who appeared with their faces smeared, with war hatchets in their hands, and singing in imitation of the male voice. These people degenerate as the northern brim of the Loangwa valley is approached, and are dependent for food on wild fruits, roots and leaves.

Passing further up among the head-streams of the Loangwa, the country becomes a succession of enormous earth waves, sustaining a heavy growth of jungle, without traces of paths. Marks of elephant and buffalo feet are frequent in the oozy soil about the streams, but the animals are shy. Serpents are plenty, and every now and then cobras and puff-adders are seen in the trails. The climate is delightful, bordering on cool, for now it must be understood, the elevation is high, the traveller being well up on the water-shed between the Congo and Zambesi.

At length the mountain ranges are scaled, and the streams begin to run westward into the Chambesi, the main head stream of the Congo. The wet season dawns and all the rivulets are full. The sponge which composes their banks is soggy, so that the feet slip and are constantly wet. All around is forest, deep and luxuriant. The low tribes of the Babisa extend over the mountain tips and partly down the western slopes, carrying along their mean habits and showing the wreck occasioned by the Arab slave merchants. They could furnish only mushrooms and elephants to Livingstone, and these at fancy prices.

It was here that Livingstone met with that mishap which contributed to his untimely end. His two Waiyau guides deserted, taking along his medicine chest. He felt as if he had received his death sentence, like poor Bishop Mackenzie, for the forest was damp and the rain almost incessant. From this time on, Livingstone’s constitution was continually sapped by the effect of fever-poison, which he was powerless to counteract.

Livingstone was now clearly on the Congo water-shed and was making his way toward the Chambesi. The people were shrewd traders, but poorly off for food. Camwood and opal trees constituted the forests. There was an abundance of animal life. Pushing his way down the Movushi affluent, he at length reached the Chambesi, wending its way toward Lake Bangweola, in a westerly direction. It is a full running stream, abounding in hippopotami, crocodiles and lizards. A crossing was made with difficulty, and the journey lay through extensive flooded flats. The villages were now mostly in the lowlands and surrounded by stockades as a protection against wild beasts. Elephants and buffaloes were plenty. Lions frequently picked off the villagers, and two men were thus killed at the village of Molemba the day before Livingstone’s arrival. Forests were still deep and dark, but the gardens were large. At Molemba he met King Chitapangwa, who gave him the royal reception described elsewhere in this volume, and presented him with a cow, plenty of maize and calabashes and a supply of hippopotamus flesh. The king was one of the best natured men Livingstone had met. The huts literally swarmed with a bird, like the water wag-tail, which seemed to be sacred, as in the Bechuana country. Here too the boys were of a lively type and fond of sport. They captured smaller game and birds, but were not as skillful as the young people of Zulu and Bechuana land, where the kiri weapon is handled with so much skill. This kiri is made of wood or rhinoceros horn, and varies from a foot to a yard in length, having at one end a knob as large as a hen’s egg. It is often used in hand to hand conflicts, but is the favorite weapon of the hunter, who hurls it, even at game on the wing, with marvellous precision.

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