Before We Left Unyanyembe Fifty Men Were Employed Two Days Carrying Rocks, With Which I Built Up A Solid Enduring

Pile around Shaw's grave eight feet long and five feet broad, which Dr. Livingstone said would last hundreds of years,

As the grave of the first white man who died in Unyamwezi. But though we could not discover any remains of the unfortunate Farquhar, we collected a large quantity of stones, and managed to raise a mound near the banks of the stream to commemorate the spot where his body was laid.

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

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

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

On the 13th we struck out of the village of Mvumi.

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