s were thoroughly unsuitable. On the
morning of the 21st the uncomfortable "Asthmatic" grounded on a sandbank
and filled. She could neither be emptied nor got off. The river rose
during the night, and all that was visible of the worn-out craft next day
was about six feet of her two masts. Most of the property we had on
board was saved; and we spent the Christmas of 1860 encamped on the
island of Chimba. Canoes were sent for from Senna; and we reached it on
the 27th, to be again hospitably entertained by our friend, Senhor
Ferrao.

We reached the Kongone on the 4th of January, 1861. A flagstaff and a
Custom-house had been erected during our absence; a hut, also, for a
black lance-corporal and three privates. By the kind permission of the
lance-corporal, who came to see us as soon as he had got into his
trousers and shirt, we took up our quarters in the Custom-house, which,
like the other buildings, is a small square floorless hut of mangrove
stakes overlaid with reeds. The soldiers complained of hunger, they had
nothing to eat but a little mapira, and were making palm wine to deaden
their cravings. While waiting for a ship, we had leisure to read the
newspapers and periodicals we found in the mail which was waiting our
arrival at Tette. Several were a year and a half old.

Our provisions began to run short; and towards the end of the month there
was nothing left but a little bad biscuit and a few ounces of sugar.
Coffee and tea were expended, but scarcely missed, as our sailors
discovered a pretty good substitute in roasted mapira. Fresh meat was
obtained in abundance from our antelope preserves on the large island
made by a creek between the Kongone and East Luabo.

In this focus of decaying vegetation, nothing is so much to be dreaded as
inactivity. We had, therefore, to find what exercise and amusement we
could, when hunting was not required, in peering about in the fetid
swamps; to have gone mooning about, in listless idleness, would have
ensured fever in its worst form, and probably with fatal results.

A curious little blenny-fish swarms in the numerous creeks which
intersect the mangrove topes. When alarmed, it hurries across the
surface of the water in a series of leaps. It may be considered
amphibious, as it lives as much out of the water as in it, and its most
busy time is during low water. Then it appears on the sand or mud, near
the little pools left by the retiring tide; it raises itself on