gave their
loads to a stranger to carry, with a promise to him that I would pay.
We waited two hours for them; and as the havildar said that they would
not obey him, I gave Perim and the other some smart cuts with a cane,
but I felt that I was degrading myself, and resolved not to do the
punishment myself again.

_8th July, 1866._--Hard travelling through a depopulated country. The
trees are about the size of hop-poles with abundance of tall grass;
the soil is sometimes a little sandy, at other times that reddish,
clayey sort which yields native grain so well. The rock seen uppermost
is often a ferruginous conglomerate, lying on granite rocks. The
gum-copal tree is here a mere bush, and no digging takes place for the
gum: it is called Mchenga, and yields gum when wounded, as also bark,
cloth, and cordage when stripped. Mountain masses are all around us;
we sleep at Linata mountain.

_9th July, 1866._--The Masuko fruit abounds: the name is the same here
as in the Batoka country; there are also rhododendrons of two species,
but the flowers white. We slept in a wild spot, near Mount Leziro,
with many lions roaring about us; one hoarse fellow serenaded us a
long time, but did nothing more. Game is said to be abundant, but we
saw none, save an occasional diver springing away from the path. Some
streams ran to the north-west to the Lismyando, which flows N. for the
Rovuma; others to the south-east for the Loendi.

_10th and 11th July, 1866._--Nothing to interest but the same weary
trudge: our food so scarce that we can only give a handful or half a
pound of grain to each person per day. The Masuko fruit is formed, but
not ripe till rains begin; very few birds are seen or heard, though
there is both food and water in the many grain-bearing grasses and
running streams, which we cross at the junction of every two ridges.
A dead body lay in a hut by the wayside; the poor thing had begun to
make a garden by the stream, probably in hopes of living long enough
(two months or so) on wild fruits to reap a crop of maize.

_12th July, 1866._--A drizzling mist set in during the night and
continued this morning, we set off in the dark, however, leaving our
last food for the havildar and sepoys who had not yet come up. The
streams are now of good size. An Arab brandy bottle was lying broken
in one village called Msapa. We hurried on as fast as we could to the
Luatize, our last stage before getting to Mataka's; this stream is
rapid, a