In the first ascent of the Shire our attention was chiefly directed to the river itself.  The delight of threading out the meanderings of upwards of 200 miles of a hitherto unexplored river must be felt to be appreciated.  All the lower part of the river was found to be at least two fathoms in depth.  It became shallower higher up, where many departing and re-entering branches diminished the volume of water, but the absence of sandbanks made it easy of navigation.  We had to exercise the greatest care lest anything we did should be misconstrued by the crowds who watched us.  After having made, in a straight line, one hundred miles, although the windings of the river had fully doubled the distance, we found further progress with the steamer arrested, in 15 degrees 55 minutes south, by magnificent cataracts, which we called, “The Murchison,” after one whose name has already a world-wide fame, and whose generous kindness we can never repay.  The native name of that figured in the woodcut is Mamvira.  It is that at which the progress of the steamer was first stopped.  The angle of descent is much smaller than that of the five cataracts above it; indeed, so small as compared with them, that after they were discovered this was not included in the number.

A few days were spent here in the hope that there might be an opportunity of taking observations for longitude, but it rained most of the time, or the sky was overcast.  It was deemed imprudent to risk a land journey whilst the natives were so very suspicious as to have a strong guard on the banks of the river night and day; the weather also was unfavourable.  After sending presents and messages to two of the chiefs, we returned to Tette.  In going down stream our progress was rapid, as we were aided by the current.  The hippopotami never made a mistake, but got out of our way.  The crocodiles, not so wise, sometimes rushed with great velocity at us, thinking that we were some huge animal swimming.  They kept about a foot from the surface, but made three well-defined ripples from the feet and body, which marked their rapid progress; raising the head out of the water when only a few yards from the expected feast, down they went to the bottom like a stone, without touching the boat.

In the middle of March of the same year (1859), we started again for a second trip on the Shire.  The natives were now friendly, and readily sold us rice, fowls, and corn.  We entered into amicable relations with the chief, Chibisa, whose village was about ten miles below the cataract.  He had sent two men on our first visit to invite us to drink beer; but the steamer was such a terrible apparition to them, that, after shouting the invitation, they jumped ashore, and left their canoe to drift down the stream.  Chibisa was a remarkably shrewd man, the very image, save his dark hue, of one of our most celebrated London actors, {2} and the most intelligent chief, by far, in this quarter.  A great deal of fighting had