The hilly ridge that bounded the westward horizon, visible from Utende, was surmounted on this day.  The western slope trends south-west, and is drained by the River Mrera, which empties into the Malagarazi River.  We perceived the influence of the Tanganika, even here, though we were yet twelve or fifteen marches from the lake.  The jungles increased in density, and the grasses became enormously tall; these points reminded us of the maritime districts of Ukwere and Ukami.

We heard from a caravan at this place, just come from Ufipa, that a white man was reported to be in “Urua,” whom I supposed to mean Livingstone.

Upon leaving Mwaru we entered the district of Mrera, a chief who once possessed great power and influence over this region.  Wars, however, have limited his possessions to three or four villages snugly embosomed within a jungle, whose outer rim is so dense that it serves like a stone wall to repel invaders.  There were nine bleached skulls, stuck on the top of as many poles, before the principal gate of entrance, which told us of existing feuds between the Wakonongo and the Wazavira.  This latter tribe dwelt in a country a few marches west of us; whose territory we should have to avoid, unless we sought another opportunity to distinguish ourselves in battle with the natives.  The Wazavira, we were told by the Wakonongo of Mrera, were enemies to all Wangwana.

In a narrow strip of marsh between Mwaru and Mrera, we saw a small herd of wild elephants.  It was the first time I had ever seen these animals in their native wildness, and my first impressions of them I shall not readily forget.  I am induced to think that the elephant deserves the title of “king of beasts.”  His huge form, the lordly way in which he stares at an intruder on his domain, and his whole appearance indicative of conscious might, afford good grounds for his claim to that title.  This herd, as we passed it at the distance of a mile, stopped to survey the caravan as it passed:  and, after having satisfied their curiosity, the elephants trooped into the forest which bounded the marshy plain southward, as if caravans were every-day things to them, whilst they—­the free and unconquerable lords of the forest and the marsh—­had nothing in common with the cowardly bipeds, who never found courage to face them in fair combat.  The destruction which a herd makes in a forest is simply tremendous.  When the trees are young whole swathes may be found uprooted and prostrate, which mark the track of the elephants as they “trampled their path through wood and brake.”

The boy Selim was so ill at this place that I was compelled to halt the caravan for him for two days.  He seemed to be affected with a disease in the limbs, which caused him to sprawl, and tremble most painfully, besides suffering from an attack of acute dysentery.  But constant attendance and care soon brought him round again; and on the third day he was able to endure the fatigue of riding.