We had barely completed the construction of our camp defences when some of the men were heard challenging a small party of natives which advanced towards our camp, headed by a man who, from his garb and head-dress, we knew was from Zanzibar.  After interchanging the customary salutations, I was informed that this party was an embassy from Simba ("Lion"), who ruled over Kasera, in Southern Unyamwezi.  Simba, I was told, was the son of Mkasiwa, King of Unyanyembe, and was carrying on war with the Wazavira, of whom I was warned to beware.  He had heard such reports of my greatness that he was sorry I did not take his road to Ukawendi, that he might have had the opportunity of seeing me, and making friends with me; but in the absence of a personal visit Simba had sent this embassy to overtake me, in the hope that I would present him with a token of my friendship in the shape of cloth.  Though I was rather taken aback by the demand, still it was politic in me to make this powerful chief my friend, lest on my return from the search after Livingstone he and I might fall out.  And since it was incumbent on me to make a present, for the sake of peace, it was necessary to exhibit my desire for peace by giving—­if I gave at all—­a royal present.  The ambassador conveyed from me to Simba, or the “Lion” of Kasera, two gorgeous cloths, and two other doti consisting of Merikani and Kaniki; and, if I might believe the ambassador, I had made Simba a friend for ever.

On the 18th of October, breaking camp at the usual hour, we continued our march north-westward by a road which zig-zagged along the base of the Kasera mountains, and which took us into all kinds of difficulties.  We traversed at least a dozen marshy ravines, the depth of mire and water in which caused the utmost anxiety.  I sunk up to my neck in deep holes in the Stygian ooze caused by elephants, and had to tramp through the oozy beds of the Rungwa sources with any clothes wet and black with mud and slime.  Decency forbade that I should strip; and the hot sun would also blister my body.  Moreover, these morasses were too frequent to lose time in undressing and dressing, and, as each man was weighted with his own proper load, it would have been cruel to compel the men to bear me across.  Nothing remained, therefore, but to march on, all encumbered as I was with my clothing and accoutrements, into these several marshy watercourses, with all the philosophical stoicism that my nature could muster for such emergencies.  But it was very uncomfortable, to say the least of it.

We soon entered the territory of the dreaded Wazavira, but no enemy was in sight.  Simba, in his wars, had made clean work of the northern part of Uzavira, and we encountered nothing worse than a view of the desolated country, which must have been once—­judging from the number of burnt huts and debris of ruined villages—­extremely populous.  A young jungle was sprouting up vigorously in their fields,