The following morning found us much fatigued after the long marches from Ugombo, and generally disposed to take advantage of the precious luxuries Mpwapwa offered to caravans fresh from the fly-plagued lands of the Waseguhha and Wadoe.  Sheikh Thani—­clever but innocently-speaking old Arab—­was encamped under the grateful umbrage of a huge Mtamba sycamore, and had been regaling himself with fresh milk, luscious mutton, and rich bullock humps, ever since his arrival here, two days before; and, as he informed me, it did not suit his views to quit such a happy abundance so soon for the saline nitrous water of Marenga Mkali, with its several terekezas, and manifold disagreeables.  “No!” said he to me, emphatically, “better stop here two or three days, give your tired animals some rest; collect all the pagazis you can, fill your inside with fresh milk, sweet potatoes, beef, mutton, ghee, honey, beans, matama, maweri, and nuts;—­then, Inshallah! we shall go together through Ugogo without stopping anywhere.”  As the advice tallied accurately with my own desired and keen appetite for the good things he named, he had not long to wait for my assent to his counsel.  “Ugogo,” continued he, “is rich with milk and honey—­ rich in flour, beans and almost every eatable thing; and, Inshallah! before another week is gone we shall be in Ugogo!”

I had heard from passing caravans so many extremely favourable reports respecting Ugogo and its productions that it appeared to me a very Land of Promise, and I was most anxious to refresh my jaded stomach with some of the precious esculents raised in Ugogo; but when I heard that Mpwapwa also furnished some of those delicate eatables, and good things, most of the morning hours were spent in inducing the slow-witted people to part with them; and when, finally, eggs, milk, honey, mutton, ghee, ground matama and beans had been collected in sufficient quantities to produce a respectable meal, my keenest attention and best culinary talents were occupied for a couple of hours in converting this crude supply into a breakfast which could be accepted by and befit a stomach at once fastidious and famished, such as mine was.  The subsequent healthy digestion of it proved my endeavours to have been eminently successful.  At the termination of this eventful day, the following remark was jotted down in my diary:  “Thank God!  After fifty-seven days of living upon matama porridge and tough goat, I have enjoyed with unctuous satisfaction a real breakfast and dinner.”

It was in one of the many small villages which are situated upon the slopes of the Mpwapwa that a refuge and a home for Farquhar was found until he should be enabled by restored health to start to join us at Unyanyembe.

Food was plentiful and of sufficient variety to suit the most fastidious—­cheap also, much cheaper than we had experienced for many a day.  Leucole, the chief of the village, with whom arrangements for Farquhar’s protection and comfort were made, was a little old man of mild eye and very pleasing face, and on being informed that it was intended to leave the Musungu entirely under his charge, suggested that some man should be left to wait on him, and interpret his wishes to his people.