dation of the Muzimus, or spirits, have been
erected in several of the bends. Kawa river
empties into this bay.
During the 2nd and 3rd July we rowed close
to the uninhabited shore, and at noon of the
3rd arrived at the extreme south end of the
lake—which we ascertained to be 8° 47' south
latitude—in the district of Ukituta. The little
stream Kapata issues into the lake at this end
through a dense and dark grove, the dead trees
standing in front of the grove bearing witness
to the destructive action of the rising waters.
I ^scoured the country eagerly in search of
game, but, though tracks of buffalo were
numerous, I failed to obtain a glimpse of a
single head. Safeni, who was the coxswain of
the Meofu canoe, accompanied me, and pointed
out various points of interest in connection with
Livingstone, as we followed the road which he
had travelled over in his last fatal journey to
Lake Bemba. The myombo and borassus palm
flourished on the higher terraces.
On the 4th, after rounding a point of a ridge
— three miles from the Kapata— which lay north,
we turned westward between Ntondwe Island
and the mainland, and then passing by Murikwa
Island, we reached, in two hours, the southern
termination of the western shore of the Tanganika,
whence may be seen the Wezi river tumbling
down from the plateau of Urungu.
The village of Mwangala, where we camped,
was at first hidden from our view by a dense
line of water-cane, which sheltered its small
fishing-canoes from the storms of the lake. One
glance at the village fence informed us that here
also was evidence that the lake was rising. We
asked the natives if they did not think the water
was gaining on them.
“ Can you not see?” said they. “ Another
rain and we shall have to break away from here,
and build anew.”
“Where does the water of the lake go to?”
“ It goes north, then it seems to come back
upon us stronger than ever.”
“But is there no river about here that goes
towards the west?”
“We never heard of any.”
That part of the western coast which extends
from Mbete or Mombete, to the south, as far
as the Rufuvu river, is sacred ground in the lore
of the ancients of Urungu. Each crag and grove,
each awful mountain brow and echoing gorge,
has its solemn associations of spirits. Vague and
indescribable beings, engendered by fear and
intense superstition, govern the scene. Any
accident that may befall, any untoward event or
tragedy that may occur, before the sanctuaries
of these unreal powers, is carefully treasured in
the memories of the people with increased awe
and dread of the Spirits of the Rocks.