The soldiers complained of hunger, they had nothing to eat but a little mapira, and were making palm wine to deaden their cravings.

While waiting for a ship, we had leisure to read the newspapers and periodicals we found in the mail which was waiting our arrival at Tette.

Several were a year and a half old.
Our provisions began to run short; and towards the end of the month there was nothing left but a little bad biscuit and a few ounces of sugar.
Coffee and tea were expended, but scarcely missed, as our sailors discovered a pretty good substitute in roasted mapira.

Fresh meat was obtained in abundance from our antelope preserves on the large island made by a creek between the Kongone and East Luabo.
In this focus of decaying vegetation, nothing is so much to be dreaded as inactivity.

We had, therefore, to find what exercise and amusement we could, when hunting was not required, in peering about in the fetid swamps; to have gone mooning about, in listless idleness, would have ensured fever in its worst form, and probably with fatal results.
A curious little blenny-fish swarms in the numerous creeks which intersect the mangrove topes.