On _July 31_ we resumed at 7 o’clock hardly expecting to see a single habitation till we were near Zomba. But there are a few hamlets a little way off the path. One large village we reached at 9, and there we rested before entering the desert. We partook of breakfast while our carriers regaled themselves with native beer. As the ‘English’ are held in high estimation as Physicians, a poor man covered with a kind of leprosy was brought to us here. At 11·20 we came to the Namasi, the largest stream we had yet crossed. The road is uniformly level. It seems as if nature had meant it for a railway. On the sides, here and there, are rocky heights rising about 150 feet above the plain. 1·50 P.M. brought us to the Ntondwe, another large stream. After 3 the descent was gradual, almost imperceptible, till we reached, at the foot of Zomba, a fine stream called the Likangala, by the side of which at 5·30 we pitched our tent under the shadow of the great mountain. At this spot there are some villages on sites as beautiful as could be conceived. The inhabitants are numerous and intelligent. They have had much intercourse with the coast, which they can reach in about seven days. Their chief is Chemlumbe. All the people were exceedingly kind and each headman recommended us to stay beside himself. The Cherasulo people could not see why we preferred Zomba, and Chemlumbe’s subjects were sure that we would settle with him. _Aug. 1._—We started for Chemlumbe’s own residence. He wished us to rest three days before doing anything. This is an example of some of the lazy customs of the country. But there are certain principles in human nature quite as strong as habit: through the offer of two shirts we procured a guide, and by twelve o’clock we stood on the top of Zomba. Once there, we went round the whole of the side towards Blantyre, and the whole of the side towards Chirwa. To our disappointment we found that, at the nearest point, the lake was at a great distance from the base of Zomba. One hill called Chikala is nearer the lake only our guide said that it was the chosen abode of war and tsetse. By the time we were ready to descend the mountain, it was dark. Our guide had left us in the afternoon because we were going too far in the direction of a hostile chief called Malemya. We were not sure whether to sleep on the hill or to press onwards in the moonlight. Ultimately we resolved to press on. Our men were so tired that they preferred to stay behind and we went on alone, though very faint, having eaten nothing since morning. Before we had gone fifteen minutes Buchanan, who was leading, declared that it would be a difficult descent, and in about fifteen minutes more we were in a perfect ‘fix’. At one point it seemed to be quite impossible to go down, while it was nearly equally difficult to go back. We kept struggling for about two hours. Once we thought of lying down till the moon came round; at another time