A slight mishap with the machinery delayed us for several hours, and it was not till noon the following day that we reached Makwira’s village. Young Makwira, who is quite the young gentleman, in knickers, stockings, spats, collar, and hard hat, provided us with whiskies and milk, and discussed local politics, displaying no little acumen. I believe that it was his father who used to be a terror to all travellers on the Shiré, and that but a few years ago, when the elephant still roamed in thousands on the Elephant Marsh, undisturbed by the shrill whistle of the stern-wheeler or the bark of the playful 4-bore. It was either old Makwira or another genial darky in the vicinity, who for some time kept a tame Portuguese band, and utilized the bandsmen when off duty as machila-carriers.[#] [#] _Machila_: Portuguese word acclimatized; a hammock slung to a pole and carried by a team of men. The Elephant Marsh is a large tract of country lying on the left bank of the Shiré river, north of Chiromo. In days gone by it teemed with elephant, buffalo, and game of all descriptions; but the persistent gunner soon drove the elephant away and decimated the other beasts. And it was due, I believe, to Sir Harry Johnston that it was made into a game reserve. The effect has been most beneficial. Herds of waterbuck and buffalo come to the banks of the river, and lazily watch the steamers pass; and even elephant have been occasionally seen of late playing in their old haunts. A more suitable spot for a reserve could not have been selected. The Shiré and Ruo rivers to the south-west and east, and the highlands to the north, form natural boundaries; there is plenty of water and ample grazing at all times of the year. Every night one may hear the lions roaring. By legislative foresight a game paradise has been saved in the midst of one of the busiest and most progressive of our African possessions. At Makwira’s we reluctantly bade farewell to Mr. H. C. MacDonald, whose dry humour and all-embracing hospitality had made my weary sojourn in Chiromo one of the most delightful stages in our journey. The company on the steamer was rather embarrassed by the extravaganzas of an evangelical madman, who had arrived in the country in a state of destitution, and who is probably by now, under the title D.B.S., a burden on the community. Such men should be caged, or at least prevented from running loose amongst the natives, and adding to the already well-nigh insuperable difficulties of the administration. A few hours’ run brought us to Katunga’s, the African Lakes Corporation’s port for Blantyre. The Government station is a little distance further up the river. The crocodiles, which were very numerous, had been causing much mortality amongst the natives; one had even seized the station’s bucket, which, for greater safety, was lowered into the river to draw water from the end of a long pole.