_April 22, 23._—During the 22nd and 23rd we descended from opposite Nsangu, a distance of five miles, to below Rocky Island Falls, and during the three following days we were engaged in the descent of a six- mile stretch, which enabled us to approach the “terrific” falls described by the Basessé at Nsangu. Arriving at camp with my canoe party, I instantly took my boat’s crew and explored the ground. The “Falls” are called Inkisi, or the “Charm”; they have no clear drop, but the river, being forced through a chasm only 500 yards wide, is flanked by curling waves of destructive fury, which meet in the centre, overlap, and strike each other, while below is an absolute chaos of mad waters, leaping waves, deep troughs, contending watery ridges, tumbling and tossing for a distance of two miles. The commencement of this gorge is a lengthy island which seems to have been a portion or slice of the table- land fallen flat, as it were, from a height of 1000 feet. More geologically speaking, it is a mile-long fragment of the gneissic substructure of the table-land which appears to have suddenly subsided, retaining its original horizontal stratification. On the sides, however, the heaps of ruin, thick slabs, and blocks of trap rock bear witness to that sudden collapsing from beneath which undoubtedly formed this chasm. The natives above Inkisi descended from their breezy homes on the table- land to visit the strangers. They were burning to know what we intended to do to extricate ourselves from the embarrassing position in which we found ourselves before these falls. I had already explored the ground personally twice over, and had planned a dozen ways to get over the tremendous obstacle. I had also ascended to the table-land to take a more general view of the situation. Before replying to their questions, I asked if there was another cataract below. “No,” said they, “at least only a little one, which you can pass without trouble.” “Ah,” thought I to myself, “this great cataract then must be Tuckey’s Cataract, and the ‘little one,’ I suppose, was too contemptible an affair to be noticed, or perhaps it was covered over by high water, for map-makers have a clear, wide—three miles wide—stream to the falls of Yellala. Good! I will haul my canoes up the mountain and pass over the table-land, as I must now cling to this river to the end, having followed it so long.” My resolution was soon communicated to my followers, who looked perfectly blank at the proposition. The natives heard me, and, seeing the silence and reluctance of the people, they asked the cause, and I told them it was because I intended to drag our vessels up the mountain.