a boat
under sail; and wherever we landed we were surrounded in a few seconds by
hundreds of men, women, and children, who hastened to have a stare at the
"chirombo" (wild animals).

During a portion of the year, the northern dwellers on the lake have a
harvest which furnishes a singular sort of food. As we approached our
limit in that direction, clouds, as of smoke rising from miles of burning
grass, were observed bending in a south-easterly direction, and we
thought that the unseen land on the opposite side was closing in, and
that we were near the end of the lake. But next morning we sailed
through one of the clouds on our own side, and discovered that it was
neither smoke nor haze, but countless millions of minute midges called
"kungo" (a cloud or fog). They filled the air to an immense height, and
swarmed upon the water, too light to sink in it. Eyes and mouth had to
be kept closed while passing through this living cloud: they struck upon
the face like fine drifting snow. Thousands lay in the boat when she
emerged from the cloud of midges. The people gather these minute insects
by night, and boil them into thick cakes, to be used as a relish--millions
of midges in a cake. A kungo cake, an inch thick, and as large as the
blue bonnet of a Scotch ploughman, was offered to us; it was very dark in
colour, and tasted not unlike caviare, or salted locusts.

Abundance of excellent fish is found in the lake, and nearly all were new
to us. The mpasa, or sanjika, found by Dr. Kirk to be a kind of carp,
was running up the rivers to spawn, like our salmon at home: the largest
we saw was over two feet in length; it is a splendid fish, and the best
we have ever eaten in Africa. They were ascending the rivers in August
and September, and furnished active and profitable employment to many
fishermen, who did not mind their being out of season. Weirs were
constructed full of sluices, in each of which was set a large
basket-trap, through whose single tortuous opening the fish once in has
but small chance of escape. A short distance below the weir, nets are
stretched across from bank to bank, so that it seemed a marvel how the
most sagacious sanjika could get up at all without being taken. Possibly
a passage up the river is found at night; but this is not the country of
Sundays or "close times" for either men or fish. The lake fish are
caught chiefly in nets, although men, and even women with babies on their
backs, are oc