ater, and
consequently of food, in the gardens, obliged the men to be absent
collecting locusts, so that there was hardly any one to come either to
church or school. Even the observance of the Sabbath broke down. If
Kolobeng should have to be abandoned, where would Livingstone go next?
It was certainly worth his while to look if a suitable locality could
not be found in Sebituane's territory. He had resolved that he would not
stay with the Bakwains always. If the new region were not suitable for
himself, he might find openings for native teachers; at all events, he
would go northward and see. Just before he started, messengers came to
him from Lechulatebe, chief of the people of the lake, asking him to
visit his country, and giving such an account of the quantity of ivory
that the cupidity of the Bakwain guides was roused, and they became
quite eager to be there.

On 1st June, 1849, Livingstone accordingly set out from Kolobeng.
Sechele was not of the party, but two English hunting friends
accompanied him, Mr. Oswell and Mr. Murray--Mr. Oswell generously
defraying the cost of the guides. Sekomi, a neighboring chief who
secretly wished the expedition to fail, lest his monopoly of the ivory
should be broken up, remonstrated with them for rushing on to certain
death--they must be killed by the sun and thirst, and if he did not stop
them, people would blame him for the issue. "No fear," said Livingstone,
"people will only blame our own stupidity."

The great Kalahari desert, of which Livingstone has given so full an
account, lay between them and the lake. They passed along its northeast
border, and had traversed about half of the distance, when one day it
seemed most unexpectedly that they had got to their journey's end. Mr.
Oswell was a little in advance, and having cleared an intervening thick
belt of trees, beheld in the soft light of the setting sun what seemed a
magnificent lake twenty miles in circumference; and at the sight threw
his hat in the air, and raised a shout which made the Bakwains think him
mad. He fancied it was 'Ngami, and, indeed, it was a wonderful
deception, caused by a large salt-pan gleaming in the light of the sun;
in fact, the old, but ever new phenomenon of the mirage. The real 'Ngami
was yet 300 miles farther on.

Livingstone has given ample details of his progress in the _Missionary
Travels_, dwelling especially on his joy when he reached the beautiful
river Zouga, whose waters flowed from '