336 FERTILE COUNTRY.— OMNIVOROUS FISH. 



had about forty yards of deep, fast-flowing water, "but probably 

 not more than half that amount in the dry season. Besides these, 

 we crossed numerous feeders in our N.N.W. course, and, there 

 being no canoes, got frequently wet in the course of the day. 

 The oxen in some places had their heads only above water, and 

 the stream, flowing over their backs, wetted our blankets, which 

 we used as saddles. The arm-pit was the only safe spot for car- 

 rying the watch, for there it was preserved from rains above and 

 waters below. The men on foot crossed these gullies holding up 

 their burdens at arms' length. 



The Lokalueje winds from northeast to southwest into the 

 Leeba. The country adjacent to its banks is extremely fine and 

 fertile, with here and there patches of forest or clumps of magnifi- 

 cent trees. The villagers through whose gardens we passed con- 

 tinue to sow and reap all the year round. The grains, as maize, 

 lotsa {Pennisetum typAoideum), lokesh or millet, are to be seen 

 at all stages of their growth — some just ripe, while at this time 

 the Makololo crops are not half grown. My companions, who 

 have a good idea of the different qualities of soils, expressed the 

 greatest admiration of the agricultural capabilities of the whole 

 of Londa, and here they were loud in their praises of the pastur- 

 age. They have an accurate idea of the varieties of grasses best 

 adapted for different kinds of stock, and lament because here there 

 are no cows to feed off the rich green crop, which at this time im- 

 parts special beauty to the landscape. 



Great numbers of the omnivorous feeding fish, Glanis siluris, 

 or mosala, spread themselves over the flooded plains, and, as the 

 waters retire, try to find their way back again to the rivers. 

 The Balonda make earthen dikes and hedges across the outlets 

 of the retreating waters, leaving only small spaces through 

 which the chief part of the water flows. In these open spaces 

 they plant creels, similar in shape to our own, into which the 

 fish can enter, but can not return. They secure large quantities 

 of fish in this way, which, when smoke-dried, make a good relish 

 for their otherwise insipid food. They use also a weir of mats 

 made of reeds sewed together, with but half an inch between 

 each. Open spaces are left for the insertion of the creels as 

 before. 



In still water, a fish-trap is employed of the same shape and 



