It was well known that northward, beyond the desert, lay a great lake, in the midst of a country rich in ivory and other articles of commerce.  In former years, when rains had been more abundant, the natives had frequently crossed this desert; and somewhere near the lake dwelt a famous chief, named Sebituane, who had once lived on friendly terms in the neighborhood of Sechele, who was anxious to renew the old acquaintance.  Mr. Livingstone determined to open intercourse with this region, in spite of the threats and opposition of the Boers.

So the missionary became a traveler and explorer.  While laying his plans and gathering information, the opportune arrival of Messrs. Oswell and Murray, two wealthy Englishmen who had become enamored with African hunting, enabled him to undertake the proposed expedition, Mr. Oswell agreeing to pay the guides, who were furnished by Sechele.

This expedition, which resulted in the discovery of Lake Ngami, set out from the missionary station at Kolobeng on the 1st of June, 1849.  The way lay across the great Kalahari desert, seven hundred miles in breadth.  This is a singular region.  Though it has no running streams, and few and scanty wells, it abounds in animal and vegetable life.  Men, animals, and plants accommodate themselves singularly to the scarcity of water.  Grass is abundant, growing in tufts; bulbous plants abound, among which are the ‘leroshua’, which sends up a slender stalk not larger than a crow quill, with a tuber, a foot or more below the surface, as large as a child’s head, consisting of a mass of cellular tissue filled with a cool and refreshing fluid; and the ‘mokuri’, which deposits under ground, within a circle of a yard from its stem, a mass of tubers of the size of a man’s head.  During years when the rains are unusually abundant, the Kalahari is covered with the ‘kengwe’, a species of water-melon.  Animals and men rejoice in the rich supply; antelopes, lions, hyenas, jackals, mice, and men devour it with equal avidity.

The people of the desert conceal their wells with jealous care.  They fill them with sand, and place their dwellings at a distance, that their proximity may not betray the precious secret.  The women repair to the wells with a score or so of ostrich shells in a bag slung over their shoulders.  Digging down an arm’s-length, they insert a hollow reed, with a bunch of grass tied to the end, then ram the sand firmly around the tube.  The water slowly filters into the bunch of grass, and is sucked up through the reed, and squirted mouthful by mouthful into the shells.  When all are filled, the women gather up their load and trudge homeward.

Elands, springbucks, koodoos, and ostriches somehow seem to get along very well without any moisture, except that contained in the grass which they eat.  They appear to live for months without drinking; but whenever rhinoceroses, buffaloes, or gnus are seen, it is held to be certain proof that water exists within a few miles.