Lake Victoria to Khartoum 



In a lowlier frame of mind, let us look at the 

 camps by the wayside. One's tent is pitched 

 under the beautiful shade of a friendly tree, with 

 waving grass on all sides down to the river's edge, 

 relieved now and then by the stately form of a 

 palm tree, pleasantly rattling its great fronds to 

 the tune of the breeze. Right behind one a 

 forest-clad hill, resounding with the metallic bell- 

 like clang of many partridges, rises abruptly ; 

 and the view out of one's tent door takes in the 

 swirling river, with its forest-clad islands dotted 

 haphazard about its course, and the green woods 

 on the other side ; whilst beyond loom, tier upon 

 tier, the red and purple Congo crags sharply 

 outlined against the clear blue sky — the back- 

 ground to all. 



The narrow river, broken by many a rock, still 

 foams and roars between the hills, which com- 

 pletely shut out the view of the country beyond. 

 The route, which has led over gneiss rubble and 

 white sand sparkling with mica, continually broken 

 with rain furrows and swamps in the bottoms, now 

 passes through a hilly country, seamed and scored 

 in all directions by rocks and ravines. Then the 

 road crosses ridges of tightly packed rocks run- 

 ning towards the river, where they suddenly dip 

 precipitously down till they hide their crests in 

 the fleecy breaking surf of the rapids. 



After these magnificent views, which have 

 pursued one for the last forty miles or so, the 



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