A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



from the North is the occasion for a fashionable 

 gathering. 



The local train which was to take us across the 

 river was waiting to start on another line, so we 

 had only just time to shift our belongings and wish 

 good-bye to old Saidi, who had donned his Tarn o' 

 Shanter of many colours in honour of the occasion. 

 We steamed slowly over the fine suspension bridge 

 standing high above the gorge through which the 

 Zambesi runs, getting our first view of the Falls as 

 we crossed, and reached in about ten minutes the 

 gates of the Victoria Falls Hotel, where the train 

 stopped to let us get out, for we were the only 

 passengers. 



The hotel, which stands in well-kept grounds, 

 was most comfortable, and the sitting-room, bed- 

 room, and bath room we were given in the 

 "annexe" seemed most luxurious after so many 

 months of camp life. It was very hot, however, 

 and that night the mosquitoes hummed merrily. 



In the cool of the evening we walked down to 

 see the Falls, and got very wet from the spray 

 which rises in clouds and drenches any one not 

 provided with macintoshes and umbrellas. The 

 vegetation wherever this spray falls is wonderful ; 

 maiden hair ferns in abundance, and overhead tall 

 palms and other trees, all a vivid green. There is 

 an excellent path which leads through the bush 

 along the river bank, with here and there points of 

 vantage from which one can see the river and the 

 Falls. 



I will not attempt to describe the Falls, which 

 244 



