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The Land of the Lion 
CHAPTER I 
MOMBASSA TO LION LAND 
HE scenery on the Uganda railroad, between the sea 
and Nairobi, is often picturesque and interesting. 
I shall not, however, dwell on its features, as these have 
been described time without number. But one view 
there is of Mount Kilimanjaro which with good fortune 
may be seen, and of it I want to speak. 
The through express train from Mombassa to the 
lake, if it is on time, passes near enough to the mountain 
to afford that view. Just before sunrise I had been told 
to look out of the left hand carriage window, at about 
five o’clock in the morning, and see what I could see — 
and what I saw that clear morning three years ago, I 
shall never forget. 
All around was the dark plain illumined only by the 
stars, for there was no moon. It was about quarter-past 
five, when to southward | saw a vast pink column, flat- 
tened on the top, that rose distinctly against the dusky 
purple sky. Redder and redder it grew, as the first sun- 
beam touched its snows, and then at its base, the fringe 
of wooded mountains showed in the earliest light of the 
coming dawn. Kilimanjaro is more than nineteen thousand 
feet high, and that morning it seemed to have all the won- 
derful sunrise glory to itself for quite a long time, while still 
the veldt at its feet lay in the darkness. Just that column 
of pink, changing to scarlet —and nothing else to tell 
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