8 ENGLAND TO EAST AFRICA 



and in a few minutes the train thunders across 

 the high bridge over the strait which separates the 

 island of Mombasa from the mainland, and the 

 journey across the continent of Africa is begun. 



At first for many miles the line goes curling up 

 steep bush-covered banks, and looking back one 

 sees beautiful views of the bays and creeks about 

 Mombasa, the last glimpse of the ocean for a long 

 time to come. This country along the coast is 

 fairly well populated, and seemingly prosperous ; 

 villages and plantations were seen scattered at 

 intervals in the remnants of forest, and the natives 

 seemed fat and well-looking. But as we went ever 

 higher and higher, the forest was left behind, and 

 we entered on a country of unspeakable dreariness, 

 where dust and thorn-trees between them possessed 

 the land. Glimpses here and there of the old 

 caravan road running straight ahead, mile after mile 

 through this waterless desolation, banished any 

 regrets that one might have felt for the old order 

 of things. It was hard to believe that this was the 

 East Africa of which one had heard so much, but 

 according to fellow-passengers this was only the 

 desert of Sinai — Taru was the name they gave it — 

 and the Promised Land lay beyond. Meanwhile, 

 seeing that I was a stranger in the land, these same 

 fellow-passengers beguiled the tedium of the journey 

 with stories of the lions which infest this region. 

 There was the well-worn tale of the lion who 

 overate himself and was driven along the road with 



