Dedza to Lilongwe 



Towards evening I strolled out of camp, and 

 was much struck with the beauty of the landscape, 

 the delicate tinted acacia trees ranging from tender 

 pink to rich crimson, from pale yellow to deep 

 coppery brown and green, scattered amid the grey 

 rocks. On the far horizon the bold outline of distant 

 mountains veiled in blue haze, in the middle distance 

 flat-topped mimosa trees making a dark note in the 

 landscape, while near at hand the sun-dried grass 

 waving in the breeze made up a never-to-be- 

 forgotten picture, resplendent in the rosy glow of 

 the afternoon sun. 



I attempted a sketch, but under difficulties, as I 

 found I had no paint-brush — and must use a feather — 

 and neither cobalt nor gamboge in my paint-box. 

 However, rough though the sketch is, it reminds 

 me of the beauty of the scenery in far-off 

 Angoniland. 



Inquiries as regards game disclosed the fact that 

 there was a herd of sable in the neighbourhood 

 whose usual feeding-ground was a dambo two or 

 three miles off. That evening we went after them, 

 and sure enough there they were placidly feeding in 

 their favourite place. Their position necessitated a 

 long stalk, and round we went for two or three miles 

 under cover of the forest. When on a level with 

 the herd, I stopped with the machilla teams, while 



A and old Saidi crept up to the edge of the 



trees and got within a hundred and fifty yards of 

 them quite unperceived, to find, alas ! that there was 

 no old bull among them. They looked so pictur- 

 esque that A sent Saidi back to fetch me, but 



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