A GIRAFFE PHOTOGRAPH, TAKEN IN THE SHIMMERING LIGHT OF THE VELT. 



The Spell of the Elelescho 



ON the afternoon of January 14, 1897, a small 

 caravan of native bearers, some fifty strong, 

 was wearily making its way across the wide plain towards 

 its long-wished-for goal, Lake Nakuro, which was at 

 last coming into sight in the far distance. The appear- 

 ance of the bearers and their worn-out clothing showed 

 plainly that the caravan had made a long journey. And 

 so it was. Weakened by fever, I was coming from 

 the Victoria Nyanza in the hope of making a quicker 

 recovery in this more elevated district. As is the way 

 when one is convalescent, life seemed to me something 

 doubly beautiful and desirable now that, after lying 

 seriously ill for weeks, I was recovering from the fever. 

 I had been all but despaired of by the English officers 

 who had kindly taken care of me, Mr. C. W. Hobley 



I 



