182 THE BONDS OF AFRICA 



of Kenia was not one whit the less bewitching. 

 In the clear, cold morning air her topmost crags 

 looked like icebergs in a celestial sea, and I said 

 good-bye to her with humble regret. 



Meru is but an infant among the administrat- 

 ive posts of our East African Empire — one of 

 the youngest of the establishments of law and 

 order and justice. Nevertheless it has quickly 

 borne the blossom of the great tree of protective 

 government, the tree which has spread its 

 giant roots westwards to the floral feet of colossal 

 Ruwenzori, northwards to the Abyssinian fron- 

 tier, southwards to the forests of the Sotik. 

 Proudly the lion-emblazoned flag bends to the 

 cold winds that blow over this highland Boma, 

 5,300 feet above the sea. Five years ago the 

 seed of government was planted here. The 

 bush was cleared, clusters of huts quickly be- 

 came finished " askari " lines. Government offices 

 proclaimed the peaceful conquest of the mud- 

 stained Meru. To-day one sees a lovely sward 

 almost as emerald green as an English tennis- 

 lawn, a log-built pagoda, the residence of the 

 District Commissioner, all surrounded by flower- 

 beds, all abloom with the pinks and whites of 

 carnations. Jombani Mountain frowns down 

 on it all, as though this stern old guardian of 

 Meruland resented the carnations in the rightful 

 home of the plantain groves, and the British 

 flag where might was right and a long, cruel 

 spear blade the emblem of rule. Jombani and 

 M'Wimbi are two mountain masses which over- 

 look the Meru country, and have watched ages 

 of barbarism roll by in the process of the suns, 

 and now look suspiciously at the beginnings of 

 a new epoch and a new drama in the strange 

 old playhouse of life wherein the dramatis 



