February 20, 1885.] 



SCIENCE. 



153 



last stopping-place," Mr. Johnston said, "and round- 

 ing an unsuspected and deep ravine, I arrived close 

 to the base of a small peak, which had been a con- 

 tinual and useful point to aim at during the whole 

 journey from my station. I was now on the central 

 connecting ridge of Kilimanjaro, and could see a 

 little on both sides, though the misty state of the 

 atmosphere prevented my getting any good view of 

 the country. This ridge, which from below looks 

 so simple and straight, is in reality dotted with 

 several small monticules, and cut up into many 

 minor ridges, the general direction of which is, on 

 the southern side, from north-east to south-west. 

 To the eastward I could see the greater part of 

 Kimawenzi rising grandly with its jagged peaks and 

 smooth glissades of golden sand. Westward I still 

 looked vainly in the piled-up clouds ; for the monarch 

 of the chain still remained obstinately hidden, and I 

 was at a loss as to how best to approach his awful 

 crown of snow. At length, and it was so sudden 

 and so fleeting that I had no time to fully take in 

 the majesty of the snowy dome of Kibo, the clouds 

 parted, and I looked on a blaze of snow so blind- 

 ing white under the brief flicker of sunlight, that I 

 could see little detail. Since sunrise that morning I 

 had caught no glimpse of Kibo, and now it was sud- 

 denly presented to me with unusual and startling 

 nearness. But before I could get out my sketch- 

 book, and sharpen my chalk pencil, the clouds had 

 once more hidden every thing; indeed, had enclosed 

 me in a kind of London fog, very depressing in 

 character, for the decrease in light was rather alarm- 

 ing to one who felt himself alone and cut off at a 

 point nearly as high as the summit of Mont Blanc. 

 However, knowing now the direction of my goal, I 

 rose from the clammy stones, and, clutching up my 

 sketch-book with benumbed hands, began once more 

 to ascend westwards. Seeing but a few yards in 

 front of me, choked with mist, I made but slow prog- 

 ress; nevertheless, I continually mounted along a 

 gently sloping hummocky ridge, where the spaces in 

 between the masses of rock were filled with fine 

 yellowish sand. There were also fragments of stone 

 strewn about, and some of these I put into my knap- 

 sack. The slabs of rock were so slippery with the 

 drizzling mist, that I very often nearly lost my foot- 

 ing, and I thought with a shudder what a sprained 

 ankle would mean here. However, though reflection 

 told me it would be better to return to my followers, 

 and recommence the climb to-morrow, I still strug- 

 gled on with stupid persistency; and at length, after 

 a rather steeper ascent than usual up the now 

 smoother and sharper ridge, I suddenly encountered 

 snow lying at my very feet, and nearly plunged head- 

 long into a great rift filled with snow that here 

 seemed to cut across the ridge and interrupt it. The 

 dense mist cleared a little in a partial manner, and I 

 then saw to my left the black rock sloping gently to 

 an awful gulf of snow so vast and deep that its limits 

 were concealed by fog. Above me a line of snow 

 was just discernible, and altogether the prospect 

 was such a gloomy one, with its all-surrounding cur- 

 tain of sombre cloud, and its uninhabited wastes of 



snow and rock, that my heart sank within me at my 

 loneliness. Nevertheless, I thought, ' only a little 

 farther, and perhaps I may ascend above the clouds, 

 and stand gazing down into the crater of Kiliman- 

 jaro from its snowy rim.' So, turning momentarily 

 northwards, I rounded the rift of snow, and once 

 more dragged myself, now breathless and panting, 

 and with aching limbs, along the slippery ridge of 

 bare rock which went ever mounting upwards. I 

 continued this for nearly an hour, and then dropped 

 exhausted on the ground, overcome with what I sup- 

 pose was an ordinary attack of mountain sickness. 

 I was miserably cold, the driving mist having wetted 

 me to the skin. Yet the temperature recorded here 

 was above freezing-point, being 35° F. I boiled my 

 thermometer, and the agreeable warmth of the 

 spirit-lamp put life into my benumbed hands. The 

 mercury rose to 183.8°. This observation, when 

 properly computed, and with the correction added 

 for the temperature of the intermediate air, gives a 

 height of 16,315 feet as the highest point I attained 

 on Kilimanjaro. I thus came within a little more 

 than 2,000 feet of the summit, which is usually esti- 

 mated to reach an altitude of 18,800 feet." 



He made other ascents during the month he was 

 in high altitudes. The footprints and other traces 

 of buffaloes were seen up to 14,000 feet ; but he never 

 caught sight of one of the creatures, nor did he see 

 any of the big antelope, which also wander up to the 

 snowMine. At a height of 13,000 feet he saw three 

 elephants, and at night the shrill trumpeting of these 

 animals could be heard round the station. 



On Oct. 18 he found himself, most unwillingly^ 

 obliged to leave the elevated settlement and return 

 to Taveita. The relatively great cold they had expe- 

 rienced had reacted very unfavorably on his men's- 

 health, and he feared that a longer delay might 

 render them quite unfitted to carry burdens. He 

 intended, however, to make his return journey 

 entirely through a new and hitherto untraversed 

 country, and this project somewhat consoled him for 

 leaving the summit of Kilimanjaro still unconquered. 



Their downward journey, part of the way through 

 trackless bush and dense dank forest, was not with- 

 out adventure and some reward in scenery of great 

 beauty. The average elevation of this country was 

 between 8,000 and 7,000 feet, and the temperature 

 consequently almost cool, ranging from 43° at night 

 to 70° in the mid-day warmth. After some four 

 hours' walking from their camp, they crossed the 

 long ridge that marked the southern flank of Kima- 

 wenzi, and began to descend the eastern slope of the 

 mountain. Soon they emerged on a kind of heath- 

 like country, and then looked forth on a splendid 

 view stretching from Mwika to the mountains of 

 Bura and Ukambani (the Kiulu range), with Jipe on 

 one hand and the river Tzavo on the other. After 

 some enjoyable excursions from his settlement at 

 Taveita, finding that his funds would not support 

 the expedition beyond the end of November, he 

 made a rapid journey to the coast by way of Pare, 

 Usambara, and the Rufu River to Pangani. At Zan- 

 zibar, finding there were no fresh funds to enable 



