THE VICTORIA FALLS 
35 
several others asserted that they could already hear the roar of 
the falling waters—a not impossible thing with the breeze in 
the right quarter; but, personally, we could not corroborate the 
statement. We marched without a break through to the usual 
camping ground about a mile and a half above the falls on the 
banks of the Zambesi in great excitement, the roar of the 
waters increasing as we neared the spot, until at this distance it 
was necessary to raise our voices slightly to make conversation 
comfortably audible. We felt no fatigue from our long march 
and uncomfortable nights—the senses were drowned in the 
glorious view before us. 
Our first view of the falls from the camp was while standing 
by the huge baobab trees that line the banks, their size dwarfed 
into insignificance by 
the mighty volume of 
rushing water, in whose 
broad blue expanse 
lovely palm - grown 
islands divide the cur¬ 
rent that unites in whirl¬ 
pools below. All nature 
seems inclined with the 
stream, and our very 
senses are directed to¬ 
wards the spot where 
the water, giving a pre¬ 
paratory bound, as if 
to anticipate its doom, 
precipitates itself into 
the deep chasm with a 
terrific, uninterrupted 
roar that defies com¬ 
parison. From the chill depth a wind rises, conveying high into 
the air mighty volumes of vapour, which, fringed with rainbow 
colours in the sun, hover above in columns like weird spirits 
guarding this greatest of Nature’s works. One single palm tree, 
SPECIMEN OF BAOBAB TREE, VICTORIA FALLS 
