664 
THE GRAPHIC 
June 27, 188; 
feet, descend into the district of Bombo. The savage inhabitants of 
this unvisited district at first greet us with hostile war-cries, and, 
taking our quiet progress for an organised invasion, advance to 
assault us with their feeble spears and flights of arrows. However, 
seeing we do not diverge from our path nor return the onset, they 
finally stand aloof, and we march unopposed out of their country 
into the No-Man’s Land beyond, 
We pass close to the brink of Lake Chain, an extinct crater filled 
with water, and strangely and most picturesquely situated above the 
almost level plains below. Reaching the River Rumi (“ our river , ’ 
as we always affectionately call it) we march along its banks till our 
beautiful forest home of Taveita is entered, and here we gladly 
surrender ourselves to a few quiet days of repose before starting for 
the coast. 
The men whom I left behind here before starting for the region 
round the snow have not wasted their time, Abdallah, who was in 
charge, has cleared and dug up a large tract of land, which is planted 
with coffee and wheat. He has bought a number of young ostriches 
from the natives, this being the season of year (October—November) 
that they emerge from the egg, and are easily captured before they 
attain the full use of their legs. One of the hens has a brood of 
chickens ; two of my ewes have lambed, and altogether the settle-, 
ment, with its air of thriving prosperity, gladdens my 
eyes. I am, indeed, unhappy for one cause only at this 
time—namely, the prospect of being soon obliged to 
quit this paradise. Still, the original term of service for 
which the men were engaged will be up at the end 
of November, and before that time I must reach the 
coast to pay them off. Unless more funds are forth¬ 
coming I shall have to discharge my porters, pay 
their wages, wind up my affairs, and return to 
England, for living in Central Africa is no more pos¬ 
sible without money (or money’s worth) than it is else¬ 
where. Nevertheless, I cannot bear to think I am 
quitting the country, and feel so hopeful and convinced 
that help in some shape or form will await me in 
Zanzibar, and that in a few weeks I shall be back in 
Taveita with renewed zeal for my work, that I do 
not like to abandon my comfortable and well-ordered 
settlement to the wild beasts and white ants, 
especially as the ground it is built on is my own, 
purchased from the natives of Taveita. Therefore, 
after a little deliberation, finding, moreover, that I 
have many goods and implements of husbandry which 
I can neither carry to the coast, for want of porters, 
nor bring myself to throw away, and disliking also 
to abandon my goats, fowls, ducks, pigeons, and 
tame ostriches, I finally decide to leave four men 
in charge of the settlement, who should await my 
return during three months, and if I do not then 
arrive, pack up as many of the things as they can 
carry, and accompany one of the Swahili caravans 
returning to the coast. 
These and other preparations made, I take a most 
reluctant farewell of my pretty town, and also of the 
pleasant-lempered and friendly Wa-Taveita, who entreat 
me to return very soon and dwell amongst them. I 
then make a short march of four hours to the northern 
corner of Lake Jipe, wherelcamp out, remainingafcw 
days in the vicinity of this piece of water, in order to observe the 
denizens of its banks. Lake Jipe is, in reality, a shallow back¬ 
water of the Lumi river, which afterwards becomes the Ruvu, and 
enters the Indian Ocean at Pangani. It is, in short, a tiny edition 
of the Albert Nyanza, about twelve miles long by three to four 
broad. On the southern bank the mountains of Ugweno rise 
grandly to heights of 6,000ft. and 7,000ft., contrasting markedly 
with the opposite shore, whereon we are encamped, which is a flat 
plain, but little raised above the lake. The water of Jipe, how¬ 
ever, is disgusting, and only drinkable after it has been well boiled 
and skimmed. As there is no current through the lake—for the 
river that flows in turns round and flows out again—and as this 
stagnant pond lies exposed to the continual rays of an ardent sun, 
and harbours, moreover, large numbers of hippopotami, who make 
the lake like their tank at the Zoological Gardens, the water drawn 
from it is a filthy liquid, warm, green, and slimy. My men drink of 
it in large quantities, nevertheless, without harm, but for myself I 
have it boiled and boiled for hours, and the green scum or froth 
taken off. I am obliged to avail myself of this fluid as there is 
none other nearer than Ihe River Lumi.' -, 
The last grand view of Kilima-njaro that we obtain is from the 
borders of the lake. The craterous shape of the larger peak 
becomes very massed. Here we gaze for the last time on the 
majestic lineaments of the King of African Mountains, and then 
regretfully turn our backs on him, leave the borders of the lake, and 
cross a low ridge of limestone hills that shut out Kilima-njaro and 
Jipe from our gaze. Our faces are now turned towards the fine 
mountains of Parc, which, though not ascending to any greater 
height than 7,000 or S,ooo feet, still are so admirably picturesque in 
outline that they recall, with their green valleys and tumbling 
streams, the mountain scenery of Wales. 
In the plains below the soil is rich, black, and alluvial, and green 
grass grows luxuriantly, together with some lovely lilies, whose 
white blossoms star the prairie in all directions. Here I see more 
game at once than I have ever seen in Africa. It is a sportsman’s 
paradise—a delicious dream of happy hunting grounds hardly to be 
realised in this life. Hundreds and hundreds of giraffes scud before 
us ; herds of elands (the bulls in deep dun colour, with glossy hides 
that look like satin in the noonday sun) saunter along, now nibbling 
the sweet grass, now trotting off as we advance. Myriads of red 
hartebeests, sable antelopes, pallahs, and zebras stud the undulating 
plain, while a small group of ostriches may be observed on our left- 
hand side, and a rhinoceros stands under the shade of a mimosa to 
the right of the path, flicking his short tail from side to side, and 
watching the movements of the caravan with suspicion. Alas ! 
They have no reason to fear me. Waterless, dead beat, and sun- 
stricken, it needs all my resolution painfully to plod along the path, 
and I am quite incapable of stalking big game when I doubt if I 
shall have sufficient force left to carry me to our camping-place 
at Ngurungani. 
Arrived here in the early afternoon we find a large force of Mosai 
camped round the drinking-pools, and it needs more than an hour’s 
patient diplomacy to keep these worthies from submitting us to 
indiscriminate slaughter; we only, in fact, induce them to leave 
us alone and go their way by adopting an unworthy subterfuge, and 
assuring them that we have small-pox (a disease they much dread) 
in our caravan. The next day we camp at Kisiwani, a pretty spot 
at the foot of the Parc hills. Then twenty miles further on we come 
to the fruitful and pleasing district of Gouja, a settlement of Wa- 
zeguha, ruled by the sons of Semboja, the Chief of Western 
Usambara. Here signs of coast-influence are quite apparent, and, 
(or the first time leaving Mombasa at the commencement of the 
expedition, I knew I was not among savages. 
Gouja, with its clear, swift river, its groves of forest trees, its 
luxuriant plantations, reminds us of our favourite Taveita, and wefeela 
keen sympathy with thisplace, which is the first habitable spot we have 
encountered in seventy miles of wilderness. At the back of Gouja, 
in the Parc hills, the scenery is encbantingly lovely—wooded crags, 
rich valleys, emerald-green banana groves, rippling streams, and 
splendid waterfalls, one of which, another Staubbach, gives rise to 
the river which encircles the town. We can see its grey-white shoot 
of descending water in the distance, too far off to show the changing 
light of motion, and apparently as unvarying and immobile as the 
blue hill-side, just like a photographed waterfall. On a little 
peninsula backed by hills, and nearly surrounded by a loop of the 
river, the rambling village of Gouja is built, the whole congeries of 
houses being encircled with a tall fence of euphorbias and other 
prickly shrubs. The dwellings are fashioned much after the style of 
the native houses on the coast—structures of wattle and clay, 
generally divided into several apartments. 
The upper classes in Gouja, and especially those connected with 
the family of the Chief Semboja, look like Arabs in their complexion 
and physiognomy. They have, however, woolly hair. I question 
them as to their origin, but they do not acknowledge Arab inter¬ 
mixture ; nevertheless, they are evidently a cross breed, though the 
intermixture maybe and probably is ancient. They are the outpost 
of—may I call it civilisation ?—and Mohammedanism in this part of 
Africa. Here one’s life is quite safe, here no presents are asked for, 
and here money is taken and understood. Plow curious is the 
spread of the influence of a strong Government ! Since 
the days that India has been well governed under 
British rule, her commerce and her currency have 
begun to extend themselves widely over Eastern 
Africa, from Somali-land to Natal, and here in the 
market-place of Gouja, nearly a hundred miles from 
the coast, you will find the people talking of pice, 
annas, and rupees, and see the image and super¬ 
scription of Tier Majesty the Empress of India cir¬ 
culating fieely among the various tribes who come 
hither to trade. 
We rest a day in this pleasant spot, and then walk 
on in two or three stages until the mountain walls of 
Usambara (rising a clear 4,000 feet or more from the 
plain below, like giant cliffs) stand over us, and the 
residence of Semboja is reached. Here we see the 
red flag of Zanzibar flying, and are informed that 
Semboja, the most powerful chief between Kilima¬ 
njaro and the coast, delights to number himself 
among the vassals of Sayyid Barghash. I take 
advantage of this to present the letter of introduction 
given me by the Sultan of Zanzibar, and the epistle 
produces a pleasant and palpable result in a present 
of goats and bullocks. The chief, in fact, is vastly 
hospitable, and will not let me leave till he has had a 
good long gossip. On parting with him I give him a 
good fowling-piece and some other articles, princi¬ 
pally clothing, and we both exchange assurances of 
sincere friendship. 
On leaving his capital we make for the Ruva River 
—which takes its rise in Lake Jipe—and, following 
its banks for three days, at length arrive at the sea- 
coast, and draw up in the town of Pangani, where I 
install myself in the comfortable house belonging to 
the Universities Mission. Here I get some of the 
sweetest foretastes of civilisation. Though the build¬ 
ing is unoccupied save by the caretaker, it has been 
recently visited by the missionaries, and they have 
left behind an ample store of magazines, Weekly Times and 
Gtaphics , and after being cut off for so many months from the outer, 
world, I throw myself like a famished creature on all this store of 
journalistic pabulum. 
In three days’ time my caravan men are paid off, and I leave for 
Zanzibar in an Arab dhow. Arrived in the Metropolis of Eastern 
Africa (it will soon be called the Necropolis if people go on dying as 
rapidly as they have done lately), I find that though verbal 
encouragement beyond measure has been sent me to continue my 
work in Eastern Africa, there is, as a matter of fact, no fresh grant 
of funds, so regretfully I take my passage in a British India steamer 
to Aden. After a few days at this unjustly vilified spot, when per¬ 
haps the kind hospitality of the President caused me to view every¬ 
thing loo much—not coulettr de rose, that would be out of place in 
Aden where a hot red tint preponderates—but catlleur de verdure , I 
set out for Suez, spent a few days in Egypt, and reached London via 
Brindisi, within little more than six weeks since I last saw the snow 
peaks of Kilima-njaro from the reedy shores of Lake Jipe. Thus 
ends the hasty sketch of my journey to the Snow Mountain of 
Eastern Equatorial Africa. 
A summary of the results of my researches and observations in 
Natural History shall be given you in another and concluding 
Supplement. H. H. Johnston 
KILIMA-NJARO SEEN PROM LAKE Jip£ 
