St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1903-04-22
FROM PRETORIA TO LONDON VIA
CAIRO. |.
waterfall Onder to DcIagoa Bay.

We passed through very wild, varied
and beautiful scenery between Waterva
Onder and the seaport. Grand, lofty
granite boulders, like those where Cecil J.
Rhodes rests in the Matoppos, were to bt
seen. Huge valleys filed with small
carelesslv constructed native huts and
big fields OF maize, lovely rounded hill
sides like those of the Berkshire hills in
Massachusetts,, long jung'es OF miomosa
acacia, euphorbia, palms and dense under
brush. We came through the EIand S
valley, through which the Glands river
runs, low-ying deadly region, to W hich
men and cemetery containing scores OF
graves OF engineers, gaugets, and other
railway men, testihes to those who laid
down their lives, ruthlessly slain by rapid
fever when this railway was being con-
structed. Further on is Nootge dacht,
where British prisoners were taken by
the Beers from Waterfall and the Race,
course near Pretoria, low-lying, sickly
place and white, cleaning gravestones,
as We passed, told us of the fate OF some
All along this line, on every high peak or
koppie, or place commanding a wide
view are blockhouses, now, happily,
unused, but testiiying to Lord Kitchen
er's scheme to make chain of forts.
Pretty, picturesque little places they
look, some of them, made like Swiss
chalets of galvanized iron, but Oh how
hot, how desolate, how dreary they
must have been, and what an amount OF
bravery and obedience must have been
the share of every man who held them.
At Komati Poort we entered a very
hot region, and soon came to the juno
ton betw Transvaal and Portuguese
Territory, at Ressano Garcia, where
white marble obelisk stands. Do you re-
call the picture Of the one in George Ken.
mans book of the one between Siberia
and Russia? This reminds me of that,
but gladly do | note that this, as yet, is
not connected with any tragic history.
Here rolls the wide Komati river and
above a little way, the Sabi enters it,
coming from the vast interior. We
travelled for miles beside the Komati,
with its seedy banks, and is jungle cover
ed sides, and here and there through the
bush cleaned the whitish yellow trunk
of the fever tree, known to grow wher-
ever the deadly African fever claimed its
victims. 1t is conspicuous and the tops
are covered with an inconspicous foliage,
making it stand out--white and drear-
amid the rich African foliage. From
Ressano Garcia for few hours the hea,
was oppressive and intense. The officials
along the line changed and became some
what stately Portuguese in rather gay
uniform, and with the arms of Mozam.
bique on epaulette and buttons. After
long ride through low lying thorn bush,
past palms OF three varities growing in
luxuriance, past dwarf euphorbias and
alots, we caught a CLEAN of the marshes.
Salt breezes were waited to us, ships at
anchor in the bay raised their stately
masts, lofty cocoa palms in the town
were to be seen and we steamed into
Lourenco Marques, the port OF Deagoa
Bay. A kind friend met US, and putting
our luggage into rickshas, we passed the
crowds OF black Zanzibaris, the Chinese
standing about, the noisy coolies, away
from the heat and crush of the station
where loud chattering in native dialects
-Portugese, German and French-caused
dreadful din, and were soon vending
our way to the most healthful hotel. the
Cardozo, on the headlands of Reuben
Point. We saw the British and Ameri
can consulates, the neatly kept govern
or's residence, and the houses of the
weather. Portuguese and English. We
dined with our friends and in the evening
set out in the moonlight overlooking the
hne stretch of Indian Ocean, and listen.
ing to the "angelus an instrument which
can be connected with either a cabinet
organ or piano, and which gave out soft,
sweet classical music. 1t is of the pianola
order, but as played by our host, himself
a tne musician, it was a treat indeed
Alter resttul night at the Cardozo, and
an escape from mosquitoes, and a lutte
chat with the capable little Scotch man.
ageress, who seems to hold an interior
position, but whose ability is such that
she rises above it, we went into the
town and saw the narrow streets, houses
covered with blue tiles, whitewashed in
/ pale green and indigo blues, the multi
tude OF Alosks OF every grade and sort,
where tea, coffee, lemonade and Portu-
gese wines are sold; the wild fig tree
avenues, the eucalyptus boulevard and
the shops. Our host of the evening be.
tore gave me a delightful little brochure
FROM Barberton to Paris, By the East
Coast Route written by a cultured
Roman Catholic priest, whom we knew
IN Pretoria III 1903 This is probably
the most careful outline given OF this
route, but as it is dated ia 1897, there
have since been many changes. At half
| past one we started for the uLr o;eor ,