Yes, that white cloud has been there for centuries, and will be there while the world lasts, in spite of trains, bridges, etc.  It marks the Victoria Falls, and is a landmark for many miles round.  How amazed must the great Livingstone and his intrepid followers have been to see this first sign of their grand discovery after their weary march through a country of dense forests and sandy wastes, the natural features of which could not in the least have suggested such marvels as exist in the stupendous river and the water-power to which it gives birth!  When mentioning that great explorer—­whose name in this district, after a lapse of nearly fifty years, remains a household word among the natives, handed down from father to son—­it is a curious fact, and one that should prove a lesson to many travellers from the old world as well as from the new, that only on one tree is he believed to have cut his initials in Africa, and that tree stands on the island in the centre of the Zambesi, the island that bears his name, and that absolutely overhangs and stems the centre of the awe-inspiring cataract.

I must now try in a few words to give a short account of what we saw at the Victoria Falls in July, 1903, when the breath of civilization had scarcely touched them.  To-day they are easy of access, and the changes that have been wrought have come so swiftly that, no doubt, recent visitors will scarcely recognize the localities of which I write.  I must first ask such to be lenient with me, and to follow me down the sandy road leading from the Constitution Hill Compound to the Controller’s Camp on the bank of the river, about two miles nearer the Falls.  There were to be seen a collection of huts and offices, where the Controller conducted his important business of food-purveyor to the community, and a Government inspector of cattle had equally arduous duties to perform.  I must mention that, owing to disease in the south, cattle were then not allowed to cross the Zambesi, and horses and dogs had to be disinfected before they were permitted to leave the south bank.  Their troubles were not even then over, as they had to be swum across the river, and, owing to its enormous width, the poor horses were apt to become exhausted halfway over, and had to be towed the rest of the way, their heads being kept out of the water—­an operation attended with a certain amount of risk.  It followed that very few horses were crossed over at all, and that these animals in North-Western Rhodesia were at a premium.

From the Controller’s Camp I had another opportunity to admire the river itself, just as wonderful in its way as the Falls, and I remember thinking of the delights that might be derived from boating, sailing, or steaming, on its vast surface.  Since that day the enterprising inhabitants have actually held regattas on the mighty stream, in which some of the best-known men in the annals of rowing in England have taken part.  But seven years ago our river trip was attended with