staple health; behind me were the troubles which had harassed me for over two months.  With that dishonest son of a Hindi, Soor Hadji Palloo, I had said my last word; of the blatant rabble, of Arabs, Banyans, and Baluches I had taken my last look; with the Jesuits of the French Mission I had exchanged farewells, and before me beamed the sun of promise as he sped towards the Occident.  Loveliness glowed around me.  I saw fertile fields, riant vegetation, strange trees—­I heard the cry of cricket and pee-wit, and sibilant sound of many insects, all of which seemed to tell me, “At last you are started.”  What could I do but lift my face toward the pure-glowing sky, and cry, “God be thanked!”

The first camp, Shamba Gonera, we arrived at in 1 hour 30 minutes, equal to 3 1/4 miles.  This first, or “little journey,” was performed very well, “considering,” as the Irishman says.  The boy Selim upset the cart not more than three times.  Zaidi, the soldier, only once let his donkey, which carried one bag of my clothes and a box of ammunition, lie in a puddle of black water.  The clothes have to be re-washed; the ammunition-box, thanks to my provision, was waterproof.  Kamna perhaps knew the art of donkey-driving, but, overjoyful at the departure, had sung himself into oblivion of the difficulties with which an animal of the pure asinine breed has naturally to contend against, such as not knowing the right road, and inability to resist the temptation of straying into the depths of a manioc field; and the donkey, ignorant of the custom in vogue amongst ass-drivers of flourishing sticks before an animal’s nose, and misunderstanding the direction in which he was required to go, ran off at full speed along an opposite road, until his pack got unbalanced, and he was fain to come to the earth.  But these incidents were trivial, of no importance, and natural to the first “little journey” in East Africa.

The soldiers’ point of character leaked out just a little.  Bombay turned out to be honest and trusty, but slightly disposed to be dilatory.  Uledi did more talking than work; while the runaway Ferajji and the useless-handed Mabruki Burton turned out to be true men and staunch, carrying loads the sight of which would have caused the strong-limbed hamals of Stamboul to sigh.

The saddles were excellent, surpassing expectation.  The strong hemp canvas bore its one hundred and fifty-pounds’ burden with the strength of bull hide, and the loading and unloading of miscellaneous baggage was performed with systematic despatch.  In brief, there was nothing to regret—­the success of the journey proved our departure to be anything but premature.

The next three days were employed in putting the finishing touches to our preparations for the long land journey and our precautions against the Masika, which was now ominously near, and in settling accounts.