“I find there is a good opportunity of writing a line home, as a trader is going with a waggon straight to Hope Town, and starts to-morrow. He has only been a fortnight coming here from Bamangwato, so he travels pretty quickly. You will, no doubt, before you get this, have received the last letter I sent you, in which I think I told you that my visit to the Victoria Falls had been abandoned. I was within 150 to 200 miles of them, and had made every preparation for the journey, having got the king’s leave to proceed, escorted by one of his chief men, and was already packing the things for the bearers to carry (twenty was the number I required, though I should have been content with fifteen), when all at once the unforeseen difficulty of getting a sufficient number of them presented itself. The king had told me there would be no difficulty, but I was then fifty miles from him, having taken my waggon to be left at Inyati, whence I was starting on my walk to the Falls. I see now clearly enough that I was deceived by the man who was given to assist me, or by the headman of Inyati, who had made no attempt to get the men for me, but lulled me with fair promises, whilst in reality doing all he could to prevent my obtaining them. The fact was my guide did not wish me to go to the Zambesi; partly, no doubt, because they would have had to hurry more than might have been agreeable, but principally from fear of the fever, of which they have a great dread. The king, however, knew what he was doing when he assured me that for two months to come there was no danger whatever, and this was far more time than enough to accomplish my much-desired object. “I have now spent two months in the neighbourhood of Inyati, sometimes leaving the waggon for days, and sleeping in the veldt. This was always satisfactorily managed even on a pouring wet night, as the Kafirs in a few minutes build you a hut of branches, perfectly water-tight, with a bed of dry grass upon which to place your bedding. Two Englishmen, tourists, have visited the Falls this season, and I hear that one of them said they were so fine he would rather walk barefoot from Durban to see them than leave them unseen. (Mrs. Thomson, finding me writing in the dark, has just sent Mr. T. to me with a candle, which I hope will improve the style of my letter, for I fear it wants it.) The old guide, who was given me by the king, and whom I suspect of doing me out of the Zambesi, was very anxious for me to go to the king to-day, as he has to deliver me back to him in person, and never lets me go out of his sight for a moment if he can help it. This opportunity of writing home, however, is keeping me this evening.