South African Memories: Social, Warlike & Sporting from Diaries Written at the TimeWilson, Sarah Isabella Augusta, Lady
History
South African Memories: Social, Warlike & Sporting from Diaries Written at the Time
Wilson, Sarah Isabella Augusta, Lady
South Africa -- Description and travel; South African War, 1899-1902 -- Personal narratives
Owing to this calamity, however, the stores on the north bank were
wellnigh run out of their usual stock, but I was amazed to find such
luxuries of life as eau de Cologne, scented soaps, ladies' boots and
shoes, and brightly coloured skirts. Leaving the small river
township--the embryo Livingstone--we followed a very sandy road uphill
till we reached the summit of Constitution Hill, already mentioned.
There our buggy and two small, well-bred ponies swept into a
smartly-kept compound surrounded by a palisade, the feature of the
square being a flagstaff from which the Union Jack was proudly
fluttering. As a site for a residence Constitution Hill could not well
be surpassed, and many a millionaire would cheerfully have given his
thousands to obtain such a view as that which met our eyes from the
humble huts, and held me enthralled during the whole of my stay. It must
be remembered we had been travelling, since leaving the rail-head,
eighty miles north of Bulawayo, through a thickly wooded and mountainous
country where any extensive views were rare. Even when nearing the
Zambesi, with the roar of the Falls in one's ears, so little opening-up
had hitherto been done that only an occasional peep of coming glories
was vouchsafed us; hence the first glimpse of a vast stretch of country
was all the more striking. I must ask my readers to imagine the bluest
of blue skies; an expanse of waving grass of a golden hue, resembling an
English cornfield towards the harvest time, stretching away till it is
lost in far-distant tropical vegetation of intense green, which green
clearly marks the course of the winding Zambesi; again, amid this
emerald verdure, patches of turquoise water, wide, smooth, unruffled,
matching the heavens in its hue, are to be seen--no touch of man's hand
in the shape of houses or chimneys to mar the effect of Nature and
Nature's colouring. If you follow with your eyes this calm, reposeful
river, now hiding itself beneath its protecting banks with their wealth
of branching trees, tall cocoanut palms, and luxuriant undergrowth, now
emerging like a huge blue serpent encrusted with diamonds, so brightly
does the clear water sparkle in the sun, you note that it finally loses
itself in a heavy, impenetrable mass of green forest. And now for a few
moments the newcomer is puzzled to account for a dense white cloud,
arisen apparently from nowhere, which is resting where the forest is
thickest and most verdant, now larger, then smaller, anon denser or more
filmy, but never changing its place, never disappearing, while the
distant thunder, to which you had almost got accustomed, strikes upon
your ear and gives the explanation you are seeking.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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