Umtali is the natural land terminus of this route, as Beira is its legitimate port. Umtali, so called from a rivulet which flows below it, was, when we were there, a scattered community of huts, now brought together in a ‘township’ at a more favourable spot, about five miles distant from the former site, which township the British South Africa Company hope to call Manica, and to make it the capital of that portion of Manicaland which they so dexterously, to use an Africander term, ‘jumped’ from the Portuguese. Of all their camps Umtali was the most favourably situated that we visited, enjoying delicious air, an immunity from swamps and fevers, lovely views, and many flowers. On the ridge, where the camp huts stood exposed to the violent and prevailing blasts of the south-east winds, which descend in furious gusts from the surrounding mountains, stood also the guns taken from the Portuguese, nine in all, and presenting a formidable enough appearance, until we learnt that they were useless then, for the pins were abstracted before capture. Far away on the hill slopes were the huts of the original settlers; the bishop’s palace likewise, a daub hut standing in the midst of a goodly mission farm. The hospital, with the sisters’ huts, crowned another eminence, and the newly made fort stood on the highest point, from which glorious views could be obtained over the sea of Manica mountains, the rich red soil and green vegetation, so pleasant a change to the eye after the everlasting grey granite kopjes of Mashonaland and its uniform vegetation. Of ancient Portuguese remains there are several in the neighbourhood of Umtali fort, where centuries ago the pioneers held their own for awhile against native aggression. To-day, if you dine at the officers’ mess at Umtali, you find evidences of Portugal of another nature. You sit on Portuguese chairs and feed off Portuguese plates obtained from the loot at Massi-Kessi; and when the governor of that district came to pay an amicable visit to the governor of Umtali, they had nothing to seat him on save his own chairs, nothing to feed him off save his own plates, and nothing to give him to eat save his own tinned meats. But Portuguese politeness rose to the occasion, and no remarks were made.