This gorge continues for forty
miles, and so desolate is the surrounding country, that not only is it
uninhabited by man, but even game cannot live there. The shadows were
lengthening and the day was approaching its close. Early on the morrow
we were to leave for the northern hunting grounds. We regained our canoe,
and paddled away to our temporary camp.
Again we were delighted with the calm beauty of that river scene, and
found it difficult to decide when it was most beautiful--whether the
morning light best gilded its glories or whether the evening lent
additional calm. We passed island after island in bewildering
succession. Away towards the drift three huge black masses were
splashing in the water, which we easily made out to be hippopotami
taking their evening bath, and as we glided along a sleepy crocodile
slipped back into the water from a muddy eminence where it had been
basking in the sun. Then our canoe ran into a creek where leaves and
ferns grew in delightful confusion, and we landed in soft marshy ground
just as the sun was sinking like a red ball into the river, and giving
way to the sovereignty of a glorious full moon, which soon tinged
everything with a silver light, making glades of palms look delightfully
romantic.
Civilization has since found its way to Livingstone.
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