The natives of British Central Africa

								

Cataracts—the usual terminus is Katunga’s, about twelve miles below them.
In the dry season they cannot always come within sight of Chiromo, and,
during the great drought of 1903, the natives of that place were hoeing
their maize-gardens far out in the channel of the river. The salt Lake
Chilwa, east of the Shiré, disappeared almost, if not quite, at that
time, but reappeared with subsequent rains. It is thought, however, that
there is a continuous fall in the level of Nyasa, which is unaffected by
the rise and fall of successive seasons. In some places a series of old
beaches can be traced, ascending like terraces from the lake-shore to the
foot-hills.
This fall is attributed to several causes—the wearing away of the outlet
channel, allowing more water to escape; the disappearance of the forests
and consequent diminution of the rainfall; and the raising of the ground
by volcanic action. There are not now any active volcanoes in the
country, but earthquakes are common in the neighbourhood of the lake, and
there are hot springs near Kotakota, and also on Mount Morambala (Lower
Shiré). Mlanje Mountain is of volcanic origin; in the German territory,
north of Nyasa, there are numerous extinct volcanoes and crater-lakes.
The district called the Shiré Highlands proper is enclosed between
the Shiré, the Ruo, and Lake Chilwa. It was so named by Livingstone,
and others besides him have noticed the similarity to the Scottish
mountains, in these rugged peaks and crags of quartzite and grey granite,
especially in the dry season, when the brown grass is very nearly the
colour of the dead heather and bracken. Sochi, near Blantyre, is, in
general outline, not unlike Ben Cruachan. The highest of these mountains
are Mlanje and Zomba—they are ranges rather than mountains; or, more
precisely still, Mlanje is an isolated mass, a plateau with peaks rising
from it like buttresses—the highest point 9680 feet. The plateau has a
height of 6000 feet, and a temperate climate—cool enough for hoar-frost
at night. From these mountains the land sinks in a series of irregular
undulations, to the Shiré, covered sometimes with bush, sometimes with
the thick, coarse grass so feelingly described by all travellers, which
is really more like canes. After it is burned, as it is every year,
it is a greater nuisance than ever, for the larger stalks (about as
thick as one’s finger) never get quite consumed, and neither stand up
nor lie flat, but lie across each other at every conceivable angle—too
high to step on and too low to push one’s way under. Other mountains are
Chiperone, Chiradzulo and Tyolo, Nyambadwe and Ndirande—the two latter
close to Blantyre. It is difficult to make out their relation to each
other. At a bird’s-eye view—as from the top of Nyambadwe, or some point
on Ndirande—they look like a confused sea of peaks and ridges; but they
are more or less continuous to Zomba, and are separated from Mlanje by