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Here we are at last, amid the tropical vegetation which makes a green and tangled girdle around D'Urban for a dozen miles inland: yonder is the white and foaming line of breakers which marks where the strong current, sweeping down the east coast, brings along with it all the sand and silt it can collect, especially from the mouth of the Umgeni River close by, and so forms the dreaded bar, which divides the outer from the inner harbor.
The second breakfast over, farewells were spoken with, in some cases, the promise to meet again speedily and the voyagers separated, some to make their way home to their sugar or coffee estates in the neighbourhood, others to take train to more distant localities, some three or four being bound as far afield as Johannesburg or Pretoria and Dick, with his friend Grosvenor, set out to wander about the town of Durban, inspect the shops, pass through the aristocratic quarter of the Berea, per tram, and finally, on a couple of horses hired from the hotel stable, to ride out to the River Umgeni, and thence to Sea Cow Lake, in the vain hope of getting a sight of a few of the hippopotami that were said to still haunt that piece of water; finally returning to the hotel in time for dinner, hot, tired, but supremely happy, and delighted with everything that they had seen.
The weather cleared, and I made another start, but the condition of the roads was such that I was unable to travel at more than half my usual rate. Next day, just after I crossed the Umgeni River, the rain came down again. I intended to get to Maritzburg that night, but was only able to reach the heights from which that town is visible.
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