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[73 overwritten] 74
On Monday early Miss C and I were dressed and ready for shore. As usual at these ports we took a small row boat with black men for oarsmen and went ashore for a tikkie each (6 ets) The little trolley pushed by Natives was not to be seen and the sun was blazing and no shade at hand. So we slowly toiled up the hill where we found the cars and entering one we were soon rattling on our course toward the town. On Saturday morning before we were up our Nairobi passengers were gone, but previous steamers had brought so many passengers for this booming town that there was no room on the train for more and we saw all the people disconsolately moving about and mopping their foreheads. They would get off at noon. When in town, we took a ricksha and visited the old Portuguese fort, now used as a prison, found some good photos, visited the market, a queer place containing queer things, and kept and patronized by Natives, Arabs and E Indians, and were soon ready to return to the ship. There are [comparatively?] few whites Miss Cameron called at the Bank of India where British men were at the head, and E. Indians clerks. Thanking our stars that our fate did not lie there, we got back as soon as possible. At four o'clock Miss C and I accepted the invitation of Mr. Schneiders, a table mate, very young, and went out for a two hours sail. It was a delightful experience. We turned around a point of land and found ourselves in a big bay surrounded by distant mountains, over which the Uganda Ry passes. The banks were densely covered with cocoanuts