CHAPTER VII. 



HOIMA AND THE ALBERT NYANZA. 



It is now six weeks since I left London, and I have 

 travelled by land and sea, by train, steamer, rickshaw, 

 trolley, bicycle, mule, and last but not least, on my 

 own feet, for a distance of six thousand miles to reach 

 my destination. The map of Uganda, which, of 

 course, is somewhat in its infancy, hints at Hoima 

 being rather an important town, and consequently it 

 is printed big enough to catch the eye of the 

 interested observer, and to instil him with some 

 assurance that he might have been sent to some 

 more insignificant station. It was accordingly in a 

 hopeful spirit that, after crossing the perfect 

 succession of hills and valleys which I mentioned 

 before, I at last viewed my new home. I was 

 doomed, however, to suffer some disappointment. 

 The surrounding scenery is certainly magnificent. 

 The hill called Kampala, upon which the town is 

 built, rises up out of the centre of a plain, which 

 itself is hemmed in by a variety of quaint shaped 

 hills, remarkable for their steepness of ascent, due 

 to the powerful denudation of the heavy tropical 

 rains, and to cleavage caused by excessive changes 

 of heat and cold. 



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