Lake Kiwu and its Islands 109 



bounded by the blue Congo mountains, ten kilometres away, on 

 the west, and yet which appear so close in the rarefied air that 

 it seems one could almost touch them. Before us to the east 

 and north our eyes rest on the dark primeval forest of the 

 island through which we, the first Europeans to do so, have 

 roamed during the past six days. The boughs of a mighty 

 acacia tree form a beautiful canopy over our heads under the 

 deep blue African heavens, and leave a gap just large enough 

 for the moon to shine through and illuminate our festive board. 

 By a lucky coincidence the moon is very nearly full to-day, and 

 she shines as I have seen her do only on very cold nights at 

 home. We have music also, certainly not in the shape of a 

 Hungarian band, but one scarcely inferior. Myriads of little 

 crickets and grasshoppers, sitting in the reed-beds along the 

 banks of the lake, strike up a concert as if hosts of tiny smiths 

 were smiting anvils with silver hammers in the womb of 

 the earth. So I would not exchange the glorious African 

 splendour for the gaieties of Berlin. It is only the friends 

 feasting there whom I would dearly like to see. Possibly one 

 or other amongst them may now and then give a fleeting thought 

 to the most distant corner of the Dark Continent. Wishes for 

 their constant well-being shall be rung from our goblets to-night, 

 which, although only made of enamelled tin, shall be filled with 

 good Moselle. But in particular we will drink to the bridal 

 pair, for whom we wish to-day to be a day of joy and the 

 beginning of the highest happiness. Menelik, our mess boy, 

 has just come up and called out, " Chakida tajari " (" Dinner is 

 ready "). We are to have soup with vegetables, baked Kiwu 

 perch, and wild duck. Then butter and cheese, coffee and 

 cigars. Not at all a bad bill of fare." 



That was our last evening on the island of Kwidschwi, and a 

 right merry one it was. The charms of the tropical night com- 

 bined with the " Brauneberger " to unloose the tongue of our quiet 

 botanist, and betrayed him into pouring out generous effusions 

 from his rich store of poems. When at length we retired to 



