i8 NAIVASHA AND VICTORIA NYANZA 



springs of boiling water. There is a mystery about 

 this lake with its fresh water and no apparent outlet, 

 hardly rising or falling in the heaviest rains or in 

 the longest drought ; and many stories are told of 

 underground rivers and of water heard falling into 

 vast caverns. There is a mystery, too, about the 

 beginning of the lake ; it is said that the grandfather 

 of the oldest inhabitant remembers a time when 

 there was no lake here, but these are problems 

 rather for the geologist or the collector of folk-lore. 



To the wandering naturalist, whether his bent be 

 towards birds, beasts, butterflies, or plants, Naivasha 

 is one of the happy hunting-grounds that he has 

 dreamt of, but has never hoped to see. The margin 

 of the lake is fringed with sedges, tall reeds, and 

 papyrus. Beyond the papyrus is a marvel of water- 

 lilies, pink and white and blue, but mostly blue. 

 Where the shallows extend far into the lake, there 

 may be near a mile of water-lilies. In the morning, 

 when the breeze ruffles the water and breaks up the 

 reflections, the green of the translucent upturned 

 leaves, the blue of the flowers, the orange of the sub- 

 merged stems, and the almost amethyst light of the 

 water, together make a very opal of colour. One of 

 the prettiest bird-sights I have ever had the good 

 luck to see was here. In a little bay of lilies, stand- 

 ing on the shining leaves and preening their plumage, 

 was a party of long-legged, black-winged stilts, 

 winter emigrants from the North ; round them was 

 a wall of graceful bending papyrus, and overhead 



