238 THE BONDS OF AFRICA 



of long ago. A strange people, with an unknown 

 history, their habitation is in those wild moun- 

 tains which tower above the region of the Great 

 Lakes where the clouds of heaven mingle with 

 the forests of earth. I have watched those clouds 

 waft away over the bamboo-clad slopes of Mount 

 Londiani and the warm face of the sun shine 

 through their fast-disappearing mists, and men- 

 tally I have drawn a parallel between the 

 dispersing vapours and the inevitable extinction 

 of the barbaric natives who inhabit these fast- 

 nesses. The high altar of civilization demands 

 many sacrifices, and the day is not far distant 

 when the curious children of Sumatwa, with 

 their skin head-dresses, their crudely fashioned 

 garments of hide, and their semi-animal habits, 

 will, like the better-known Maoris and Sioux, 

 be offered up to satisfy the ambitions of an age of 

 advance. Londiani will look down on the world 

 as of yore, the purple dome of Longonot will 

 still raise its head over that great rift in the 

 earth's surface which extends from the Dead 

 Sea to the cleft of Lake Nyasa, but they alone 

 will miss those whom they had known for ages 

 as the inhabitants by law of right of the lovely 

 land lying below them. 



Continuing my journey across East Africa, 

 I reached one morning the curious little port of 

 Kisumu or Port Florence on Lake Victoria 

 Nyanza. Recent surveys have indicated that 

 Victoria Nyanza is the largest lake in the world. 

 At any rate, only Superior can dispute its claim, 

 and no other body of inland water possesses 

 such a haunting charm as this does. In the 

 early morning the face of the waters is as placid 

 as a mill-pond. A miniature archipelago of 

 islets, all robed in the gorgeous raiment of the 



