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, '' Chakula 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 
