Bidding a last farewell to those historic waters, we plunged into the wild turmoil of hills which surround Kivu, and after a six hours’ tramp, accompanied on the way by Ngenzi and his hundred followers (not forgetting the inevitable cup-bearer with his gourd of pombe and the regal sucking-straw), climbed on to a ridge from which we saw the waters of Kivu lying at our feet. The mighty sheet of water, dotted with a hundred isles and hemmed in by a thousand imposing hills, was of surpassing beauty; the only one of the vast lakes of Central Africa which had not been first gazed upon by British eyes. *CHAPTER X.* *LAKE KIVU.* An abrupt descent led us through many straggling villages and endless banana plantations to the German Soudanese post on the extreme south-west point of the lake. We camped on a small rise opposite the Government stockade and overlooking the lake; the outlet is a long, thin arm, narrowing to where the Rusisi tumbles over the first cascades, and starts on its broken course through the hills to the point whence it finally issues on its long, long journey by Tanganyika to the sea. The body of water leaving the lake is small, but, with the numerous tributaries from east and west, soon swells to a considerable size; and forty miles from Tanganyika it is of about the same volume as the Thames at Richmond. The south-western extremity of Kivu is really a small lake in itself, separated as it is from the main body of the lake by a narrow neck, which is again almost blocked by a network of islands. On all sides long straggling promontories jut out into the water, cutting the coast-line into a multitude of lochs and bays. They are the spurs of the wild groups of hills which enclose Kivu on the east, south, and west sides, and which, ever increasing in height as they recede from the lake-shore, eventually culminate in the mighty peaks which crown the enclosing walls of this vast Rift Valley, in which Tanganyika, Kivu, the Albert Edward, and the Albert Lakes are but residuary pools. Miles and miles of banana plantations clothe the lower hills, and vast fields of peas give a touch of green to the purples, reds, and yellows of the luxuriant pastures. There are no trees in all the Kivu region nearer than the summits of the distant peaks and the slopes of the volcanoes, with the exception of a very occasional solitary tree on the extreme summit of some of the conspicuous hills. These latter are left untouched, despite the value of wood, and would appear to be held in reverential awe; they form conspicuous landmarks, which may be the primary cause of the superstitions that attach to them. Their existence points to the country having been at one time more or less wooded; and the trees which served no essential purpose have fallen before the requirements of the enormous population.