As we landed from the boats and looked up at this town we really asked ourselves if this were Uganda. There are rows of neat villas with the strips of gardens back and front resembling the bijous of London suburban life; splendid wide roads with avenues of trees planted; a market with an English butcher, a dairy, an Indian bakery where delicious little loaves can be purchased for four annas, and an aggressive Indian firm that is the William Whiteley of Uganda, and manufactures mineral waters at two annas per bottle, are some among the many surprises. There is a very cosmopolitan population, and comparatively few of the real natives—Baganda—are seen in the town. The fifty or more Europeans made it feel very homelike after the isolated life in Toro; and yet after the first surprised impressions had partially worn off, one was conscious of two distinct elements running side by side—the English and the African—without actually becoming assimilated the one by the other. The result was that so many reminders of England brought with them feelings of home-sickness, but the next moment one was sympathising with the country yokel in London who pined for the rusticity of village home life. Our four days there were spent very pleasantly. Colonel Sadler, H.M. Commissioner, Mrs. Sadler, and several friends were most kind and hospitable; indeed we were almost strangers to our tents. A visit to the Botanical Gardens was most interesting. Mr. Mahon, who was then in charge, took us round and pointed out the tea, coffee, cocoa and cotton shrubs which gave promise of agreeing very amiably with their newly-adopted land. Fruit trees, vines and pine apples were also being experimented on, and the flower beds were aflame with colour. The idea is, I believe, to test what flourishes successfully in the Uganda soil, then to send out cuttings and encourage the cultivation of that plant throughout the Protectorate. Colonel Coles, who is in command of the troops, is a very keen horticulturalist, and has been most successful in rose-growing and in bringing to perfection the native crinum lily. Leaving Entebbe, we made for Port Munyonyo by canoe, which took six hours in consequence of a wind working against us all the way. Reaching the Port at 5.0 p.m. we had no time to inspect the vigorous dhow-building that was in operation. We hurried off on our seven to eight mile walk into Mengo, which we reached just after seven o’clock. A roast leg of goat and steaming potatoes were being served up by our kind hostess as we entered. I think we had rarely enjoyed a dinner more than that one, as we had eaten nothing since 7.0 a.m. excepting two cold sausages and some bread and milk, the only things procurable from our food basket in the canoe.