Banana groves are gradually springing up over the country, for the Batoro are emulating the example of the Baganda in adopting the unsweetened banana called “Matoke” as their staple food. Formerly they lived entirely on “Bura,” a small millet which possesses a very low percentage of nutritive quality. The only thing that commends it is the infinitesimal amount of labour needed for its cultivation, and this is the chief consideration of these folk. They grind the grain between two stones which gradually crumble away in the process, making the food when cooked hardly distinguishable from boiled sand. Ruwenzori gives the whole kingdom of Toro a very plentiful water supply. The streams, flowing down from the ever-melting snow and ice, unite and form clear and swift rivers which provide the land with pure cold water, but at the same time make the country difficult for travelling about in. The crude bridges made by the natives get washed away in the rainy season, which often monopolises nine months out of the twelve. The mountains seem to attract every cloud that rises above the horizon. Nature indulges in most phenomenal pranks out there. There may be a perfectly bright cloudless afternoon, when suddenly it looks as if all the clouds of heaven had been unchained and let loose. From every direction they gather in impenetrable blackness, then girding themselves with fury, they burst forth and, with a hurricane in their wake, menace Toro with a few angry tears of passion and break with roars of thunder and tongues of fire on Ruwenzori’s side. Failing to shake that mountain ridge, they rebound and empty themselves upon Kabarole. In a few minutes the whole country is a wash-out; the hills send down sheets of water, and so do our thatched roofs. Unless these are under constant repair, all our little black boys, when they see a storm coming, are armed with pots, pans, basins, and dishes, and stand about in the rooms to catch the rain water, and so save themselves the trouble of going to the spring.