After five days journeying from Ankole we reached Rakai, the capital of Koki. The C.M.S. had two ladies stationed there and an ordained Muganda. Koki was in former years an independent kingdom ruled over by Kamswaga, but in recent years it has been joined to Uganda, on the King agreeing to become a “Saza” of his stronger neighbours. Excepting for Lake Kanyeti, which twists about among rich and varied vegetation, the scenery is unattractive—in the dry season the chalky soil gives an anæmic appearance to the country, and the rather too plentiful supply of swamps necessitates a large stock of quinine being always at hand. Kamswaga himself at that time had gone up to Entebbe on business, but hearing of our expected arrival had left us a greeting in the shape of an ox and quantities of food for our caravan. Visitors in these parts were rather a novelty, and the people came down in large numbers to look at us. I returned the visit of the wife of Kamswaga before leaving. Her reception house quickly filled with a number of men and women, each trying to get a word in edgeways with the “white” visitor. A handful of boiled coffee beans in the pods was passed to me to dispense to whomsoever I wished to honour. I was obliged to take a share, but that was very limited, for they are as hard as nuts to crack and like physic to swallow. On leaving they pressed round and bedecked my wrists with all sorts of curious wire and bead bracelets which they had taken off themselves. The work being carried on there was, happily, prospering. The school, daily classes, and the church, holding two hundred people, were well attended. A whole day’s excursion in a native skiff on the Lake gave us an opportunity of seeing something of the village work that has been opened up by the Mother Church of Rakai. We could not stay longer than three days, as there was still a long programme before us. Budu was the next district on the list to be visited. This is the stronghold of Roman Catholicism. At every side road we found a tall wooden cross standing and nearly everybody wore a medallion or scapular. At Kajuna the people were evidently not accustomed to seeing European visitors, and they came tearing out of their houses like mad creatures, dancing round us and clapping their hands. It was a perfect pandemonium, and we were not sorry to escape from such a rabble.