280 Capt. B. Alexander on the 



during my absence at the front my Portuguese collector, 

 Joe^ Lopez, did excellent -vvork, and obtained examples of 

 many scarce and little-known species of birds. There were 

 many difficulties to contend with. The rainy season had set 

 in, the leaves dripped with moisture, and water knee-deep 

 blocked the forest-paths ; Avhile a small native mud-hut with 

 a leaky roof and a heavy damp atmosphere were sufficient 

 to prevent my skins from drying properly. As the country 

 became more settled, my collector worked his way gradually 

 up to Kumassi, and, owing in a great measure to the con- 

 sideration shown to him by officers and men alike of the Field 

 Force, he was enabled to make important collections at each 

 station on the lines of communication. In the forest, with 

 its thick undergrowth and high trees, the 12-bore gun with 

 No. 8 shot was the most useful, while the small " 410 " 

 collecting-guns served us well in the less enclosed portions. 



From Cape Coast the forest extends for about 200 miles 

 inland. The ground rises by gentle gradients, till the 

 Mouse Hills, 1900 feet in height, are reached. Here the 

 ascent is very steep, but afterwards there is a gradual fall to 

 Kumassi, where the level is 690 feet. 



Sometimes the narrow footpath passes through deep streams 

 and stagnant pools, at other times through utter darkness, 

 where gigantic bamboos meet overhead and form a thick 

 covered way, dank and steamy. On first entering the forest, 

 a sense of relief from the burning sun is experienced, but 

 this soon gives way to a feeling of depression. The eternal 

 dull green of the foliage, unrelieved by any shafts of 

 light, offers no change to the eye, and the huge columns of 

 the india-rubber- and cotton-trees, once objects of wonder, 

 soon cease to become so from their very number. 



But the forest is not all like this ; for there are spots 

 where the sun can penetrate. In such localities, and in the 

 vicinity of villages and spaces cleared by the natives for their 

 farms, the bird-life is wonderful. Weaver-birds in gorgeous 

 breeding-plumage — some studies in yellow, others in scarlet 

 and black — make a buzzing chatter in the tall forest-trees. 

 The " lu-lu " cry of a Golden Oriole {Oriolus nigripennis) 



