A HIMALAYAN VALLEY 9 



moist ground. If numbers govern, then the spiders 

 rule the forest. Shake the branches of the conifers 

 and a cloud of tiny flies are awakened from their 

 slumber and flutter out into the day. The forest 

 teems with active life if we could but see it ; it is 

 hidden from our view in the vast immensity of the 

 scene. 



Over all there reigns at times a strange uncanny 

 silence. No wind rustles in the dark pines, the distant 

 twitter of a bird but seldom greets the ear ; the one 

 sound that breaks the solitude is the low rumble of 

 the mountain brook as a thousand feet below it leaps 

 from rock to rock in an endless succession of torrents 

 and cascades. When evening approaches the forest 

 grows still more peaceful and sublime. The setting 

 sun at times glows with a rich orange tint, and, as its 

 dying rays steal through the leafy chinks, the foliage 

 glistens with every shade of vernal. The silence 

 deepens, but the rippling brooks sing louder through 

 the trees, and as the first stars peep through the 

 canopy of heaven the majesty of the Himalayan 

 forests sinks into a perfect peace and solitude. 



Such is a very brief description of the general 

 features of Hazara. It is a necessary introduction to 

 the study of its life. I never had an opportunity of 

 visiting the northern and massive extremity of this 

 geographical wedge, but for years explored over and 

 over again the valleys, gorges and dense forest-clad 

 hills that trend gently to the south. For the naturalist 

 it is in an interesting little corner of the world. Here 

 each spring he will see the long stream of migrant 

 birds moving northward by slow degrees from the 

 stifling plains of the peninsula to the breeding-grounds 



