242 By Moimtain, Lake, and Plain 



It is remarkable how oblivious are all hunters 

 of the East, honest souls though they may be, to 

 natural beauties. In these rough -hewn chunks 

 the aesthetic sense seems almost wanting, at any 

 rate so far as nature's loveliness is concerned. 

 I can hardly remember a shikari bestowing a 

 second glance on a sublime Alpine view, a bank 

 aglow with flowery stars, or a more than usually 

 glorious sunset 



" A primrose by a river's brim 

 A yellow primrose was to him, 

 And it was nothing more." 



It may be that in this particular faculty their 

 evolution has not proceeded far enough. The 

 enjoyment occasioned in us by lovely scenery 

 must, I imagine, have existed in the brains of 

 our ancestors as a feeling of pleasure in seeing 

 before them a likely - looking hunting - ground. 

 The elementary instinct of the past, having lost 

 its primary use, becomes the aesthetic sensation 

 of the present. Eahmat and his tribe, however, 

 are still hunting animals, and to them the forest 

 glade, the silent pool, the purple upland, appeal 

 as such, and "nothing more." 



Well, no deer had shown themselves, and I 

 was watching the passing day and debating 

 whether it would not be the wiser course to make 



