'») The \'oices of the Wilderness 



of the beech woods. I am in tlic northern woods in 

 sprinLillme ; cool and fraorant the nordiern air hlows 

 round nie. Rut ah ! thousands of miles of land and sea 

 di\ ide me trom all that, and cool reflective reason coimts 

 only on the possibility, not the certainty, of my ever 

 seeing my native land a^ain. 



And yet this beautilul picture has a streni^theninf^ 

 and consoling inthience. It drives away the trouble of 

 home-sickness — a dismal thing ! 



I can hear many other voices besides these in the 

 primeval tbrest. But those that impress themselves in 

 the most completely enduring way on the memory are 

 the strange cry of the tree-hyrax, the peculiar note 

 of the hornbills, that calling of the doves, the remarkable 

 chorus song of the 'Ml)ega monkeys, strange beyond 

 all description, and the trumpeting of the lord of the 

 primeval forest, the elephant. 



Another tone-picture — an early morning at a drinking- 

 place in the desert. One could feel the cold in the 

 night, but the quick coming warmth of the equatorial 

 sun's rays has soon roused the animal world to active 

 life. There is the cry and call of the francolins on all 

 sides. But the chief part in this early concert is taken 

 by the thousands of turtle-doves, flying from all directions 

 to the water. Everywhere a murmuring and cooing, that 

 the Masai are able to re-echo so incomparably in the 

 name of the turtle-dove in their language — " 'Ndurgulyu." 

 As an accompaniment to this, there is the rustling 

 and wing-clapping of all the feathered visitors at the 

 water. Towards evening the air in the neighbourhood 



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