THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS 



and who lived in the treetops, had four phrases to 

 impart. He said them very deliberately, with due 

 pause between each; then he repeated them rapidly; 

 finally he said them all over again with an exasper- 

 ated bearing-down emphasis. The joke of it is I 

 cannot now remember just how they went! An- 

 other feathered pedagogue was continually warning 

 us to go slow; very good advice near an African 

 jungle. "Poley-poley! poley-poley!" he warned 

 again and again; which is good Swahili for "slowly! 

 slowly!" We always minded him. There were 

 many others, equally impressed with their own wis- 

 dom, but the one I remember with most amusement 

 was a dilatory person who apparently never got 

 around to his job until near sunset.- Evidently he 

 had contracted to deliver just so many warnings 

 per diem: and invariably he got so busy chasing 

 insects, enjoying the sun, gossiping with a friend, 

 and generally footling about that the late afternoon 

 caught him unawares with never a chirp accom- 

 plished. So he sat in a bush and said his say over 

 and over just as fast as he could without pause for 

 breath or recreation. It was really quite a feat. 

 Just at dusk, after two hours of gabbling, he would 

 reach the end of his contracted number. With a 

 final relieved chirp he ended. 



It has been said that African birds are "songless." 



