VISITORS 59 



up, and the water in all the streams has perceptibly- 

 diminished. The stream immediately below the terrace 

 has become all but stagnant, and in the places where 

 the water is shallow its breadth has diminished by fully 

 a third. The brown patches where the sand was moist 

 have disappeared, and the river-bed displays one uni- 

 form dry white surface, most dazzling to the eye. 



The shrinking of the streams and the drying up of 

 the sand have almost put an end to the display of 

 animal life, at least as it used to appear from this 

 terrace. The alligators have migrated to deeper waters, 

 the otter no more puts in an appearance, and even the 

 birds have moved eastward and taken up positions in 

 the neighbourhood of the main stream — not, however, 

 quite all : some three or four still remain. They stand 

 motionless, each well apart from the others, on a sand 

 bank nearly in front. These are " buggolahs," a species 

 of " waders," always to be found on the margins of the 

 rivers and drying ponds. The buggolah is not a pretty 

 bird, nor its ways interesting, yet, seen here on the river- 

 bed, it has a sort of odd attractiveness. With its dingy 

 plumage and melancholy aspect, it seems the embodi- 

 ment of the dreariness of the great, sandy waste. Its 

 quietude, its utter inoffensiveness, excite, too, for it a 

 sort of sympathy. One can almost fancy it as oppressed 

 by some great sorrow. 



Its powers of immobility are really extraordinary. 

 They almost equal those of the alligator. The bug- 

 golah will stand by the riverside for hours, its head 

 sunk between its shoulders, its long beak resting on its 

 breast. It stands thus motionless as if carved out of 



