In Wildest Africa ^ 



I should like to set in contrast with this mighty 

 primeval harmony of the wilderness the sounds and 

 voices of the modern industrial world, which gradually 

 and unwittingly we take to be something natural. He 

 who would feel all its greatness and perfection must keep 

 himself far away for weeks and months from the screaming 

 whisde he hears on the railway and the howling siren of 

 a steamship. 



Then there is the insect world ! Those flower-covered 

 bushes have attracted a multitude of great droning beetles. 

 They hasten to them in heavy flight. On the ground 

 a host of scarab^us beetles are busy with their special 

 work. The ceaseless sharp chirps of the cicadas sing 

 their continual song. Through all its variations there 

 eoes on this hum and buzz of the millions and millions 

 of the lower creation. And joined with it there ring 

 out the thousands and thousands of songs of the birds ; 

 the powerful voices of the great mammals bellow over 

 plain and bushland, through swamps and primeval forests, 

 over dale and hill. The concert of the feathered songsters 

 is suddenly silent, as, it may be, the harsh cry of the 

 leopard resounds, or the mighty, dull, rumbling roar of 

 the king of the desert thunders over the earth ; or the 

 trumpet-like cry of the elephant vibrates through the 

 woods ; or harsh war-cries from human lips, battle-songs 

 of primitive men, are heard — but heedless of it all, even 

 at these moments, day and night resound the weak voices 

 of all the myriads of lesser creatures of the animal world. 

 But he who penetrates into this wilderness must have 

 receptive senses to understand the full beauty of it all. 



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