480 JOURNAL, BOMB A Y NA TVRAL HISTORY SOCIETY, Vol. IX. 



stone peaks and, sweeping round, was shut in to the east and south by 

 the far off mountain range of the Dawnat. A beautiful cool breeze 

 was blowing, and I sat down and thoroughly enjoyed the scene. 



However we could not loiter long, and, as the old guide said, the 

 other nest of the fishing eagle was still a long way off, and as it was 

 the afternoon now, I determined to leave it for him to investigate 

 next day and bring me the eggs if there were any, and to return now 

 the way we had come. 



The ascent had been difficult enough, but the descent, loaded as 

 we were, was, for me at any rate, most fatiguing. At one place we 

 made a detour to visit some caves. These were simply lofty hollows in 

 the rock not going in any distance. From the roof of one of the caveg 

 hung large semi-circular combs made by the large honey bee ( Apis 

 dorsata). A bamboo ladder rested against the side of the cave, and the 

 old Karen informed me that he farmed all the honey and wax on this hill. 

 He had purchased the sole right of collecting from the man who had 

 bought the right of collecting honey and wax throughout the Ataran 

 Valley at the yearly auction in theDeputy Commissioner's Court. At the 

 entrance to the cave we saw the marks of bears, and the old man said 

 that two species— a large and a small one — were by no means uncom- 

 mon on these hills and destroyed a good number of the combs yearly. 



It was getting dusk when we reached the foot of the hills near the 

 marsh, and right glad I was to get down with all specimens, especially 

 the eggs, safe. On the way I had picked up a couple more of the 

 Gypsophila, so that I had a nice little series in full breeding dress. 

 That they were breeding or about to breed I discovered by dissection 

 afterwards when skinning the birds. This little thrush has the habits 

 of a wren, mousing about the ground at the roots of bushes and in the 

 holes and crannies in the rock. It is a very silent bird, but once or 

 twice I noticed one perch itself on a bush and give out a low pretty 

 little song. A new moon was up in the west as I approached the belt 

 of jungle immediately round the village of Kyaik-myaw. I looked back 

 at the hill now throwing dark shadows and looming mysterious grim 

 and black in the half light, at the marsh at its feet on whose waters the 

 light still lingered, at the broad expanse of plain I had just traversed, 

 and over which the night jars were wheeling, and, remembering my 

 successful collecting, I felt happy. It was a day not to be forgotten, 

 and the memory of it is vrvidly revived as I write these lines. 



