280 Capt. B. Alexander on the 
during my absence at the front my Portuguese colleetor, 
Josd Lopez^ did excellent work^ and obtained examples of 
many scarce and little-known species of birds. There were 
many difficulties to contend with. The rainy season had set 
in, the leaves dripped with moisture_, and water knee-deep 
blocked the forest-paths ; while a small native mud-hut with 
a leaky roof and a heavy damp atmosphere were sufficient 
to prevent my skins from drying properly. As the country 
became more settled, my collector worked his way gradually 
up to Kumassi, and, owing in a great measure to the con- 
sideration shown to him by officers and men alike of the Field 
Force, he was enabled to make important collections at each 
station on the lines of communication. In the forest, with 
its thick undergrowth and high trees, the 12-bore gun with 
No. 8 shot was the most useful, while the small "410" 
collecting-guns served us well in the less enclosed portions. 
From Cape Coast the forest extends for' about 200 miles 
inland. The ground rises by gentle gradients, till the 
Monse Hills, 1900 feet in height, are reached. Here the 
ascent is very steep, but afterwards there is a gradual fall to 
Kumassi, where the level is 690 feet. 
Sometimes the narrow footpath passes through deep streams 
and stagnant pools, at other times through utter darkness, 
where gigantic bamboos meet overhead and form a thick 
covered way, dank and steamy. On first entering the forest, 
a sense of relief from the burning sun is experienced, but 
this soon gives way to a feeling of depression. The eternal 
dull green of the foliage, unrelieved by any shafts of 
light, offers no change to the eye, and the huge columns of 
the india-rubber- and cotton-trees, once objects of wonder, 
soon cease to become vso from their very number. 
But the forest is not all like this j for there are spots 
where the sun can penetrate. In such localities, and in the 
vicinity of villages and spaces cleared by the natives for their 
farms, the bird-life is wonderful. Weaver-birds in gorgeous 
breeding-plumage — some studies in yellow, others in scarlet 
and black — make a buzzing chatter in the tall forest-trees. 
The '^ lu-lu " cry of a Golden Oriole (Oriolus nigripennis) 
