242 ELEPHANT KILLED. Chap. XT. 



us to listen with pleasure to the singing of birds. It might 

 be owing to the greater cold, but the variety of notes in their 

 warblings seemed greater than with African birds in general. 

 A pretty little black bird, with white shoulders, probably a 

 weaver, but not seen elsewhere, sat on the topmost twigs of 

 the huge trees, pouring forth its melody as if glad, among 

 the deserted villages, once more to see the face of man. It 

 flew from tree to tree, and sang on the wing, though not 

 soaring like the lark. It bears frost, and to the bird-fancier 

 or Acclimatization Society might be an interesting addition to 

 their birds of song. It is not the honey-guide alone that is 

 attached to man. The whydah-bird and water wagtail are 

 held sacred by the natives of different parts, and consequently 

 come without fear close to human kind. Were our small birds 

 not so much persecuted by small boys, their attachment would 

 be more apparent, even in England. 



Seabenzo, the chief whom we found on the Tyotyo 

 rivulet, had accompanied us some distance over the undu- 

 lating highland plains ; and as he and our own men needed 

 meat, we killed an elephant. This, unless one really needs 

 the meat, or is eager for the ivory, can scarcely be looked 

 back to without regret. These noble beasts, capable of being 

 so useful to man in the domestic state, are, we fear, destined, 

 at no distant date, to disappear from the face of the earth. 

 Yet, in the excitement, all this and more was at once for- 

 gotten, and we joined in the assault as eagerly as those who 

 think only of the fat and savoury flesh. 



The writings of Harris and Gordon Cumming contain such 

 full and nauseating details of indiscriminate slaughter of the 

 wild animals, that one wonders to see almost every African 

 book since besmeared with feeble imitations of these great 

 hunters' tales. Some tell of escapes from situations which, 



