elephants stand on its bank, and, at a respectful distance behind these monarchs of the wilderness, is seen a herd of zebras, and another of waterbucks.  On getting our wind the royal beasts make off at once; but the zebras remain till the foremost man is within eighty yards of them, when old and young canter gracefully away.  The zebra has a great deal of curiosity; and this is often fatal to him, for he has the habit of stopping to look at the hunter.  In this particular he is the exact opposite of the diver antelope, which rushes off like the wind, and never for a moment stops to look behind, after having once seen or smelt danger.  The finest zebra of the herd is sometimes shot, our men having taken a sudden fancy to the flesh, which all declare to be the “king of good meat.”  On the plains of short grass between us and the river many antelopes of different species are calmly grazing, or reposing.  Wild pigs are common, and walk abroad during the day; but are so shy as seldom to allow a close approach.  On taking alarm they erect their slender tails in the air, and trot off swiftly in a straight line, keeping their bodies as steady as a locomotive on a railroad.  A mile beyond the pool three cow buffaloes with their calves come from the woods, and move out into the plain.  A troop of monkeys, on the edge of the forest, scamper back to its depths on hearing the loud song of Singeleka, and old surly fellows, catching sight of the human party, insult it with a loud and angry bark.  Early in the afternoon we may see buffaloes again, or other animals.  We camp on the dry higher ground, after, as has happened, driving off a solitary elephant.  The nights are warmer now, and possess nearly as much of interest and novelty as the days.  A new world awakes and comes forth, more numerous, if we may judge by the noise it makes, than that which is abroad by sunlight.  Lions and hyenas roar around us, and sometimes come disagreeably near, though they have never ventured into our midst.  Strange birds sing their agreeable songs, while others scream and call harshly as if in fear or anger.  Marvellous insect-sounds fall upon the ear; one, said by natives to proceed from a large beetle, resembles a succession of measured musical blows upon an anvil, while many others are perfectly indescribable.  A little lemur was once seen to leap about from branch to branch with the agility of a frog; it chirruped like a bird, and is not larger than a robin red-breast.  Reptiles, though numerous, seldom troubled us; only two men suffered from stings, and that very slightly, during the entire journey, the one supposed that he was bitten by a snake, and the other was stung by a scorpion.

Grass-burning has begun, and is producing the blue hazy atmosphere of the American Indian summer, which in Western Africa is called the “smokes.”  Miles of fire burn on the mountain-sides in the evenings, but go out during the night.  From their height they resemble a broad zigzag line of fire in the heavens.