On coming to the part where the elephant was slain, we passed through grass so tall that it reminded me of that in the valley of Cassange.  Insects are very numerous after the rains commence.  While waiting by the elephant, I observed a great number of insects, like grains of fine sand, moving on my boxes.  On examination with a glass, four species were apparent; one of green and gold preening its wings, which glanced in the sun with metallic lustre; another clear as crystal; a third of the color of vermilion; and a fourth black.  These are probably some of those which consume the seeds of every plant that grows.  Almost every kind has its own peculiar insect, and when the rains are over very few seeds remain untouched.  The rankest poisons, as the Kongwhane and Euphorbia, are soon devoured; the former has a scarlet insect; and even the fiery bird’s-eye pepper, which will keep off many others from their own seeds, is itself devoured by a maggot.  I observed here, what I had often seen before, that certain districts abound in centipedes.  Here they have light reddish bodies and blue legs; great myriapedes are seen crawling every where.  Although they do no harm, they excite in man a feeling of loathing.  Perhaps our appearance produces a similar feeling in the elephant and other large animals.  Where they have been much disturbed, they certainly look upon us with great distrust, as the horrid biped that ruins their peace.  In the quietest parts of the forest there is heard a faint but distinct hum, which tells of insect joy.  One may see many whisking about in the clear sunshine in patches among the green glancing leaves; but there are invisible myriads working with never-tiring mandibles on leaves, and stalks, and beneath the soil.  They are all brimful of enjoyment.  Indeed, the universality of organic life may be called a mantle of happy existence encircling the world, and imparts the idea of its being caused by the consciousness of our benignant Father’s smile on all the works of His hands.

The birds of the tropics have been described as generally wanting in power of song.  I was decidedly of opinion that this was not applicable to many parts in Londa, though birds there are remarkably scarce.  Here the chorus, or body of song, was not much smaller in volume than it is in England.  It was not so harmonious, and sounded always as if the birds were singing in a foreign tongue.  Some resemble the lark, and, indeed, there are several of that family; two have notes not unlike those of the thrush.  One brought the chaffinch to my mind, and another the robin; but their songs are intermixed with several curious abrupt notes unlike any thing English.  One utters deliberately “peek, pak, pok”; another has a single note like a stroke on a violin-string.  The mokwa reza gives forth a screaming set of notes like our blackbird when disturbed, then concludes with what the natives say is “pula, pula” (rain, rain), but more like “weep, weep, weep”.