No traveler dares venture into the jungle without a supply of mosquitonetting, and we had a quantity of this, besides some two hundred yards of cheese-cloth for making mosquito-proof houses and for wrapping up specimens.

As the folding-beds we had brought were small and rather low, I had a bed made of native wood, with a strong springy mattress, which for comfort, coolness, and cleanliness has no equal. This mattress consisted of one sheet of bark from a small tree called iwonja. The bark is like web-cloth, and is vermin-proof, because one has only to throw water over the bed and wash it off to keep it perfectly clean. Since it was less trouble to have new beds made than carry them about with us when we traveled, wherever I went this simple piece of furniture was constructed.

While we had brought with us a full equipment of cooking vessels and the best agate tableware, our stove was merely a folding-grating, such as one uses when camping. It held three pots at a time, and had legs that unfolded at any desired height and could be stuck into the sand about the fire. In order to make culinary operations less arduous for the cook, I built a pen out of poles and filled it with sand to a height of two feet, and this made an excellent support for our primitive stove. Bread-baking, however, was a more serious consideration, and this was usually accomplished in a large iron pot with coals on the lid. But sometimes we made an oven by digging a hole in the ground, building a fire in it, and closing the opening with a sheet of iron. After raking out the fire, enough heat remained in the hole to bake excellent bread. Not many cooks in Africa know how to bake bread, but if they master that art, they can make it under any conditions. Indeed, the post of chef is generally assumed at will. A cook's mate, after a few months at building fires and washing pots, will apply to some other master for the position of cook, and state that he has been cooking for Mr. So-and-so for such a length of time. Since cooks, as a rule, sit down and make their mates do the work, these boys gain the experience and are really good cooks. But each, as soon as he wins a chef's position, rests on

his laurels and makes his mate do the work.

We had two cooks most of the time, since my assistant, on his excursions, required a cook and house-boy, as well as a canoe, crew, hunters, and guides. Incidentally, it may be interesting to learn that as a rule no house-boy is allowed to go into any other room than that of his master. If there are two house-boys to wait on the table, one of them is head boy and responsible for everything in the pantry.

The

All Africans are naturally slovenly and rather uncleanly in their habits, and must be watched. I never allowed the boys to take our dishes to the kitchen, but provided a place where they might be washed under my observation. boys were also obliged to eat in their own kitchen, using utensils provided for their sole use. They might not even boil water in my tea-kettle, since it is not possible to allow an African the slightest privilege. Such an indulgence means that they would take an ell despite everything. Therefore, whatever was given the boy from my table was deposited in one of his own dishes in my presence, and in the matter of table perquisites it followed that whatever the house-boy received he divided with the cook, but whatever was given to the cook he kept for himself.

"

Generally I had for breakfast either some fresh fried meat or some cold roast meat, very often some eggs. When I say "some eggs,' I do not mean, like my assistant, when he wrote to me for "some money" and "some flour" and "some soap." I sent him a copper sou, and I wrote on a piece of paper and put around it, "This is some money." I took a little pinch of flour and wrapped it in a small piece of paper and wrote, "This is some flour." I took a little bit of soap and wrapped a paper around it and wrote: "This is some soap. When you write to me for some of a thing again, don't say 'some soap' or 'some money.' I wish you would state definitely the amount or quantity you want."

We had bread for breakfast. Sometimes we would have batter-cakes; I always taught my cook to make battercakes. I had maple syrup with me, and

one can get native honey in the bush. The native honey is a bad proposition, however, full of bees and other substances, and I do not like it. Besides syrup, I had marmalade and jam and plenty of native coffee. The missions all raise coffee on their plantations. One can get any quantity of good coffee for about twenty cents a pound. Africans raise a good deal of cacao. Americans call it "cocoa." Everywhere on earth except in the United States and England the bean is called "cacao," and the word "cocoa" means an entirely different thing. In the Congo, cacao grows in a great pod. It is cultivated. Coffee grows wild. The Catholic Mission at

Esyria gathers a great deal of wild coffee. I bought half of my coffee from them. The plant grows mostly on dry land; some of it grew in my yard. I could have gone out and gathered coffee myself, but it was cheaper to buy it. The missions have numbers of boys to handle the product, pick it out with their fingers, and sell it. All that great forest everywhere around me abounded in wild coffee.

I had moved to Ntyonga because it was a good hunting district. There were plenty of gorillas along the valley of the Rambo Kato River, and it was possible to navigate the streams comfortably in my large six-oared canoe,

and in full view of all of us. I have seen as many as five groups in a day, and one of these consisted of a whole family of eleven members.

Often young chimpanzees would come out of the forest on the opposite side of the plain and play in the grass exactly like human children, romping and scuffling with one another, having a fine time, while their parents would watch over and guard them at their play.

On one occasion two old chimpanzees evidently decided to investigate my habitation more closely. They came down to the edge of the bush on the side of the plain where my house stood. I slipped out cautiously and got behind the snag of an old tree on the edge of the plain, where I could watch them coming down in full view. They kept approaching a little closer, and when I would stick my head out to peep at them they would stop. The old man

the forest after her. I believe that what alarmed them was a helmet I wore. It was big and clumsy, and was something too new in their experience to be boldly investigated.

From time to time, while sitting indoors, I have seen antelopes come up to within fifty yards of the house. Countless times I have watched them grazing on the plains within three or four hundred yards of me. At night they grew bolder and would enter the yard and approach within ten feet of the door, looking for food. My house stood on the site of an old village, and mangotrees were abundant in the inclosure. The antelopes had been in the habit of coming there to feast on mangos, and almost any morning their tracks might be seen bearing testimony to their nocturnal visits.

During my residence at Ntyonga it was a common thing to see buffaloes and

bush-pigs in herds on the grassy plain. On one occasion I saw a great herd of more than a hundred bush-pigs.

We had hunted in the neighborhood of Ntyonga for a few weeks when one morning Donga-Njego, whom I had known for twenty-five years as one of the greatest elephant and gorilla hunters in central Africa, said to me:

"Master, just now I been look Njina for my eye. [Njina is African for ape.] He been close for my town. He sit on

a stick [tree] and call me for come and make him die. So now I go take small master and go for my town fur get Njina."

The town referred to by Donga-Njego -whose name means "the leopard"was a Pangwé village called Mperri on the Rembo-Nkomi River, among the cannibals.

This country of the Pangwés lay about one hundred miles from our base at Ntyonga. I knew that both sides of the river abounded with gorillas, chimpanzees, and monkeys, and these were the special animals that we were after. Besides, the village of Mperri was the home of the hunter Donga-Njego, and my assistant had no fear of being served up at a Pangwé feast while under such protection.

In this region the cannibals had their plantations of bananas, manioc, and sweet potatoes, mere spots in the bush, never more than an acre, where the ground looked rich. Natives use such plantations for a year or so and then abandon them. We found these little abandoned plantations all through the bush. Sometimes natives build villages near the spots for the sake of securing land already cleared. To me this habit seemed like finding a button and buying a suit of clothes on which to sew it.

In Africa all white men use big canoes, and for the expedition I fitted up our canoe with a quantity of food, of which it had capacity for a ton and a half. Fourteen men accompanied my assistant, among whom was the helper of DongaNjego, a great "shoot-man" also, and who, my great hunter declared, would never desert him.

After securing a number of specimens around Mperri, Donga-Njego took the party up a little river called Olendi to a

small village of the same name, which was three or four hours' journey from their base. In the neighborhood of Olendi a great number of gorillas and chimpanzees were to be found, and it was during his sojourn here that the taxidermist secured the remarkable specimen of the ape tribe that has occasioned much interest in America. I believe

this animal to be an entirely new and unknown type, and, to my mind, it more closely resembles the human type than any ape I have ever seen, and appears to be of a higher order than any with which I have heretofore come in contact.

Nature seems to have established an equilibrium of wild life in the African bush. There is never an excess of animals; never, under normal conditions, a preponderance of one species over another. This fact led me to believe that such a balance depended largely upon the methods by which wild animals sustain themselves: they eat only when they are hungry and only what they need at the moment, browsing leisurely and frequently in their feeding-grounds. For this reason wild animals do not become ill from overeating, as is frequently the case among domestic quadrupeds, which being fed at intervals, often become ravenous from long fasting, and then eat far more than is good for them. Then, too, it often occurs that domestic animals crowd and scuffle at their meals instead of enjoying in calmness of spirit the individual service of bountiful nature.

In this last journey of mine into Africa I noticed that, although wild animals were becoming more restricted in their area, they were increasing in numbers. This is partly due to the fact that, as far as possible, game in Africa is now protected, and natives are not allowed the free use of firearms, which prevents needless slaughter of both beasts and men.

Then, too, a man must pay one thousand francs for a hunting and five thousand francs for a sporting license, and such amounts are rarely possible among natives of the bush.

Another reason why wild animals are healthy in the free state and sicken easily in captivity lies in the fact that artificial heat and artificial cold are alike deadly to the health of animals, including

man. It is impossible for us to create an artificial humidity which perfectly accords with the degrees of temperature produced by other than natural means.

Man has to a degree learned to adopt himself to abnormal conditions but wild life cannot be transplanted without danger to itself, and the pets which made their home with me were allowed to live as nearly as possible in the way they existed in the jungle.

Every naturalist desires to secure his specimens in as perfect a condition as possible, and we had six hundred traps for snaring small animals and birds, besides owning, in addition to nine guns, a specially constructed revolver for killing very small birds. The cartridge of this weapon was filled with the smallest shot made, and was intended to be fired at short range. Of the three thousand specimens that I have brought back with me a number were killed by these tiny shot and by trapping.

Nearly all the antelopes and some of the monkeys are decoyed by natives, who imitate the call of those animals. I noticed a strange occurrence with respect to the decoy for antelopes: in calling the animal for any length of time the cry was invariably answered by three or four or more snakes, which would glide directly up to the hunter. These snakes were not of the mammoth varieties, and no one has ever been able to explain what they came for.

Our collection of antelopes includes seven species. One of them is a tiny beauty that is no larger than a toy, and so appealing and exquisite that it seemed a crime to kill it. I believe this to be a new species, as no specimen of it can be found in any American museum, and no report of one exists in any foreign collection, nor have any travelers ever heard of one.

The little creature is a light mousecolor, and the under side of its body is creamy white, as is its throat. A margin of white also extends around a peculiar flat tail of gray. The animal has beautiful big brown eyes and slender legs no larger than a lead-pencil. Its horns are only an inch long, and are as sharp as tacks, while its dainty hoofs are no larger than my thumb-nail.

Not only did we bring to the Smith

sonian the smallest antelope ever heard of, but also two new species of the smallest known variety of the primate order -the galago, which is not a real monkey, but a sort of connecting link between the lemur and the monkey. The galago has only recently been found in central Africa, and has hitherto been confined to the Island of Madagascar. It may, indeed, be called "the ghost of the jungle," for no more appropriate name could be found for the tiny simian. Its habits are nocturnal, as those of ghosts are said to be, and it has great staring eyes, like sparks in the dark, that gleam out of its little wizen face. The animal's color accentuates its ghostly appearance, for it is marked with white and patches of yellowish-white hair about a face and body of tawny color. This peculiar Propithecus has long, slender, ghostly fingers, which are not as big around as matches. One must be stout of heart to meet those ghostly fingers and confront the great eyes of this small creature on a dark night in the jungle and not experience fear.

Less interesting to the museum visitor, perhaps, than the galago, but even more remarkable as being the only creature of its sort known to naturalists, is another specimen I secured, a peculiar animal that no explorer has ever mentioned, and which African natives call "anima." The creature appears to be something on the order of the civet, but very much larger and more dog-like. I have heard it called "wild-dog," but it is not a true canine, and I have not found any white man in Africa who can identify it. The only man I ever met who had seen one alive was a missionary priest in Esyria.

We also obtained some pygmy squirrels, not bigger than a common mouse, and of a pretty grayish-brown color. They were of the general type and appearance of the common squirrel, with a bushy tail, but their teeth were no bigger than pin-points. They were the daintiest little animals I ever beheld, and I secured one for a pet and kept it in a cage. My tiny captive soon answered to the name of Mab and was often allowed to play about the house. Together with two little monkeys that lived with me at the time, Dinkie and