
 
        
         
		Ethiopian  fauna.  Subtropical  Durban  could  thus  
 become  a  tropical  training-ground  for  the  exploring  
 naturalist, who would he able  to  develop that simplicity  
 in requirements  and acquire that amplitude  and method  
 in observation which are so often more laboriously learned  
 at the  cost of missed opportunities when he reaches  the  
 interior.  There is  a  lore  in  collecting  natural  objects  
 which  can  only  be  acquired  by  practice,  for  until  the  
 habits  and  haunts  of  animals  are  understood  they will  
 not be  searched for  in  the  right  spots,  and  necessarily  
 will not therefore be found.  A traveller often passes over  
 a rich and unexplored zoological  region which  he  only  
 samples through having had no preparatory  training  as  
 might for Southern Africa be  obtained at Durban.  But,  
 of  far  more  importance,  the  power  of  observation  is  
 quickened by an  early appreciation  of what  and how  to  
 observe,  so  that  the  capture  of  an  animal  will  soon  
 become  of  less  importance  than  a  knowledge  of  its  
 relation to its environment.  I could not help contrasting  
 the  different  mental -conceptions  which  dominated  me  
 when  collecting  in  the  Malay  Peninsula  twenty-two  
 years  previously  and  those  which  now  occupied  my  
 mind in  a  similar  quest  at  Durban.  Then  almost  the  
 sole  aim  was  the  discovery  of  new  species;  now  the  
 constant wish was to make  some small discovery to  add  
 to  the  ever-increasing knowledge of how animals derived  
 their present  shape  and  coloration  in  the  struggle  for  
 existence.  These pleasant Durban glades, where insect-  
 life  so  freely  exhibited itself, were  now  no  longer  only  
 emporiums  to  supply museum  drawers with  specimens,  
 but were full of nature’s records  of the past—like hieroglyphic  
 writings, but  unlike  them, most  at  present  we  
 cannot  read.  It  was  now  the  cult  of  Darwin  that  
 seemed  wafted  in  the  air,  and  I   felt  like  an  eclectic  
 Pagan  finding  a  shrine  to  philosophy  amidst  these  
 African groves. 
 I t  was  on  a  Christmas  day  that  Vasco  da  Gama  
 reached  and  named Natal,  at the height of summer and  
 amidst  the  glories  of  a  vegetation  as  I  now  saw  it.  
 Although four  hundred  years  have  elapsed  since  that 
 discovery, Natal has  only been colonized in quite recent  
 times,  and its  flora,  save  by introduced  plants, has  had  
 insufficient  time  to  be  radically altered.  The  gardens  
 were  gay  at  the  time  of  my visit  with the  flowers  of  
 several varieties  of Hibiscus,  aloes  exhibited  their huge  
 flowering-spikes,  and lovely creepers in full bloom were  
 quite  common.  The  fruit-market  rejoiced  with  pineapples, 
  mangoes, bananas,  and other vegetable products  
 of a  subtropical nature, which add  a  charm  to Durban,  
 and,  apart from its  summer heat, I would more willingly  
 live  and  die  at,  that  port  than  in  any  other  part  of  
 Southern Africa. 
 The beach in front of the hotel at which I stayed had,  
 however,  other  characteristics  beside  its  beauty.  One  
 suicide and two  dead bodies washed up  during  my stay  
 of  five  days  was  rather  a  ghastly,  though,  I  believe,  
 unusual spectacle.  One body was  described  to  me  by  
 a  “ morgue ”  enthusiast  as  particularly  curious  from  
 the  fact  that  only  the  face  and  boots  were  perfect,  
 and  he  seemed  somewhat  chagrined  that  I  did  not  
 allow him  to  guide  me  to  this  gruesome  sight  before  
 lunch, for which he  said  “ there was just time.” 
 I  left  Durban  by the  morning  train  for  the  north,  
 intending  to  visit  the  bark  farms  of  the  interior.  
 Perhaps  few  railways  exhibit  more  singular  freaks  of  
 construction and  engineering  skill than this Natal  line.  
 When  mountains  cannot  be  avoided,  the  rails  run  
 round  them  in  serpentine  arrangement,  and  to  avoid  
 these  elevations, when  possible,  the  line  takes  such  a  
 devious  course  as to  frequently give the impression  that  
 one is returning to the spot only just previously left, while  
 the  curves  are  so  sudden  that  you  can  often  see  both  
 ends  of  the  train  at  the  same  time.  A  story is  told  
 of an engine-driver who pulled up  in  obedience  to  the  
 danger-light belonging to the rear  guard’s  break  of  his  
 own train, which,  in the  intricacies  of  the  curves, had  
 become placed in front of him. 
 Owing  to  the  steep  gradients,  a  single  line  of  
 rails,  and  the  number  of  small  stations,  progress  is  
 very  slow,  and  my  retnrn  journey  did  not  average