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Excerpt from In an Elephant Corral, and Other Tales of West African Experiences
When I removed, in 1865, from Corisco Is land to Benita, fifty miles north on the mainland, among the many night-voices (more numerous than those of the Island) was one which, by its plaintiveness, struck me as most distressing. So much so, that for some time I thought that resi dence there would be unendurable. It came early in the evening, in only certain seasons of the year, and did not continue all night. On the night air the voice arose low and sad, and, swelling in a gradual crescendo for several seconds, as gradu ally sunk in a diminuendo of several seconds, like a long drawn-out sigh, an Ah! Of grief. The cry was probably at a mating-season.
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