that's good and great, but he makes a shocking fool of himself at
times, particularly in West Africa.

I should enjoy holding what one of my justly irritated expurgators
used to call one of my little thanksgiving services here, but I will
not; for, after all, it would be impossible for me to satisfactorily
thank those people who, since my publication of this book, have
given me help and information on the subject of West Africa. Chief
amongst them have been Mr. A. L. Jones, Sir. R. B. N. Walker, Mr.
Irvine, and Mr. John Holt. I have not added to this book any
information I have received since I wrote it, as it does not seem to
me fair to do so. My only regret regarding it is that I have not
dwelt sufficiently on the charm of West Africa; it is so difficult
to explain such things; but I am sure there are amongst my readers
people who know by experience the charm some countries exercise over
men--countries very different from each other and from West Africa.
The charm of West Africa is a painful one: it gives you pleasure
when you are out there, but when you are back here it gives you pain
by calling you. It sends up before your eyes a vision of a wall of
dancing white, rainbow-gemmed surf playing on a shore of yellow sand
before an audience of stately coco palms; or of a great mangrove-
watered bronze river; or of a vast aisle in some forest cathedral:
and you hear, nearer to you than the voices of the people round,
nearer than the roar of the city traffic, the sound of the surf that
is breaking on the shore down there, and the sound of the wind
talking on the hard palm leaves and the thump of the natives' tom-
toms; or the cry of the parrots passing over the mangrove swamps in
the evening time; or the sweet, long, mellow whistle of the plantain
warblers calling up the dawn; and everything that is round you grows
poor and thin in the face of the vision, and you want to go back to