low-skinned Mongolian and the fair
European. Similarly do plants and animals vary in form: from the
straight pines and palms to the spreading, umbrageous oaks and
laurels; from upstanding lilies to parasitical orchids; from monstrous
spiky beetles to symmetrical dragon-flies; from ungainly rhinoceros
to graceful antelope; from short, sturdy Bhutias to tall, slim
Hindustanis. Likewise in character individuals are as different as the
strong, firm tree standing open-faced, four-square to all the world
and the creeping, insinuating parasite; as the intelligent, industrious
ant and the clumsy, plodding beetle; as the plucky boar and the timid
hare; as the rough forest tribesman and the cultured Bengali.

Lastly, there is variety among not only the different species of plants,
animals, insects, etc., but also the individuals of the same species.
We ourselves know the differences there are between one man and
another, and as far as that goes between ourselves on one day and
ourselves on the next. Each plant--and still more each animal--has
its own unique individuality. Every cavalry officer, every shepherd,
every dog-owner, every pigeon-fancier knows that each horse, sheep,
dog, pigeon has its own individuality and is distinctly different from
all others of its kind. And so does every gardener know that each
rose, each tulip, each pansy is different from all other roses, tulips,
and pansies. It is the same in the forest. Hardly two trees or plants of
the same species develop their young leaves, open their flowers,
ripen their seeds, and drop their leaves at the same time. Apart from
the size of the flower and leaf there are differences in colour, shape,
and marking. Each in appearance and in habit has an individuality of
its own.

Such is the variety in the abundant life of the forest that no two
individuals, no two blades of grass, or no two leaves are in every
detail precisely alike. And this is the second outstanding impression
we receive.

* * *

The abundance and variety of life are evident enough. Not so
evident but equally noteworthy is the intensity. In the still forest one
of the giant trees looks utterly impassive and immobile. It stands
there calm and unmoved. Not a leaf stirs. Yet the whole and every
minutest part of it is instinct with intensest life. It is made up of
countless microscopic cells in unceasing activity. Highly sensitive
and mobile cells form the root-tips and insinuate their way into
every cre