Part 5

Several effective weapons are easily made from bamboo. By cutting off the end very obliquely just beyond a joint, a very sharp cutting point is produced suitable for a spear, dagger, or arrow-head, and capable of penetrating an animal’s body as readily as iron. Such spears are constantly used by many of the Malay tribes. In the eastern half of the Archipelago, where bows and arrows are used, these weapons are often formed entirely of bamboo. The harder and thicker sorts, split and formed with tapering ends, make a very strong and elastic bow, while a narrow strip of the outer skin of the same is used for the string, and the slender reed-like kinds make excellent arrows. One of the few agricultural tools used by the Papuans--a spud or hoe for planting or weeding--is made of a stout bamboo cut somewhat like the spear.

For various domestic purposes the uses of bamboo are endless. Ladders are rapidly made from two bamboo poles of the required length, by cutting small notches just above each ring, forming holes to receive the rungs or steps formed of a slenderer bamboo. For climbing lofty trees to get beeswax, a temporary ladder reaching to any height is ingeniously formed of bamboo. One of the hardest and thickest sorts is chosen, and from this a number of pegs about a foot long are made. These are sharpened at one end and then driven into the tree in a vertical line about three feet apart. A tall and slender bamboo is then placed upright on the ground and securely tied with rattan or other cords to the heads of these pegs, which thus, with the tree itself, form a ladder. A man mounts these steps and builds up the ladder as he goes, driving in fresh pegs and splicing on fresh bamboos till he reaches the lower branches of the tree, which is sometimes eighty or a hundred feet from the ground. As the weight of the climber is thrown on several of the pegs, which are bound together and supported by the upright bamboo, this ladder is much safer that it looks at first sight, and it is made with wonderful rapidity. When a path goes up a steep hill over smooth ground, bamboo steps are often laid down to prevent slipping while carrying heavy loads. These are made with uniform lengths of stout bamboo in which opposite notches are cut at each end just within a joint. These notches allow strong bamboo pegs to be driven through into the ground, thus keeping the steps securely in place. The masts and yards of native vessels are almost always formed of bamboo, as it combines lightness, strength, and elasticity in an unequalled degree. Two or three large bamboos also form the best outriggers to canoes on account of their great buoyancy. They also serve to form rafts; and in the city of Palembang in Sumatra there is a complete street of floating houses supported on rafts formed of huge bundles of bamboos. Bridges across streams or to carry footpaths along the face of precipices are constructed by the Dyaks of Borneo wholly of bamboos, and some of these are very ingeniously hung from overhanging trees by diagonal rods of bamboo, so as to form true suspension bridges. The flooring of Malay houses is almost always of bamboo, but is constructed in a variety of ways. Generally large bamboos are used, split lengthways twice and the pieces tied down with rattan. This forms a grated floor, slightly elastic, and very pleasant to the barefooted natives. A superior floor is sometimes formed of slabs, which are made from very stout bamboos cut into lengths of about three or four feet and split down one side. The joints are then deeply and closely notched all round with a sharp chopping-knife, so that the piece can be unrolled as it were and pressed flat, when it forms a hard board with a natural surface which, with a little wear, becomes beautifully smooth and polished. Blinds, screens, and mats, are formed of bamboos in a variety of ways,--sometimes of thin kinds crushed flat and plaited, but more frequently of narrow strips connected together with cords of bamboo-bark or rattan. Strips of bamboo supported on cross-pieces form an excellent bed, which from its elasticity supplies the purpose of a mattress as well, and only requires a mat laid over it to insure a comfortable night’s repose. Every kind of basket, too, is made of bamboo, from the coarsest heavy kinds to such as are fine and ornamental. In such countries as Lombock and Macassar, where the land is much cultivated and timber scarce, entire houses are built of bamboo,--posts, walls, floors, and roofs all being constructed of this one material; and perhaps in no other way can so elegant and well-finished a house be built so quickly and so cheaply. Almost every kind of furniture is also made of the same material, excellent bamboo chairs, sofas, and bedsteads being made in the Moluccas, which, for appearance combined with cheapness, are probably unsurpassed in the world. A chair costs sixpence, and a sofa two shillings.

Among simpler uses, bamboos are admirably adapted for water-vessels. Some of the lighter sorts are cut into lengths of about five feet, a small hole being knocked through the septa of the joints. This prevents the water from running out too quickly, and facilitates its being poured out in a regulated stream to the last drop. Three or four of these water-vessels are tied together and carried on the back, and they stand very conveniently in a corner of the hut. Water pipes and aqueducts are also readily made from bamboo tubes supported at intervals on two smaller pieces tied crosswise. In this way a stream of water is often conveyed from some distance to the middle of a village. Measures for rice or palm-wine, drinking-vessels, and water-dippers, are to be found almost ready-made in a joint of bamboo; and when fitted with a cap or lid they form tobacco or tinder-boxes. Perches for parrots with food and water-vessels are easily made out of a single piece of bamboo, while with a little more labour elegant bird-cages are constructed. In Timor a musical instrument is formed from a single joint of a large bamboo, by carefully raising seven strips of the hard skin to form strings, which remain attached at both ends and are elevated by small pegs wedged underneath, the strings being prevented from splitting off by a strongly-plaited ring of a similar material bound round each end. An opening cut on one side allows the bamboo to vibrate in musical notes when the harp-like strings are sharply pulled with the fingers. In Java strips of bamboo supported on stretched strings and struck with a small stick produce the higher notes in the “gamelung” or native band, which consists mainly of sets of gongs and metallic plates of various sizes. Almost all the common Chinese paper is made from the foliage and stems of some species of bamboo, while the young shoots, as they first spring out of the ground, are an excellent vegetable, quite equal to artichokes. Single joints of bamboo make excellent cooking-vessels while on a journey. Rice can be boiled in them to perfection, as well as fish and vegetables. They serve too for jars in which to preserve sugar, salt, fruit, molasses, and cooked provisions; and for the smoker, excellent pipes and hookahs can be formed in a few minutes out of properly chosen joints of bamboo.

These are only a sample of the endless purposes to which the bamboo is applied in the countries of which it is a native, its chief characteristic being that in a few minutes it can be put to uses which, if ordinary wood were used, would require hours or even days of labour. There is also a regularity and a finish about it which is found in hardly any other woody plant; and its smooth and symmetrically ringed surface gives an appearance of fitness and beauty to its varied applications. On the whole, we may perhaps consider it as the greatest boon which nature gives to the natives of the Eastern tropics.

Mangroves.--Among the forms of plants which are sure to attract attention in the tropics are the mangroves, which grow between tide-marks on coasts and estuaries. These are low trees with widely-spreading branches and a network of aerial roots a few feet above the ground; but their most remarkable peculiarity is, that their fruits germinate on the tree, sending out roots and branches before falling into the muddy soil--a completely formed plant. In some cases the root reaches the ground before the seed above falls off. These trees greatly aid the formation of new land, as the mass of aerial roots which arch out from the stem to a considerable distance collects mud and floating refuse, and so raises and consolidates the shore; while the young plants often dropping from the farthest extremity of the branches, rapidly extend the domain of vegetation to the farthest possible limits. The branches, too, send down slender roots like those of the banyan, and become independent trees. Thus a complete woody labyrinth is formed; and the network of tough roots and stems resists the action of the tides, and enables the mud brought down by great tropical rivers to be converted into solid land far more rapidly than it could be without this aid.

Sensitive-plants.--Among the more humble forms of vegetation that attract the traveller’s notice none are more interesting than the sensitive species of Mimosa. These are all natives of South America, but one species, Mimosa pudica, has spread to Africa and Asia, so that sensitive-plants now abound as wayside weeds in many parts both of the eastern and western tropics, sometimes completely carpeting the ground with their delicate foliage. Where a large surface of ground is thus covered the effect of walking over it is most peculiar. At each step the plants for some distance round suddenly droop, as if struck with paralysis, and a broad track of prostrate herbage, several feet wide, is distinctly marked out by the different colour of the closed leaflets. The explanation of this phenomenon, given by botanists, is not very satisfactory; while the purpose or use of the peculiarity is still more mysterious, seeing that out of about two hundred species belonging to this same genus Mimosa, only some three or four are sensitive, and in the whole vegetable kingdom there are no other plants which possess more than the rudiments of a similar property. It is true that, as they are all low-growing herbs or shrubs with delicate foliage, they might possibly be liable to destruction by herbivorous animals, and might escape by their singular power of suddenly collapsing before the jaws opened to devour them. The fact that one species has been naturalized as a weed over so wide an area in the tropics, seems to show that it possesses some advantage over the generality of tropical weeds. It is however curious that, as most of the species are somewhat prickly, so easy and common a mode of protection as the development of stronger spines should here have failed; and that its place should be supplied by so singular a power as that of simulating death, in a manner which suggests the possession of both sensation and voluntary motion.

See Nature, vol. xvi. p. 349, where the German botanist Pfeffer’s theory is given.

Comparative Scarcity of Flowers.--It is a very general opinion among inhabitants of our temperate climes, that amid the luxuriant vegetation of the tropics there must be a grand display of floral beauty; and this idea is supported by the number of large and showy flowers cultivated in our hot-houses. The fact is, however, that in proportion as the general vegetation becomes more luxuriant, flowers form a less and less prominent feature; and this rule applies not only to the tropics but to the temperate and frigid zones. It is amid the scanty vegetation of the higher mountains and towards the limits of perpetual snow, that the alpine flowers are most brilliant and conspicuous. Our own meadows and pastures and hill-sides produce more gay flowers than our woods and forests; and, in the tropics, it is in the parts where vegetation is less dense and luxuriant that flowers most abound. In the damp and uniform climate of the equatorial zone the mass of vegetation is greater and more varied than in any other part of the globe, but in the great virgin forests themselves flowers are rarely seen. After describing the forests of the Lower Amazon, Mr. Bates asks: “But where were the flowers? To our great disappointment we saw none, or only such as were insignificant in appearance. Orchids are rare in the dense forests of the lowlands, and I believe it is now tolerably well ascertained that the majority of the forest-trees in equatorial Brazil have small and inconspicuous flowers.” My friend Dr. Richard Spruce assured me that by far the greater part of the plants gathered by him in equatorial America had inconspicuous green or white flowers. My own observations in the Aru Islands for six months, and in Borneo for more than a year, while living almost wholly in the forests, are quite in accordance with this view. Conspicuous masses of showy flowers are so rare, that weeks and months may be passed without observing a single flowering plant worthy of special admiration. Occasionally some tree or shrub will be seen covered with magnificent yellow, or crimson, or purple flowers, but it is usually an oasis of colour in a desert of verdure, and therefore hardly affects the general aspect of the vegetation. The equatorial forest is too gloomy for flowers, or generally even for much foliage, except of ferns and other shade-loving plants; and were it not that the forests are broken up by rivers and streams, by mountain ranges, by precipitous rocks and by deep ravines, there would be far fewer flowers than there are. Some of the great forest-trees have showy blossoms, and when these are seen from an elevated point looking over an expanse of tree-tops the effect is very grand; but nothing is more erroneous than the statement sometimes made that tropical forest-trees generally have showy flowers, for it is doubtful whether the proportion is at all greater in tropical than in temperate zones. On such natural exposures as steep mountain sides, the banks of rivers, or ledges of precipices, and on the margins of such artificial openings as roads and forest clearings, whatever floral beauty is to be found in the more luxuriant parts of the tropics is exhibited. But even in such favourable situations it is not the abundance and beauty of the flowers but the luxuriance and the freshness of the foliage, and the grace and infinite variety of the forms of vegetation, that will most attract the attention and extort the admiration of the traveller. Occasionally indeed you will come upon shrubs gay with blossoms or trees festooned with flowering creepers; but, on the other hand, you may travel for a hundred miles and see nothing but the varied greens of the forest foliage and the deep gloom of its tangled recesses. In Mr. Belt’s Naturalist in Nicaragua, he thus describes the great virgin forests of that country which, being in a mountainous region and on the margin of the equatorial zone, are among the most favourable examples. “On each side of the road great trees towered up, carrying their crowns out of sight amongst a canopy of foliage, and with lianas hanging from nearly every bough, and passing from tree to tree, entangling the giants in a great network of coiling cables. Sometimes a tree appears covered with beautiful flowers which do not belong to it, but to one of the lianas that twines through its branches and sends down great rope-like stems to the ground. Climbing ferns and vanilla cling to the trunks, and a thousand epiphytes perch themselves on the branches. Amongst these are large arums that send down long aerial roots, tough and strong, and universally used instead of cordage by the natives. Amongst the undergrowth several small species of palms, varying in height from two to fifteen feet, are common; and now and then magnificent tree ferns sending off their feathery crowns twenty feet from the ground delight the sight by their graceful elegance. Great broad-leaved heliconias, leathery melastomæ, and succulent-stemmed, lop-sided leaved and flesh-coloured begonias are abundant, and typical of tropical American forests; but not less so are the cecropia trees, with their white stems and large palmated leaves standing up like great candelabra. Sometimes the ground is carpeted with large flowers, yellow, pink, or white, that have fallen from some invisible tree-top above; or the air is filled with a delicious perfume, the source of which one seeks around in vain, for the flowers that cause it are far overhead out of sight, lost in the great overshadowing crown of verdure.”

The Naturalist on the River Amazons, 2nd edit. p. 38.

Although, as has been shown elsewhere, it may be doubted whether light directly produces floral colour, there can be no doubt that it is essential to the growth of vegetation and to the full development of foliage and of flowers. In the forests all trees, and shrubs, and creepers struggle upwards to the light, there to expand their blossoms and ripen their fruit. Hence, perhaps, the abundance of climbers which make use of their more sturdy companions to reach this necessary of vegetable life. Yet even on the upper surface of the forest, fully exposed to the light and heat of the tropical sun, there is no special development of coloured flowers. When from some elevated point you can gaze down upon an unbroken expanse of woody vegetation, it often happens that not a single patch of bright colour can be discerned. At other times, and especially at the beginning of the dry season, you may behold scattered at wide intervals over the mottled-green surface a few masses of yellow, white, pink, or more rarely of blue colour, indicating the position of handsome flowering trees.

The well-established relation between coloured flowers and the need of insects to fertilize them, may perhaps be connected with the comparative scarcity of the former in the equatorial forests. The various forms of life are linked together in such mutual dependence that no one can inordinately increase without bringing about a corresponding increase or diminution of other forms. The insects which are best adapted to fertilize flowers cannot probably increase much beyond definite limits, because in doing so they would lead to a corresponding increase of insectivorous birds and other animals which would keep them down. The chief fertilizers--bees and butterflies--have enemies at every stage of their growth, from the egg to the perfect insect, and their numbers are, therefore, limited by causes quite independent of the supply of vegetable food. It may, therefore, be the case that the numbers of suitable insects are totally inadequate to the fertilization of the countless millions of forest-trees over such vast areas as the equatorial zone presents, and that, in consequence, a large proportion of the species have become adapted either for self-fertilization or for cross-fertilization by the agency of the wind. Were there not some such limitation as this, we should expect that the continued struggle for existence among the plants of the tropical forests would have led to the acquisition, by a much larger proportion of them, of so valuable a character as bright-coloured flowers, this being almost a necessary preliminary to a participation in the benefits which have been proved to arise from cross-fertilization by insect agency.

Concluding Remarks on Tropical Vegetation.--In concluding this general sketch of the aspect of tropical vegetation we will attempt briefly to summarize its main features. The primeval forests of the equatorial zone are grand and overwhelming by their vastness, and by the display of a force of development and vigour of growth rarely or never witnessed in temperate climates. Among their best distinguishing features are the variety of forms and species which everywhere meet and grow side by side, and the extent to which parasites, epiphytes, and creepers fill up every available station with peculiar modes of life. If the traveller notices a particular species and wishes to find more like it, he may often turn his eyes in vain in every direction. Trees of varied forms, dimensions, and colours are around him, but he rarely sees any one of them repeated. Time after time he goes towards a tree which looks like the one he seeks, but a closer examination proves it to be distinct. He may at length, perhaps, meet with a second specimen half a mile off, or may fail altogether, till on another occasion he stumbles on one by accident.

The absence of the gregarious or social habit, so general in the forests of extra-tropical countries, is probably dependent on the extreme equability and permanence of the climate. Atmospheric conditions are much more important to the growth of plants than any others. Their severest struggle for existence is against climate. As we approach towards regions of polar cold or desert aridity the variety of groups and species regularly diminishes; more and more are unable to sustain the extreme climatal conditions, till at last we find only a few specially organized forms which are able to maintain their existence. In the extreme north, pine or birch trees; in the desert, a few palms and prickly shrubs or aromatic herbs alone survive. In the equable equatorial zone there is no such struggle against climate. Every form of vegetation has become alike adapted to its genial heat and ample moisture, which has probably changed little even throughout geological periods; and the never-ceasing struggle for existence between the various species in the same area has resulted in a nice balance of organic forces, which gives the advantage, now to one, now to another, species, and prevents any one type of vegetation from monopolising territory to the exclusion of the rest. The same general causes have led to the filling up of every place in nature with some specially adapted form. Thus we find a forest of smaller trees adapted to grow in the shade of greater trees. Thus we find every tree supporting numerous other forms of vegetation, and some so crowded with epiphytes of various kinds that their forks and horizontal branches are veritable gardens. Creeping ferns and arums run up the smoothest trunks; an immense variety of climbers hang in tangled masses from the branches and mount over the highest tree-tops. Orchids, bromelias, arums, and ferns grow from every boss and crevice, and cover the fallen and decaying trunks with a graceful drapery. Even these parasites have their own parasitical growth, their leaves often supporting an abundance of minute creeping mosses and hepaticæ. But the uniformity of climate which has led to this rich luxuriance and endless variety of vegetation is also the cause of a monotony that in time becomes oppressive. To quote the words of Mr. Belt: “Unknown are the autumn tints, the bright browns and yellows of English woods; much less the crimsons, purples, and yellows of Canada, where the dying foliage rivals, nay, excels, the expiring dolphin in splendour. Unknown the cold sleep of winter; unknown the lovely awakening of vegetation at the first gentle touch of spring. A ceaseless round of ever-active life weaves the fairest scenery of the tropics into one monotonous whole, of which the component parts exhibit in detail untold variety and beauty.”

The Naturalist in Nicaragua, p. 58.

To the student of nature the vegetation of the tropics will ever be of surpassing interest, whether for the variety of forms and structures which it presents, for the boundless energy with which the life of plants is therein manifested, or for the help which it gives us in our search after the laws which have determined the production of such infinitely varied organisms. When, for the first time, the traveller wanders in these primeval forests, he can scarcely fail to experience sensations of awe, akin to those excited by the trackless ocean or the alpine snowfields. There is a vastness, a solemnity, a gloom, a sense of solitude and of human insignificance which for a time overwhelm him; and it is only when the novelty of these feelings have passed away that he is able to turn his attention to the separate constituents that combine to produce these emotions, and examine the varied and beautiful forms of life which, in inexhaustible profusion, are spread around him.

III.

ANIMAL LIFE IN THE TROPICAL FORESTS.

Difficulties of the Subject--General Aspect of the Animal life of Equatorial Forests--Diurnal Lepidoptera or Butterflies--Peculiar Habits of Tropical Butterflies--Ants, Wasps, and Bees--Ants--Special Relations between Ants and Vegetation--Wasps and Bees--Orthoptera and other Insects--Beetles--Wingless Insects--General Observations on Tropical Insects--Birds--Parrots--Pigeons--Picariæ--Cuckoos--Trogons, Barbets, Toucans and Hornbills--Passeres--Reptiles and Amphibia--Lizards--Snakes--Frogs and Toads--Mammalia--Monkeys--Bats--Summary of the Aspects of Animal life in the Tropics.

The attempt to give some account of the general aspects of animal life in the equatorial zone, presents far greater difficulties than in the case of plants. On the one hand, animals rarely play any important part in scenery, and their entire absence may pass quite unnoticed; while the abundance, variety, and character of the vegetation are among those essential features that attract every eye. On the other hand, so many of the more important and characteristic types of animal life are restricted to one only out of the three great divisions of equatorial land, that they can hardly be claimed as characteristically tropical; while the more extensive zoological groups which have a wide range in the tropics and do not equally abound in the temperate zones, are few in number, and often include such a diversity of forms, structures, and habits, as to render any typical characterisation of them impossible. We must then, in the first place, suppose that our traveller is on the look out for all signs of animal life; and that, possessing a general acquaintance as an out-door observer with the animals of our own country, he carefully notes those points in which the forests of the equatorial zone offer different phenomena. Here, as in the case of plants, we exclude all zoological science, classifications, and nomenclature, except in as far as it is necessary for a clear understanding of the several groups of animals referred to. We shall therefore follow no systematic order in our notes, except that which would naturally arise from the abundance or prominence of the objects themselves. We further suppose our traveller to have no prepossessions, and to have no favourite group, in the search after which he passes by other objects which, in view of their frequent occurrence in the landscape, are really more important.

General Aspect of the Animal Life of Equatorial Forests.--Perhaps the most general impression produced by a first acquaintance with the equatorial forests, is the comparative absence of animal life. Beast, bird, and insect alike require looking for, and it very often happens that we look for them in vain. On this subject Mr. Bates, describing one of his early excursions into the primeval forests of the Amazon Valley, remarks as follows:--“We were disappointed in not meeting with any of the larger animals of the forest. There was no tumultuous movement or sound of life. We did not see or hear monkeys, and no tapir or jaguar crossed our path. Birds also appeared to be exceedingly scarce.” Again--“I afterwards saw reason to modify my opinion, founded on first impressions, with regard to the amount and variety of animal life in this and other parts of the Amazonian forests. There is in fact a great variety of mammals, birds, and reptiles, but they are widely scattered and all excessively shy of man. The region is so extensive, and uniform in the forest clothing of its surface, that it is only at long intervals that animals are seen in abundance, where some particular spot is found which is more attractive than others. Brazil, moreover, is throughout poor in terrestrial mammals, and the species are of small size; they do not, therefore, form a conspicuous feature in the forests. The huntsman would be disappointed who expected to find here flocks of animals similar to the buffalo-herds of North America, or the swarms of antelopes and herds of ponderous pachyderms of Southern Africa. We often read in books of travel of the silence and gloom of the Brazilian forests. They are realities, and the impression deepens on a longer acquaintance. The few sounds of birds are of that pensive and mysterious character which intensifies the feeling of solitude rather than imparts a sense of life and cheerfulness. Sometimes in the midst of the stillness, a sudden yell or scream will startle one; this comes from some defenceless fruit-eating animal which is pounced upon by a tiger-cat or a boa-constrictor. Morning and evening the howling monkeys make a most fearful and harrowing noise, under which it is difficult to keep up one’s buoyancy of spirit. The feeling of inhospitable wildness which the forest is calculated to inspire, is increased tenfold under this fearful uproar. Often, even in the still midday hours, a sudden crash will be heard resounding afar through the wilderness, as some great bough or entire tree falls to the ground.” With a few verbal alterations these remarks will apply equally to the primeval forests of the Malay Archipelago; and it is probable that those of West Africa offer no important differences in this respect. There is, nevertheless, one form of life which is very rarely absent in the more luxuriant parts of the tropics, and which is more often so abundant as to form a decided feature in the scene. It is therefore the group which best characterises the equatorial zone, and should form the starting-point for our review. This group is that of the diurnal Lepidoptera or butterflies.

Diurnal Lepidoptera.--Wherever in the equatorial zone a considerable extent of the primeval forest remains, the observer can hardly fail to be struck by the abundance and the conspicuous beauty of the butterflies. Not only are they abundant in individuals, but their large size, their elegant forms, their rich and varied colours, and the number of distinct species almost everywhere to be met with are equally remarkable. In many localities near the northern or southern tropics they are perhaps equally abundant, but these spots are more or less exceptional; whereas within the equatorial zone, and with the limitations above stated, butterflies form one of the most constant and most conspicuous displays of animal life. They abound most in old and tolerably open roads and pathways through the forest, but they are also very plentiful in old settlements in which fruit-trees and shrubbery offer suitable haunts. In the vicinity of such old towns as Malacca and Amboyna in the East, and of Para and Rio de Janeiro in the West, they are especially abundant, and comprise some of the handsomest and most remarkable species in the whole group. Their aspect is altogether different from that presented by the butterflies of Europe and of most temperate countries. A considerable proportion of the species are very large, six to eight inches across the wings being not uncommon among the Papilionidæ and Morphidæ, while several species are even larger. This great expanse of wings is accompanied by a slow flight; and, as they usually keep near the ground and often rest, sometimes with closed and sometimes with expanded wings, these noble insects really look larger and are much more conspicuous objects than the majority of our native birds. The first sight of the great blue Morphos flapping slowly along in the forest roads near Para--of the large, white-and-black semi-transparent Ideas floating airily about in the woods near Malacca--and of the golden-green Ornithopteras sailing on bird-like wing over the flowering shrubs which adorn the beach of the Ké and Aru islands, can never be forgotten by any one with a feeling of admiration for the new and beautiful in nature. Next to the size, the infinitely varied and dazzling hues of these insects most attract the observer. Instead of the sober browns, the plain yellows, and the occasional patches of red or blue or orange that adorn our European species, we meet with the most intense metallic blues, the purest satiny greens, the most gorgeous crimsons, not in small spots but in large masses, relieved by a black border or background. In others we have contrasted bands of blue and orange, or of crimson and green, or of silky yellow relieved by velvety black. In not a few the wings are powdered over with scales and spangles of metallic green, deepening occasionally into blue or golden or deep red spots. Others again have spots and markings as of molten silver or gold, while several have changeable hues, like shot-silk or richly-coloured opal. The form of the wings, again, often attracts attention. Tailed hind-wings occur in almost all the families, but vary much in character. In some the tails are broadly spoon-shaped, in others long and pointed. Many have double or triple tails, and some of the smaller species have them immensely elongated and often elegantly curled. In some groups the wings are long and narrow, in others strongly falcate; and though many fly with immense rapidity, a large number flutter lazily along, as if they had no enemies to fear and therefore no occasion to hurry.

The number of species of butterflies inhabiting any one locality is very variable, and is, as a rule, far larger in America than in the Eastern hemisphere; but it everywhere very much surpasses the numbers in the temperate zone. A few months’ assiduous collecting in any of the Malay islands will produce from 150 to 250 species of butterflies, and thirty or forty species may be obtained any fine day in good localities. In the Amazon valley, however, much greater results may be achieved. A good day’s collecting will produce from forty to seventy species, while in one year at Para about 600 species were obtained. More than 700 species of butterflies actually inhabit the district immediately around the city of Para, and this, as far as we yet know, is the richest spot on the globe for diurnal lepidoptera. At Ega, during four years’ collecting; Mr. Bates obtained 550 species, and these on the whole surpassed those of Para in variety and beauty. Mr. Bates thus speaks of a favourite locality on the margin of the lake near Ega:--“The number and variety of gaily-tinted butterflies, sporting about in this grove on sunny days, were so great, that the bright moving flakes of colour gave quite a character to the physiognomy of the place. It was impossible to walk far without disturbing flocks of them from the damp sand at the edge of the water, where they congregated to imbibe the moisture. They were of almost all colours, sizes, and shapes; I noticed here altogether eighty species, belonging to twenty-two distinct genera. The most abundant, next to the very common sulphur-yellow and orange-coloured kinds, were about a dozen species of Eunica, which are of large size and conspicuous from their liveries of glossy dark blue and purple. A superbly adorned creature, the Callithea Markii, having wings of a thick texture, coloured sapphire-blue and orange, was only an occasional visitor. On certain days, when the weather was very calm, two small gilded species (Symmachia Trochilus and Colubris) literally swarmed on the sands, their glittering wings lying wide open on the flat surface.”

The Naturalist on the Amazons, 2nd edit. p. 331.

When we consider that only sixty-four species of butterflies have been found in Britain and about 150 in Germany, many of which are very rare and local, so that these numbers are the result of the work of hundreds of collectors for a long series of years, we see at once the immense wealth of the equatorial zone in this form of life.

Peculiar Habits of Tropical Butterflies.--The habits of the butterflies of the tropics offer many curious points rarely or never observed among those of the temperate zone. The majority, as with us, are truly diurnal, but there are some Eastern Morphidæ and the entire American family Brassolidæ, which are crepuscular, coming out after sunset and flitting about the roads till it is nearly dark. Others, though flying in the daytime, are only found in the gloomiest recesses of the forest, where a constant twilight may be said to prevail. The majority of the species fly at a moderate height (from five to ten feet above the ground) while a few usually keep higher up and are difficult to capture; but a large number, especially the Satyridæ, many Erycinidæ, and some few Nymphalidæ, keep always close to the ground, and usually settle on or among the lowest herbage. As regards the mode of flight, the extensive and almost exclusively tropical families of Heliconidæ and Danaidæ, fly very slowly, with a gentle undulating or floating motion which is almost peculiar to them. Many of the strong-bodied Nymphalidæ and Hesperidæ, on the other hand, have an excessively rapid flight, darting by so swiftly that the eye cannot follow them, and in some cases producing a deep sound louder than that of the humming-birds.

The places they frequent, and their mode of resting, are various and often remarkable. A considerable number frequent damp open places, especially river sides and the margins of pools, assembling together in flocks of hundreds of individuals; but these are almost entirely composed of males, the females remaining in the forests where, towards the afternoon, their partners join them. The majority of butterflies settle upon foliage and on flowers, holding their wings erect and folded together, though early in the morning, or when newly emerged from the chrysalis, they often expand them to the sun. Many, however, have special stations and attitudes. Some settle always on tree-trunks, usually with the wings erect, but the Ageronias expand them and always rest with the head downwards. Many Nymphalidæ prefer resting on the top of a stick; others choose bushes with dead leaves; others settle on rocks or sand or in dry forest paths. Pieces of decaying animal or vegetable matter are very attractive to certain species, and if disturbed they will sometimes return to the same spot day after day. Some Hesperidæ, as well as species of the genera Cyrestis and Symmachia, and some others, rest on the ground with their wings fully expanded and pressed closely to the surface, as if exhibiting themselves to the greatest advantage. The beautiful little Erycinidæ of South America vary remarkably in their mode of resting. The majority always rest on the under surface of leaves with their wings expanded, so that when they settle they suddenly disappear from sight. Some, however, as the elegant gold-spotted Helicopis cupido, rest beneath leaves with closed wings. A few, as the genera Charis and Themone, for example, sit on the upper side of leaves with their wings expanded; while the gorgeously-coloured Erycinas rest with wings erect and exposed as in the majority of butterflies. The Hesperidæ vary in a somewhat similar manner. All rest on the upper side of leaves or on the ground, but some close their wings, others expand them, and a third group keep the upper pair of wings raised while the hind wings are expanded, a habit found in some of our European species. Many of the Lycænidæ, especially the Theclas, have the curious habit, while sitting with their wings erect, of moving the lower pair over each other in opposite directions, giving them the strange appearance of excentrically revolving discs.

The great majority of butterflies disappear at night, resting concealed amid foliage, or on sticks or trunks, or in such places as harmonise with their colours and markings; but the gaily-coloured Heliconidæ and Danaidæ seek no such concealment, but rest at night hanging at the ends of slender twigs or upon fully exposed leaves. Being uneatable they have no enemies and need no concealment. Day-flying moths of brilliant or conspicuous colours are also comparatively abundant in the tropical forests. Most magnificent of all are the Uranias, whose long-tailed green-and-gold powdered wings resemble those of true swallow-tailed butterflies. Many Agaristidæ of the East are hardly inferior in splendour, while hosts of beautiful clear-wings and Ægeriidæ add greatly to the insect beauty of the equatorial zone.

The wonderful examples afforded by tropical butterflies of the phenomena of sexual and local variation, of protective modifications, and of mimicry, have been fully discussed elsewhere. For the study of the laws of variation in all its forms, these beautiful creatures are unsurpassed by any class of animals; both on account of their great abundance, and the assiduity with which they have been collected and studied. Perhaps no group exhibits the distinctions of species and genera with such precision and distinctness, due, as Mr. Bates has well observed, to the fact that all the superficial signs of change in the organization are exaggerated, by their affecting the size, shape, and colour, of the wings, and the distribution of the ribs or veins which form their framework. The minute scales or feathers with which the wings are clothed are coloured in regular patterns, which vary in accordance with the slightest change in the conditions to which the species are exposed. These scales are sometimes absent in spots or patches, and sometimes over the greater part of the wings, which then become transparent, relieved only by the dark veins and by delicate shades or small spots of vivid colour, producing a special form of delicate beauty characteristic of many South American butterflies. The following remark by Mr. Bates will fitly conclude our sketch of these lovely insects:--“It may be said, therefore, that on these expanded membranes Nature writes, as on a tablet, the story of the modifications of species, so truly do all the changes of the organization register themselves thereon. And as the laws of Nature must be the same for all beings, the conclusions furnished by this group of insects must be applicable to the whole organic world; therefore the study of butterflies--creatures selected as the types of airiness and frivolity--instead of being despised, will some day be valued as one of the most important branches of biological science.”