[Footnote 2: See ante, p. 24.]

[Footnote 3: The apple-tree in the Peradenia Gardens seems not only to have become an evergreen but to have changed its character in another particular; for it is found to send out numerous runners under ground, which continually rise into small stems and form a growth of shrub-like plants around the parent tree.]

[Footnote 4: An equally successful experiment, to give the vine an artificial winter by baring the roots, is recorded by Mr. BALLARD, of Bombay, in the Transactions of the Agric. and Hortic. Society of India, under date 24th May,1824. Calcutta. 1850. Vol. i. p. 96.]

The tea plant has been raised with complete success in the hills on the estate of the Messrs. Worms, at Rothschild, in Pusilawa[1]; but the want of any skilful manipulators to collect and prepare the leaves, renders it hopeless to attempt any experiment on a large scale, until assistance can be secured from China, to conduct the preparation.

[Footnote 1: The cultivation of tea was attempted by the Dutch, but without success.]

Still ascending, at an elevation of 6500 feet, as we approach the mountain plateau of Neuera-ellia, the dimensions of the trees again diminish, the stems and branches are covered with orchideae and mosses, and around them spring up herbaceous plants and balsams, with here and there broad expanses covered with Acanthaceae, whose seeds are the favourite food of the jungle fowl, which are always in perfection during the ripening of the Nilloo.[1] It is in these regions that the tree-ferns (Alsophila gigantea) rise from the damp hollows, and carry their gracefully plumed heads sometimes to the height of twenty feet.

[Footnote 1: There are said to be fourteen species of the Nilloo (Strobilanthes) in Ceylon. They form a complete under-growth in the forest five or six feet in height, and sometimes extending for miles. When in bloom, their red and blue flowers are a singularly beautiful feature in the landscape, and are eagerly searched by the honey bees. Some species are said to flower only once in five, seven, or nine years; and after ripening their seed they die. This is one reason assigned for the sudden appearance of the rats, which have been elsewhere alluded to (vol. i. p. 149, ii. p. 234) as invading the coffee estates, when deprived of their ordinary food by the decay of the nilloo. It has been observed that the jungle fowl, after feeding on the nilloo, have their eyes so affected by it, as to be partially blinded, and permit themselves to be taken by the hand. Are the seeds of this plant narcotic like some of the Solanaceaae? or do they cause dilatation of the pupil, like those of the Atropa Belladonna?]

At length in the loftiest range of the hills the Rhododendrons are discovered; no longer delicate bushes, as in Europe, but timber trees of considerable height, and corresponding dimensions, and every branch covered with a blaze of crimson flowers. In these forests are also to be met with some species of Michelia, the Indian representatives of the Magnolias of North America, several arboreous myrtaceae and ternstromiaceae, the most common of which is the camelia-like Gordonia Ceylanica.[1] These and Vaccinia, Gaultheria, Symploci, Goughia, and Gomphandra, establish the affinity between the vegetation of this region and that of the Malabar ranges, the Khasia and Lower Himalaya.[2]

[Footnote 1: Dr. Gardner.]

[Footnote 2: Introduction to the Flora Indica of Dr. HOOKER and Dr. THOMSON, p. 120. London, 1855.]

Generally speaking, the timber on the high mountains is of little value for oeconomic purposes. Though of considerable dimensions, it is too unsubstantial to be serviceable for building or domestic uses; and perhaps, it may be regarded as an evidence of its perishable nature, that dead timber is rarely to be seen in any quantity encumbering the ground, in the heart of the deepest forests. It seems to go to dust almost immediately after its fall, and although the process of destruction is infinitely accelerated by the ravages of insects, especially the white ants (termites) and beetles, which instantly seize on every fallen branch: still, one would expect that the harder woods would, more or less, resist their attacks till natural decomposition should have facilitated their operations and would thus exhibit more leisurely the progress of decay. But here decay is comparatively instantaneous, and it is seldom that fallen timber is to be found, except in the last stage of conversion into dust.

Some of the trees in the higher ranges are remarkable for the prodigious height to which they struggle upwards from the dense jungle towards the air and light; and one of the most curious of nature's devices, is the singular expedient by which some families of these very tall and top-heavy trees throw out buttresses like walls of wood, to support themselves from beneath. Five or six of these buttresses project like rays from all sides of the trunk: they are from six to twelve inches thick, and advance from five to fifteen feet outward; and as they ascend, gradually sink into the hole and disappear at the height of from ten to twenty feet from the ground. By the firm resistance which they offer below, the trees are effectually steadied, and protected from the leverage of the crown, by which they would otherwise be uprooted. Some of these buttresses are so smooth and flat, as almost to resemble sawn planks.

The greatest ornaments of the forest in these higher regions are the large flowering trees; the most striking of which is the Rhododendron, which in Ceylon forms a forest in the mountains, and when covered with flowers, it seems from a distance as though the hills were strewn with vermilion. This is the principal tree on the summit of Adam's Peak, and grows to the foot of the rock on which rests the little temple that covers the sacred footstep on its crest. Dr. Hooker states that the honey of its flowers is believed to be poisonous in some parts of Sikkim; but I never heard it so regarded in Ceylon.

One of the most magnificent of the flowering trees, is the coral tree[1], which is also the most familiar to Europeans, as the natives of the low country and the coast, from the circumstance of its stem being covered with thorns, plant it largely for fences, and grow it in the vicinity of their dwellings. It derives its English name from the resemblance which its scarlet flowers present to red coral, and as these clothe the branches before the leaves appear, their splendour attracts the eye from a distance, especially when lighted by the full blaze of the sun.

[Footnote 1: Erythrina Indica. It belongs to the pea tribe, and must not be confounded with the Jatropha multifida which has also acquired the name of the coral tree. Its wood is so light and spongy, that it is used in Ceylon to form corks for preserve jars; and both there and at Madras the natives make from it models of their implements of husbandry, and of their sailing boats and canoes.]

The Murutu[1] is another flowering tree which may vie with the Coral, the Rhododendron, or the Asoca, the favourite of Sanskrit poetry. It grows to a considerable height, especially in damp places and the neighbourhood of streams, and pains have been taken, from appreciation of its attractions, to plant it by the road side and in other conspicuous positions. From the points of the branches panicles are produced, two or three feet in length, composed of flowers, each the size of a rose and of all shades, from a delicate pink to the deepest purple. It abounds in the south-west of the island.

[Footnote 1: Lagerstroemia Reginae.]

The magnificent Asoca[1] is found in the interior, and is cultivated, though not successfully, in the Peradenia Garden, and in that attached to Elie House at Colombo. But in Toompane, and in the valley of Doombera, its loveliness vindicates all the praises bestowed on it by the poets of the East. Its orange and crimson flowers grow in graceful racemes, and the Singhalese, who have given the rhododendron the pre-eminent appellation of the "great red flower," (maha-rat-mal,) have called the Asoca the diya-rat-mal to indicate its partiality for "moisture," combined with its prevailing hue.

[Footnote 1: Jonesia Asoca.]

But the tree which will most frequently attract the eye of the traveller, is the kattoo-imbul of the Singhalese[1], one of which produces the silky cotton which, though incapable of being spun, owing to the shortness of its delicate fibre, makes the most luxurious stuffing for sofas and pillows. It is a tall tree covered with formidable thorns; and being deciduous, the fresh leaves, like those of the coral tree, do not make their appearance till after the crimson flowers have covered the branches with their bright tulip-like petals. So profuse are these gorgeous flowers, that when they fall, the ground for many roods on all sides is a carpet of scarlet. They are succeeded by large oblong pods, in which the black polished seeds are deeply embedded in the floss which is so much prized by the natives. The trunk is of an unusually bright green colour, and the branches issue horizontally from the stem, in whorls of threes with a distance of six or seven feet between each whorl.

[Footnote 1: Bombax Malabaricus. As the genus Bombax is confined to tropical America, the German botanists, Schott and Endlicher, have assigned to the imbul its ancient Sanskrit name, and described it as Salmalia Malabarica.]

Near every Buddhist temple the priests plant the Iron tree (Messua ferrea)[1] for the sake of its flowers, with which they decorate the images of Buddha. They resemble white roses, and form a singular contrast with the buds and shoots of the tree, which are of the deepest crimson. Along with its flowers the priests use likewise those of the Champac (Michelia Champaca), belonging to the family of magnoliaceae. They have a pale yellow tint, with the sweet oppressive perfume which is celebrated in the poetry of the Hindus. From the wood of the champac the images of Buddha are carved for the temples.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Gardner supposed the ironwood tree of Ceylon to have been confounded with the Messua ferrea of Linnaeus. He asserted it to be a distinct species, and assigned to it the well-known Singhalese name "nagaha," or iron-wood tree. But this conjecture has since proved erroneous.]

The celebrated Upas tree of Java (Antiaris toxicaria) which has been the subject of so many romances, exploded by Dr. Horsfield[1], was supposed by Dr. Gardner to exist in Ceylon, but more recent scrutiny has shown that what he mistook for it, was an allied species, the A. saccidora, which grows at Kornegalle, and in other parts of the island; and is scarcely less remarkable, though for very different characteristics. The Ceylon species was first brought to public notice by E. Rawdon Power, Esq., government agent of the Kandyan province, who sent specimens of it, and of the sacks which it furnishes, to the branch of the Asiatic Society at Colombo. It is known to the Singhalese by the name of "ritigaha," and is identical with the Lepurandra saccidora, from which the natives of Coorg, like those of Ceylon, manufacture an ingenious substitute for sacks by a process which is described by Mr. Nimmo.[2] "A branch is cut corresponding to the length and breadth of the bag required, it is soaked and then beaten with clubs till the liber separates from the timber. This done, the sack which is thus formed out of the bark is turned inside out, and drawn downwards to permit the wood to be sawn off, leaving a portion to form the bottom which is kept firmly in its place by the natural attachment of the bark."

[Footnote 1: The vegetable poisons, the use of which is ascribed to the Singhalese, are chiefly the seeds of the Datura, which act as a powerful narcotic, and those of the Croton tiglium, the excessive effect of which ends in death. The root of the Nerium odorum is equally fatal, as is likewise the exquisitely beautiful Gloriosa superba, whose brilliant flowers festoon the jungle in the plains of the low country. See Bennett's account of the Antiaris, in HORSFIELD'S Plantae Javanicae.]

[Footnote 2: Catalogue of Bombay Plants, p. 193. The process in Ceylon is thus described in Sir W. HOOKER'S Report on the Vegetable Products exhibited in Paris in 1855: "The trees chosen for the purpose measure above a foot in diameter. The felled trunks are cut into lengths, and the bark is well beaten with a stone or a club till the parenchymatous part comes off, leaving only the inner bark attached to the wood; which is thus easily drawn out by the hand. The bark thus obtained is fibrous and tough, resembling a woven fabric: it is sewn at one end into a sack, which is filled with sand, and dried in the sun."]

As we descend the hills the banyans[1] and a variety of figs make their appearance. They are the Thugs of the vegetable world, for although not necessarily epiphytic, it may be said that in point of fact no single plant comes to perfection, or acquires even partial development, without the destruction of some other on which to fix itself as its supporter. The family generally make their first appearance as slender roots hanging from the crown or trunk of some other tree, generally a palm, among the moist bases of whose leaves the seed carried thither by some bird which had fed upon the fig, begins to germinate. This root branching as it descends, envelopes the trunk of the supporting tree with a network of wood, and at length penetrating the ground, attains the dimensions of a stem. But unlike a stem it throws out no buds, leaves, or flowers; the true stem, with its branches, its foliage, and fruit, springs upwards from the crown of the tree whence the root is seen descending; and from it issue the pendulous rootlets, which, on reaching the earth, fix themselves firmly and form the marvellous growth for which the banyan is so celebrated.[2] In the depth of this grove, the original tree is incarcerated till, literally strangled by the folds and weight of its resistless companion, it dies and leaves the fig in undisturbed possession of its place. It is not unusual in the forest to find a fig-tree which had been thus upborne till it became a standard, now forming a hollow cylinder, the centre of which was once filled by the sustaining tree: but the empty walls form a circular network of interlaced roots and branches; firmly agglutinated under pressure, and admitting the light through interstices that look like loopholes in a turret.

[Footnote 1: Ficus Indica.]

[Footnote 2: I do not remember to have seen the following passage from Pliny referred to as the original of Milton's description of this marvellous tree:—

"Ipsa se serens, vastis diffunditur ramis: quorum imi adeo in terram curvantur, ut annuo spatio infigantur, novamque sibi propaginem faciant circa parentem in orbem. Intra septem eam aestivant pastores, opacam pariter et munitam vallo arboris, decora specie subter intuenti, proculve, fornicato arbore. Foliorum latitudo peltae effigiem Amazonicae habet," &c.—PLINY, 1. xii. c. 11.

"The fig-tree—not that kind for fruit renowned, But such as at this day to Indians known, In Malabar or Dekkan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that on the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree: a pillar'd shade High over arched and echoing walks between. There oft the Indian herdsman, shunning heat, Shelters in cool and tends his pasturing flocks At loop-holes cut through thickest shade. These leaves They gathered; broad as Amazonian targe: And with what skill they had, together sewed To gird their waist," &c.

Par. Lost, ix. 1100.

Pliny's description is borrowed, with some embellishments, from THEOPHRASTUS de. Nat. Plant. l. i. 7. iv. 4.]



Another species of the same genus, F. repens, is a fitting representative of the English ivy, and is constantly to be seen clambering over rocks, turning through heaps of stones, or ascending some tall tree to the height of thirty or forty feet, while the thickness of its own stem does not exceed a quarter of an inch.

The facility with which the seeds of the fig-tree take root where there is a sufficiency of moisture to permit of germination, has rendered them formidable assailants of the ancient monuments throughout Ceylon. The vast mounds of brickwork which constitute the remains of the Dagobas at Anarajapoora and Pollanarrua are covered densely with trees, among which the figs are always conspicuous. One, which has fixed itself on the walls of a ruined edifice at the latter city, forms one of the most remarkable objects of the place—its roots streaming downwards over the walls as if their wood had once been fluid, follow every sinuosity of the building and terraces till they reach the earth.



To this genus belongs the Sacred Bo-tree of the Buddhists, Ficus religiosa, which is planted close to every temple, and attracts almost as much veneration as the statue of the god himself. At Anarajapoora is still preserved the identical tree said to have been planted 288 years before the Christian era.[1]

[Footnote 1: For a memoir of this celebrated tree, see the account of Anarajapoora, Vol. II. p. 10.]

Although the India-rubber tree (F. elastica) is not indigenous to Ceylon, it is now very widely diffused over the island. It is remarkable for the pink leathery covering which envelopes the leaves before expansion, and for the delicate tracing of the nerves which run in equi-distant rows at right angles from the mid-rib. But its most striking feature is the exposure of its roots, masses of which appear above ground, extending on all sides from the base, and writhing over the surface in undulations—

"Like snakes in wild festoon, In ramous wrestlings interlaced, A forest Laocoon."[1]

[Footnote 1: HOOD's poem of The Elm Tree.]

So strong, in fact, is the resemblance, that the villagers give it the name of the "Snake-tree." One, which grows close to Cotta, at the Church Missionary establishment within a few miles of Colombo, affords a remarkable illustration of this peculiarity.



There is an avenue of these trees leading to the Gardens of Peradenia, the roots of which meet from either side of the road, and have so covered the surface by their agglutinated reticulations as to form a wooden framework, the interstices of which retain the materials that form the roadway.[1]

[Footnote 1: Mr. Ferguson of the Surveyor-General's Department, assures me that he once measured the root of a small wild fig-tree, growing in a patena at Hewahette, and found it upwards of 140 feet in length, whilst the tree itself was not 30 feet high.]

The Kumbuk of the Singhalese (called by the Tamils Maratha-maram)[1] is one of the noblest and most widely distributed trees in the island; it delights in the banks of rivers and moist borders of tanks and canals; it overshadows the stream of the Mahawelli-ganga, almost from Kandy to the sea; and it stretches its great arms above the still water of the lakes on the eastern side of the island.

[Footnote 1: Pentaptera tomentosa (Rox.).]

One venerable patriarch of this species, which grows at Mutwal, within three miles of Colombo, towers to so great a height above the surrounding forests of coconut palms, that it forms a landmark for the native boatmen, and is discernible from Negombo, more than twenty miles distant. The circumference of its stem, as measured by Mr. W. Ferguson, in 1850, was forty-five feet close to the earth, and seven yards at twelve feet above the ground.

The timber, which is durable, is applied to the carving of idols for the temples, besides being extensively used for less dignified purposes; but it is chiefly prized for the bark, which is sold as a medicine, and, in addition to yielding a black dye, it is so charged with calcareous matter that its ashes, when burnt, afford a substitute for the lime which the natives chew with their betel.

Some of the trees found in the forests of the interior are remarkable for the curious forms in which they produce their seeds. One of these, which sometimes grows to the height of one hundred feet without throwing out a single branch, has been confounded with the durian of the Eastern Archipelago, or supposed to be an allied species[1], but it differs from it in the important particular that its fruit is not edible. The real durian is not indigenous to Ceylon, but was brought there by the Portuguese in the sixteenth century.[2] It has been very recently re-introduced, and is now cultivated successfully. The native name for the Singhalese tree, "Katu-boeda," denotes the prickles that cover its fruit, which is as large as a coco-nut, and set with thorns each nearly an inch in length.

[Footnote 1: It is the Cullenia excelsa of WIGHT's Icones, &c. (761-2).]

[Footnote 2: PORCACCHI, in his Isolario, written in the sixteenth century, enumerates the true durian as being then amongst the ordinary fruit of Ceylon.—"Vi nasce anchora un frutto detto Duriano, verde et grande come quei cocomeri, che a Venetia son chiamati angurie: in mezo del quale trouano dentro cinque frutti de sapor molto excellente."—Lib. iii. p. 188. Padua, A.D. 1619.]

The Sterculia foetida, one of the finest and noblest of the Ceylon forest-trees, produces from the end of its branches large bunches of dark purple flowers of extreme richness and beauty; but emitting a stench so intolerable as richly to entitle it to its very characteristic botanical name. The fruit is equally remarkable, and consists of several crimson cases of the consistency of leather, within which are enclosed a number of black bean-like seeds: these are dispersed by the bursting of their envelope, which splits open to liberate them when sufficiently ripened.

The Moodilla (Barringtonia speciosa) is another tree which attracts the eye of the traveller, not less from the remarkably shaped fruit which it bears than from the contrast between its dark glossy leaves and the delicate flowers which they surround. The latter are white, tipped with crimson, but the petals drop off early, and the stamens, of which there are nearly a hundred to each flower, when they fall to the ground might almost be mistaken for painters' brushes. The tree (as its name implies) loves the shore of the sea, and its large quadrangular fruits, of pyramidal form, being protected by a hard fibrous covering, are tossed by the waves till they root themselves on the beach. It grows freely at the mouths of the principal rivers on the west coast, and several noble specimens of it are found near the fort of Colombo.

The Goda-kaduru, or Strychnos nux-vomica is abundant in these prodigious forests, and has obtained an European celebrity on account of its producing the poisonous seeds from which strychnine is extracted. Its fruit, which it exhibits in great profusion, is of the size and colour of a small orange, within which a pulpy substance envelopes the seeds that form the "nux-vomica" of commerce. It grows in great luxuriance in the vicinity of the ruined tanks throughout the Wanny, and on the west coast as far south as Negombo. It is singular that in this genus there should be found two plants, the seeds of one being not only harmless but wholesome, and that of the other the most formidable of known poisons.[1] Amongst the Malabar immigrants there is a belief that the seeds of the goda-kaduru, if habitually taken, will act as a prophylactic against the venom of the cobra de capello; and I have been assured that the coolies coming from the coast of India accustom themselves to eat a single seed per day in order to acquire the desired protection from the effects of this serpent's bite.[2]

[Footnote 1: The tettan-cotta, the use of which is described in Vol. II. Pt. ix. ch. i. p. 411, when applied by the natives to clarify muddy water, is the seed of another species of strychnos, S. potatorum. The Singhalese name is ingini (tettan-cotta is Tamil).]

[Footnote 2: In India, the distillers of arrack from the juice of the coco-nut palm are said, by Roxburgh, to introduce the seeds of the strychnus, in order to increase the intoxicating power of the spirit.]

In these forests the Euphorbia[1], which we are accustomed to see only as a cactus-like green-house plant, attains the size and strength of a small timber-tree; its quadrangular stem becomes circular and woody, and its square fleshy shoots take the form of branches, or rise with a rounded top as high as thirty feet.[2]

[Footnote 1: E. Antiquorun.]

[Footnote 2: Amongst the remarkable plants of Ceylon, there is one concerning which a singular error has been perpetuated in botanical works from the time of Paul Hermann, who first described it in 1687, to the present. I mean the kiri-anguna (Gymnema lactiferum), evidently a form of the G. sylvestre, to which has been given the name of the Ceylon cow-tree; and it is asserted that the natives drink its juice as we do milk. LOUDON (Ency. of Plants, p. 197) says, "The milk of the G. lactiferum is used instead of the vaccine ichor, and the leaves are employed in sauces in the room of cream." And LINDLEY, in his Vegetable Kingdom, in speaking of the Asclepiads, says, "the cow plant of Ceylon, 'kiri-anguna,' yields a milk of which the Singhalese make use for food; and its leaves are also used when boiled." Even in the English Cyclopaedia of CHARLES KNIGHT, published so lately as 1854, this error is repeated. (See art. Cow-tree, p. 178.) But this in altogether a mistake;—the Ceylon plant, like many others, has acquired its epithet of kiri, not from the juices being susceptible of being used as a substitute for milk, but simply from its resemblance to it in colour and consistency. It is a creeper, found on the southern and western coasts, and used medicinally by the natives, but never as an article of food. The leaves, when chopped and boiled, are administered to nurses by native practitioners, and are supposed to increase the secretion of milk. As to its use, as stated by London, in lieu of the vaccine matter, it is altogether erroneous. MOON, in his Catalogue of the Plants of Ceylon, has accidentally mentioned the kiri-anguna twice, being misled by the Pali synonym "kiri-hangula": they are the same plant, though he has inserted them as different, p. 21.]

But that which arrests the attention even of an indifferent passer-by is the endless variety and almost inconceivable size and luxuriance of the climbing plants and epiphytes which live upon the forest trees in every part of the island. It is rare to see a single tree without its families of dependents of this description, and on one occasion I counted on a single prostrate stem no less than sixteen species of Capparis, Beaumontia, Bignonia, Ipomoea, and other genera, which, in its fall, it had brought along with it to the ground. Those which are free from climbing plants have their higher branches and hollows occupied by ferns and orchids, of which latter the variety is endless in Ceylon, though the beauty of their flower is not equal to those of Brazil and other tropical countries. In the many excursions which I made with Dr. Gardner he added numerous species to those already known, including the exquisite Saccolabium guttatum, which we came upon in the vicinity of Bintenne, but which had before been discovered in Java and the mountains of northern India. Its large groups of lilac flowers hung in rich festoons from the branches as we rode under them, and caused us many an involuntary halt to admire and secure the plants.

A rich harvest of botanical discovery still remains for the scientific explorer of the districts south and east of Adam's Peak, whence Dr. Gardner's successor, Mr. Thwaites, has already brought some remarkable species. Many of the Ceylon orchids, like those of South America, exhibit a grotesque similitude to various animals; and one, a Dendrobium., which the Singhalese cultivate in the palms near their dwelling, bears a name equivalent to the White-pigeon flower, from the resemblance which its clusters present to a group of those birds in miniature clinging to the stem with wings at rest.

But of this order the most exquisite plant I have seen is the Anaectochilus setaceus, a terrestrial orchid which is to be found about the moist roots of the forest trees, and has drawn the attention of even the apathetic Singhalese, among whom its singular beauty has won for it the popular name of the Wanna Raja, or "King of the Forest." It is common in humid and shady places a few miles removed from the sea-coast; its flowers have no particular attraction, but its leaves are perhaps the most exquisitely formed in the vegetable kingdom; their colour resembles dark velvet, approaching to black, and reticulated over all the surface with veins of ruddy gold.[1]

[Footnote 1: There is another small orchid bearing a slight resemblance to the wanna raja, which is often found growing along with it, called by the Singhalese iri raja, or "striped king." Its leaves are somewhat bronzed, but they are longer and narrower than those of the wanna raja; and, as its Singhalese name implies, it has two white stripes running through the length of each. They are not of the same genus; the wanna raja being the only species of Anaectochilus yet found in Ceylon.]

The branches of all the lower trees and brushwood are so densely covered with convolvuli, and similar delicate climbers of every colour, that frequently it is difficult to discover the tree which supports them, owing to the heaps of verdure under which it is concealed. One very curious creeper, which always catches the eye, is the square-stemmed vine[1], whose fleshy four-sided runners climb the highest trees, and hang down in the most fantastic bunches. Its stem, like that of another plant of the same genus (the Vitis Indica), when freshly cut, yields a copious draught of pure tasteless fluid, and is eagerly sought after by elephants.

[Footnote 1: Cissus edulis, Dalz.]

But it is the trees of older and loftier growth that exhibit the rank luxuriance of these wonderful epiphytes in the most striking manner. They are tormented by climbing plants of such extraordinary dimensions that many of them exceed in diameter the girth of a man; and these gigantic appendages are to be seen surmounting the tallest trees of the forest, grasping their stems in firm convolutions, and then flinging their monstrous tendrils over the larger limbs till they reach the top, whence they descend to the ground in huge festoons, and, after including another and another tree in their successive toils, they once more ascend to the summit, and wind the whole into a maze of living network as massy as if formed by the cable of a line-of-battle ship. When, by-and-by, the trees on which this singular fabric has become suspended give way under its weight, or sink by their own decay, the fallen trunk speedily disappears, whilst the convolutions of climbers continue to grow on, exhibiting one of the most marvellous and peculiar living mounds of confusion that it is possible to fancy. Frequently one of these creepers may be seen holding by one extremity the summit of a tall tree, and grasping with the other an object at some distance near the earth, between which it is strained as tight and straight as if hauled over a block. In all probability the young tendril had been originally fixed in this position by the wind, and retained in it till it had gained its maturity, where it has the appearance of having been artificially arranged as if to support a falling tree.

This peculiarity of tropical vegetation has been turned to profitable account by the Ceylon woodmen, employed by the European planters in felling forest trees, preparatory to the cultivation of coffee. In this craft they are singularly expert, and far surpass the Malabar coolies, who assist in the same operations. In steep and mountainous places where the trees have been thus lashed together by the interlacing climbers, the practice is to cut halfway through each stem in succession, till an area of some acres in extent is prepared for the final overthrow. Then severing some tall group on the eminence, and allowing it in its descent to precipitate itself on those below, the whole expanse is in one moment brought headlong to the ground; the falling timber forcing down those beneath it by its weight, and dragging those behind to which it is harnessed by its living attachments. The crash occasioned by this startling operation is so deafeningly loud, that it is audible for two or three miles in the clear and still atmosphere of the hills.

One monstrous creeping plant called by the Kandyans the Maha-pus-wael, or "Great hollow climber,"[1] has pods, some of which I have seen fully five feet long and six inches broad, with beautiful brown beans, so large that the natives hollow them out, and carry them as tinder-boxes.

[Footnote 1: Entada pursaetha. The same plant, when found in lower situations, where it wants the soil and moisture of the mountains, is so altered in appearance that the natives call it the "heen-pus-wael;" and even botanists have taken it for a distinct species. The beautiful mountain region of Pusilawa, now familiar as one of the finest coffee districts in Ceylon, in all probability takes its name from the giant bean, "Pus-waelawa."]

Another climber of less dimensions[1], but greater luxuriance, haunts the jungle, and often reaches the tops of the highest trees, whence it suspends large bunches of its yellow flowers, and eventually produces clusters of prickly pods containing greyish-coloured seeds, less than an inch in diameter, which are so strongly coated with silex, that they are said to strike fire like a flint.

[Footnote 1: Guilandina Bonduc.]

One other curious climber is remarkable for the vigour and vitality of its vegetation, a faculty in which it equals, if it do not surpass, the banyan. This is the Cocculus cordifolius, the "rasa-kindu" of the Singhalese, a medicinal plant which produces the guluncha of Bengal. It is largely cultivated in Ceylon, and when it has acquired the diameter of half an inch, it is not unusual for the natives to cut from the main stem a portion of from twenty to thirty feet in length, leaving the dissevered plant suspended from the branches of the tree which sustained it. The amputation naturally serves for a time to check its growth, but presently small rootlets, not thicker than a pack-thread, are seen shooting downwards from the wounded end; these swing in the wind till, reaching the ground, they attach themselves in the soil, and form new stems, which in turn, when sufficiently grown, are cut away and replaced by a subsequent growth. Such is its tenacity of life, that when the Singhalese wish to grow the rasa-kindu, they twist several yards of the stem into a coil of six or eight inches in diameter, and simply hang it on the branch of a tree, where it speedily puts forth its large heart-shaped leaves, and sends down its rootlets to the earth.

The ground too has its creepers, and some of them very curious. The most remarkable are the ratans, belonging to the Calamus genus of palms. Of these I have seen a specimen 250 feet long and an inch in diameter, without a single irregularity, and no appearance of foliage other than the bunch of feathery leaves at the extremity.

The strength of these slender plants is so extreme, that the natives employ them with striking success in the formation of bridges across the water-courses and ravines. One which crossed the falls of the Mahawelliganga, in the Kotmahe range of hills, was constructed with the scientific precision of an engineer's work. It was entirely composed of the plant, called by the natives the "Waywel," its extremities fastened to living trees, on the opposite sides of the ravine through which a furious and otherwise impassable mountain torrent thundered and fell from rock to rock with a descent of nearly 100 feet. The flooring of this aerial bridge consisted of short splints of wood, laid transversely, and bound in their places by thin strips of the waywel itself. The whole structure vibrated and swayed with fearful ease, but the coolies traversed it though heavily laden; and the European, between whose estate and the high road it lay, rode over it daily without dismounting.

Another class of trees which excites the astonishment of an European, are those whose stems are protected, as high as cattle can reach, by thorns, which in the jungle attain a growth and size quite surprising. One species of palm[1], the Caryota horrida, often rises to a height of fifty feet, and has a coating of thorns for about six or eight feet from the ground, each about an inch in length, and so densely covering the stem that the bark is barely visible.

[Footnote 1: This palm I have called a Caryota on the authority of Dr. GARDNER, and of MOON'S Catalogue; but I have been informed by Dr. HOOKER and Mr. THWAITES that it is an Areca. The natives identify it with the Caryota, and call it the "katu-kittul."]

A climbing plant, the "Kudu-miris" of the Singhalese[1], very common in the hill jungles, with a diameter of three or four inches, is thickly studded with knobs about half an inch high, and from the extremity of each a thorn protrudes, as large and sharp as the bill of a sparrow-hawk. It has been the custom of the Singhalese from time immemorial, to employ the thorny trees of their forests in the construction of defences against their enemies. The Mahawanso relates, that in the civil wars, in the reign of Prakrama-bahu in the twelfth century, the inhabitants of the southern portion of the island intrenched themselves against his forces behind moats filled with thorns.[2] And at an earlier period, during the contest of Dutugaimunu with Elala, the same authority states, that a town which he was about to attack was "surrounded on all sides by the thorny Dadambo creeper (probably Toddalia aculeata), within which was a triple hue of fortifications, with one gate of difficult access."[3]

[Footnote 1: Toddalia aculeata.]

[Footnote 2: Mahawanso ch. lxxiv.]

[Footnote 3: Mahawanso ch. xxv.]

During the existence of the Kandyan kingdom as an independent state, before its conquest by the British, the frontier forests were so thickened and defended by dense plantations of these thorny palms and climbers at different points, as to exhibit a natural fortification impregnable to the feeble tribes on the other side, and at each pass which led to the level country, movable gates, formed of the same formidable thorny beams, were suspended as an ample security against the incursions of the naked and timid lowlanders.[1]

[Footnote 1: The kings of Kandy maintained a regulation "that no one; on pain of death, should presume to cut a road through the forest wider than was sufficient for one person to pass."—WOLF'S Life and Adventures, p. 308.]

The pasture grounds throughout the vicinity of Jaffna abound in a low shrub called the Buffalo-thorn[1], the black twigs of which are beset at every joint by a pair of thorns, set opposite each other like the horns of an ox, as sharp as a needle, from two to three inches in length, and thicker at the base than the stem they grow on.

[Footnote 1: Acacia latronum.]

The Acacia tomentosa is of the same genus, with thorns so large as to be called the "jungle-nail" by Europeans. It is frequent in the woods of Jaffna and Manaar, where it bears the Tamil name of Aani mulla, or "elephant thorn." In some of these thorny plants, as in the Phoberos Goertneri, Thun.,[1] the spines grow not singly, but in branching clusters, each point presenting a spike as sharp as a lancet; and where these formidable shrubs abound they render the forest absolutely impassable, even to the elephant and to animals of great size and force.

[Footnote 1: Mr. Wm. Ferguson writes to me, "This is the famous Katu-kurundu, or 'thoray cinnamon,' of the Singhalese, figured and described by Gaertner as the Limonia pusilla, which after a great deal of labour and research I think I have identified as the Phoberos macrophyllus" (W. and A. Prod. p. 30). Thunberg alludes to it (Travels, vol. iv.)—"Why the Singhalese have called it a cinnamon, I do not know, unless from some fancied similarity in its seeds to those of the cinnamon laurel."]

The family of trees which, from their singularity as well as their beauty, most attract the eye of the traveller in the forests of Ceylon, are the palms, which occur in rich profusion, although, of upwards of six hundred species which are found in other countries, not more than ten or twelve are indigenous to the island.[1] At the head of these is the coco-nut, every particle of whose substance, stem, leaves, and fruit, the Singhalese turn to so many accounts, that one of their favourite topics to a stranger is to enumerate the hundred uses to which they tell us this invaluable tree is applied.[2]

[Footnote 1: Mr. Thwaites has enumerated fifteen species (including the coco-nut, and excluding the Nipa fruticans, which more properly belongs to the family of screw-pines): viz. Areca, 4; Caryota, 1; Calamus, 5; Borassus, 1; Corypha, 1; Phoenix, 2; Cocos, 1.]

[Footnote 2: The following are only a few of the countless uses of this invaluable tree. The leaves, for roofing, for mats, for baskets, torches or chules, fuel, brooms, fodder for cattle, manure. The stem of the leaf, for fences, for pingoes (or yokes) for carrying burthens on the shoulders, for fishing-rods, and innumerable domestic utensils. The cabbage or cluster of unexpended leaves, for pickles and preserves. The sap for toddy, for distilling arrack, and for making vinegar, and sugar. The unformed nut, for medicine and sweetmeats. The young nut and its milk, for drinking, for dessert; the green husk for preserves. The nut, for eating, for curry, for milk, for cooking. The oil, for rheumatism, for anointing the hair, for soap, for candles, for light; and the poonak, or refuse of the nut after expressing the oil, for cattle and poultry. The shell of the nut, for drinking cups, charcoal, tooth-powder, spoons, medicine, hookahs, beads, bottles, and knife-handles. The coir, or fibre which envelopes the shell within the outer husk, for mattresses, cushions, ropes, cables, cordage, canvass, fishing-nets, fuel, brushes, oakum, and floor mats. The trunk, for rafters, laths, railing, boats, troughs, furniture, firewood; and when very young, the first shoots, or cabbage, as a vegetable for the table. The entire list, with a Singhalese enthusiast, is an interminable narration of the virtues of his favourite tree.]

The most majestic and wonderful of the palm tribe is the talpat or talipat[1], the stem of which sometimes attains the height of 100 feet, and each of its enormous fan-like leaves, when laid upon the ground, will form a semicircle of 16 feet in diameter, and cover an area of nearly 200 superficial feet. The tree flowers but once, and dies; and the natives firmly believe that the bursting of the shadix is accompanied by a loud explosion. The leaves alone are converted by the Singhalese to purposes of utility. Of them they form coverings for their houses, and portable tents of a rude but effective character; and on occasions of ceremony, each chief and headman on walking abroad is attended by a follower, who holds above his head an elaborately-ornamented fan, formed from a single leaf of the talpat.

[Footnote 1: Corypha umbraculifera, Linn.]

But the most interesting use to which they are applied is as substitutes for paper, both for books and for ordinary purposes. In the preparation of olas, which is the term applied to them when so employed, the leaves are taken whilst still tender, and, after separating the central ribs, they are cut into strips and boiled in spring water. They are dried first in the shade, and afterwards in the sun, then made into rolls, and kept in store, or sent to the market for sale. Before they are fit for writing on they are subjected to a second process, called madema. A smooth plank of areca-palm is tied horizontally between two trees, each ola is then damped, and a weight being attached to one end of it, it is drawn backwards and forwards across the edge of the wood till the surface becomes perfectly smooth and polished; and during the process, as the moisture dries up, it is necessary to renew it till the effect is complete. The smoothing of a single ola will occupy from fifteen to twenty minutes.[1]

[Footnote 1: See Vol. II. p. 528.]

The finest specimens in Ceylon are to be obtained at the Panselas, or Buddhist monasteries; they are known as puskola and are prepared by the Samanera priests (novices) and the students, under the superintendence of the priests.

The raw leaves, when dried without any preparation, are called karakola, and, like the leaves of the palmyra, are used only for ordinary purposes by the Singhalese; but in the Tamil districts, where palmyras are abundant, and talpat palms rare, the leaves of the former are used for books as well as for letters.

The palmyra[1] is another invaluable palm, and one of the most beautiful of the family. It grows in such profusion over the north of Ceylon, and especially in the peninsula of Jaffna, as to form extensive forests, whence its timber is exported for rafters to all parts of the island, as well as to the opposite coast of India, where, though the palmyra grows luxuriantly, its wood, from local causes, is too soft and perishable to be used for any purpose requiring strength and durability, qualities which, in the palmyra of Ceylon, are pre-eminent. To the inhabitants of the northern provinces this invaluable tree is of the same importance as the coco-nut palm is to the natives of the south. Its fruit yields them food and oil; its juice "palm wine" and sugar; its stem is the chief material of their buildings; and its leaves, besides serving as roofs to their dwellings and fences to their farms, supply them with matting and baskets, with head-dresses and fans, and serve as a substitute for paper for their deeds and writings, and for the sacred books, which contain the traditions of their faith. It has been said with truth that a native of Jaffna, if he be contented with ordinary doors and mud walls, may build an entire house (as he wants neither nails nor iron work), with walls, roof, and covering from the Palmyra palm. From this same tree he may draw his wine, make his oil, kindle his fire, carry his water, store his food, cook his repast, and sweeten it, if he pleases; in fact, live from day to day dependent on his palmyra alone. Multitudes so live, and it may be safely asserted that this tree alone furnishes one-fourth the means of sustenance for the population of the northern provinces.

[Footnote 1: Borassus flabelliformis. For an account of the Palmyra, and its cultivation in the peninsula of Jaffna, see FERGUSON'S monograph on the Palmyra Palm of Ceylon, Colombo, 1850.]

The Jaggery Palm[1], the Kitool of the Singhalese, is chiefly cultivated in the Kandyan hills for the sake of its sap, which is drawn, boiled down, and crystallised into a coarse brown sugar, in universal use amongst the inhabitants of the south and west of Ceylon, who also extract from its pith a farina scarcely inferior to sago. The black fibre of the leaf is twisted by the Rodiyas into ropes of considerable smoothness and tenacity. A single Kitool tree has been pointed out at Ambogammoa, which furnished the support of a Kandyan, his wife, and their children. A tree has been known to yield one hundred pints of toddy within twenty-four hours.

[Footnote 1: Caryota urens.]

The Areca[1] Palm is the invariable feature of a native garden, being planted near the wells and water-courses, as it rejoices in moisture. Of all the tribe it is the most graceful and delicate, rising to the height of forty or fifty feet[2], without an inequality on its thin polished stem, which is dark green towards the top, and sustains a crown of feathery foliage, in the midst of which are clustered the astringent nuts for whose sake it is carefully tended.

[Footnote 1: A. catechu.]

[Footnote 2: Mr. Ferguson measured an areca at Caltura which was seventy-five feet high, and grew near a coco-nut which was upwards of ninety feet. Caltura is, however, remarkable for the growth and luxuriance of its vegetation.]

The chewing of these nuts with lime and the leaf of the betel-pepper supplies to the people of Ceylon the same enjoyment which tobacco affords to the inhabitants of other countries; but its use is, if possible, more offensive, as the three articles, when combined, colour the saliva of so deep a red that the lips and teeth appear as if covered with blood. Yet, in spite of this disgusting accompaniment, men and women, old and young, from morning till night indulge in the repulsive luxury.[1]

[Footnote 1: Dr. Elliot, of Colombo, has observed several cases of cancer in the cheek which, from its peculiar characteristics, he has designated the "betel-chewer's cancer."]

It is seldom, however, that we find in semi-civilised life habits universally prevailing which have not their origin, however ultimately they may be abused by excess, in some sense of utility. The Turk, when he adds to the oppressive warmth of the sun by enveloping his forehead in a cumbrous turban, or the Arab, when he increases the sultry heat by swathing his waist in a showy girdle, may appear to act on no other calculation than a willingness to sacrifice comfort to a love of display; but the custom in each instance is the result of precaution—in the former, because the head requires especial protection from sun-strokes; and in the latter, from the fact well known to the Greeks ([Greek: eozonoi Achaioi]) that, in a warm climate, danger is to be apprehended from a sudden chill to that particular region of the stomach. In like manner, in the chewing of the areca-nut with its accompaniments of lime and betel, the native of Ceylon is unconsciously applying a specific corrective to the defective qualities of his daily food. Never eating flesh meat by any chance, seldom or never using milk, butter, poultry, or eggs, and tasting fish but occasionally (more rarely in the interior of the island,) the non-azotised elements abound in every article he consumes with the exception of the bread-fruit, the jak, and some varieties of beans. In their indolent and feeble stomachs these are liable to degenerate into flatulent and acrid products; but, apparently by instinct, the whole population have adopted a simple prophylactic. Every Singhalese carries in his waistcloth an ornamented box of silver or brass, according to his means, enclosing a smaller one to hold a portion of chunam (lime obtained by the calcination of shells) whilst the larger contains the nuts of the areca and a few fresh leaves of the betel-pepper. As inclination or habit impels, he scrapes down the nut, which abounds in catechu, and, rolling it up with a little of the lime in a betel-leaf, the whole is chewed, and finally swallowed, after provoking an extreme salivation. No medical prescription could be more judiciously compounded to effect the desired object than this practical combination of antacid, the tonic, and carminative.

The custom is so ancient in Ceylon and in India that the Arabs and Persians who resorted to Hindustan in the eighth and ninth centuries carried back the habit to their own country; and Massoudi, the traveller of Bagdad, who wrote the account of his voyages in A.D. 943, states that the chewing of betel prevailed along the southern coast of Arabia, and reached as far as Yemen and Mecca.[1] Ibn Batuta saw the betel plant at Zahfar A.D. 1332, and describes it accurately as trained like a vine over a trellis of reeds, or climbing the steins of the coco-nut palm.[2]

[Footnote 1: Massoudi, Maraudj-al-Dzeheb, as translated by REINAUD, Memoire sur l'Lede. p. 230.]

[Footnote 2: Voyages, &c. t. ii. p. 205.]

The leaves of the coca[1] supply the Indians of Bolivia and Peru with a stimulant, whose use is equivalent to that of the betel-pepper among the natives of Hindustan and the Eastern Archipelago. With an admixture of lime, they are chewed perseveringly; but, unlike the betel, the colour imparted by them to the saliva is greenish, instead of red. It is curious, too, as a coincidence common to the humblest phases of semi-civilised life, that, in the absence of coined money, the leaves of the coca form a rude kind of currency in the Andes, as does the betel in some parts of Ceylon, and tobacco amongst the tribes of the south-west of Africa.[2]

[Footnote 1: Erythroxylon coca.]

[Footnote 2: Tobacco was a currency in North America when Virginia was colonised in the early part of the 17th century; debts were contracted and paid in it, and in every ordinary transaction tobacco answered the purposes of coin.]

Neither catechu nor its impure equivalent, "terra japonica," is prepared from the areca in Ceylon; but the nuts are exported in large quantities to the Maldive Islands and to India, the produce of which they excel both in astringency and size. The fibrous wood of the areca being at once straight, firm, and elastic, is employed for making the pingoes (yokes for the shoulders), by means of which the Singhalese coolie, like the corresponding class among the ancient Egyptians and the Greeks, carries his burdens, dividing them into portions of equal weight, one of which is suspended from each end of the pingo. By a swaying motion communicated to them as he starts, his own movement is facilitated, whereas one unaccustomed to the work, by allowing the oscillation to become irregular, finds it almost impossible to proceed with a load of any considerable weight.[1]

[Footnote 1: The natives of Tahti use a yoke of the same form as the Singhalese pingo, but made from the wood of the Hibiscus tiliaceus.—DARWIN, Nat. Voy. ch. xviii. p. 407. For a further account of the pingo see Vol. I. Part iv. ch. viii. p. 497.]

Timber trees, either for export or domestic use, are not found in any abundance except in the low country, and here the facility of floating them to the sea, down the streams which intersect the eastern coast of the island, has given rise to an active trade at Batticaloa and Trincomalie. But, unfortunately, the indifference of the local officers entrusted with the issue of licences to fell, and the imperfect control exercised over the adventurers who embark in these speculations, has led to a destruction of trees quite disproportionate to the timber obtained, and utterly incompatible with the conservation of the valuable kinds. The East India Company have had occasion to deplore the loss of their teak forests by similar neglect and mismanagement; and it is to be hoped that, ere too late, the attention of the Ceylon Government may be so directed to this important subject as to lead to the appointment of competent foresters, under whose authority and superintendence the felling of timber may be carried on.

An interesting memoir on the timber trees of Ceylon has been prepared by a native officer at Colombo, Adrian Mendis, of Morottu, carpeater-moodliar to the Royal Engineers, in which he has enumerated upwards of ninety species, which, in various parts of the island, are employed either as timber or cabinet woods.[1] Of these, the jak, the Kangtal of Bengal (Artocarpus integrifolia), is, next to the coco-nut and Palmyra, by far the most valuable to the Singhalese; its fruit, which sometimes attains the weight of 50 lbs., supplying food for their table, its leaves fodder for their cattle, and its trunk timber for every conceivable purpose both oeconomic and ornamental. The Jak tree, as well as the Del, or wild bread-fruit, is indigenous to the forests on the coast and in the central provinces; but, although the latter is found in the vicinity of the villages, it does not appear to be an object of special cultivation. The Jak, on the contrary, is planted near every house, and forms the shade of every garden. Its wood, at first yellow, approaches the colour of mahogany after a little exposure to the air, and resembles it at all times in its grain and marking.

[Footnote 1: Mendis' List will be found appended to the Ceylon Calendar for 1854.]

The Del (Artocarpus pubescens) affords a valuable timber, not only for architectural purposes, but for ship-building. It and the Halmalille[1] resembling but larger than the linden tree of England, to which it is closely allied, are the favourite building woods of the natives, and the latter is used for carts, casks, and all household purposes, as well as for the hulls of their boats, from the belief that It resists the attack of the marine worms, and that some unctuous property in the wood preserves the iron work from rust.[2]

[Footnote 1: Berry a ammonilla.]

[Footnote 2: The Masula boats, which brave the formidable surf of Madrus are made of Halmalille, which is there called "Trincomalie wood" from the place of exportation.]

The Teak (Tectona grandis), which is superior to all others, is not a native of this island, and although largely planted, has not been altogether successful. But the satin-wood[1], in point of size and durability, is by far the first of the timber trees of Ceylon. For days together I have ridden under its magnificent shade. All the forests around Batticaloa and Trincomalie, and as far north as Jaffna, are thickly set with this valuable tree. It grows to the height of a hundred feet, with a rugged grey bark, small white flowers, and polished leaves, with a somewhat unpleasant odour. Owing to the difficulty of carrying its heavy beams, the natives only cut it near the banks of the rivers, down which it is floated to the coast, whence large quantities are exported to every part of the colony. The richly-coloured and feathery pieces are used for cabinet-work, and the more ordinary logs for building purposes, every house in the eastern province being floored and timbered with satin-wood.

[Footnote 1: Chieroxylon Swietenia.]

Another useful tree, very common in Ceylon, is the Suria[1], with flowers so like those of a tulip that Europeans know it as the tulip tree. It loves the sea air and saline soils. It is planted all along the avenues and streets in the towns near the coast, where it is equally valued for its shade and the beauty of its yellow flowers, whilst its tough wood is used for carriage shafts and gun-stocks.

[Footnote 1: Thespesia populnea.]

The forests to the east furnish the only valuable cabinet woods used in Ceylon, the chief of which is ebony[1], which grows in great abundance throughout all the flat country to the west of Trincomalie. It is a different species from the ebony of Mauritius[2], and excels it and all others in the evenness and intensity of its colour. The centre of the trunk is the only portion which furnishes the extremely black part which is the ebony of commerce; but the trees are of such magnitude that reduced logs of two feet in diameter, and varying from ten to fifteen feet in length, can readily be procured from the forests at Trincomalie.

[Footnote 1: Diospyros ebenum.]

[Footnote 2: D. reticulata.]

There is another cabinet wood, of extreme beauty, called by the natives Cadooberia. It is a bastard species of ebony[1], in which the prevailing black is stained with stripes of rich brown, approaching to yellow and pink. But its density is inconsiderable, and in durability it is far inferior to that of true ebony.

[Footnote 1: D. ebenaster.]

The Calamander[1], the most valuable cabinet wood of the island, resembling rose-wood, but much surpassing it both in beauty and durability, has at all times been in the greatest repute in Ceylon. It grows chiefly in the southern provinces, and especially in the forests at the foot of Adam's Peak; but here it has been so prodigally felled, first by the Dutch, and afterwards by the English, without any precautions for planting or production, that it has at last become exceedingly rare. Wood of a large scantling is hardly procurable at any price; and it is only in a very few localities, the principal of which is Saffragam, in the western province, that even small sticks are now to be found; one reason, assigned for this is that the heart of the tree is seldom sound, a peculiarity which extends to the Cadooberia.

[Footnote 1: D. hirsuta.]

The twisted portions, and especially the roots of the latter, yield veneers of unusual beauty, dark wavings and blotches, almost black, being gracefully disposed over a delicate fawn-coloured ground. Its density is so great (nearly 60 lbs. to a cubic foot) that it takes an exquisite polish, and is in every way adapted for the manufacture of furniture, in the ornamenting of which the native carpenters excel. The chiefs and headmen, with a full appreciation of its beauty, take particular pride in possessing specimens of this beautiful wood, roots of which they regard as most acceptable gifts.

Notwithstanding its value, the tree is nearly eradicated, and runs some risk of becoming extinct in the island; but, as it is not peculiar to Ceylon, it may be restored by fresh importations from the south-eastern coast of India, of which it is equally a native, and I apprehend that the name, Calamander, which was used by the Dutch, is but a corruption of "Coromandel."

Another species of cabinet wood is produced from the Nedun[1], a large tree common on the western coast; it belongs to the Pea tribe, and is allied to the Sisso of India. Its wood, which is lighter than the "Blackwood" of Bombay, is used for similar purposes.

[Footnote 1: Dalbergia lanceolaria.]

The Tamarind tree[1], and especially its fine roots, produce a variegated cabinet wood of much beauty, but of such extreme hardness as scarcely to be workable by any ordinary tool.[2]

[Footnote 1: Tamarindus Indica.]

[Footnote 2: The natives of Western India have a belief that the shade of the tamarind tree is unhealthy, if not poisonous. But in Ceylon it is an object of the people, especially in the north of the island, to build their houses under it, from the conviction that of all trees its shade is the coolest. In this feeling, too, the Europeans are so far disposed to concur that it has been suggested whether there may not be something peculiar in the respiration of its leaves. The Singhalese have an idea that the twigs of the ranna-wara (Cassia auriculata) diffuse an agreeable coolness, and they pull them for the sake of enjoying it by holding them in their hands or applied to the head. In the south of Ceylon it is called the Matura tea-tree, its leaves being infused as a substitute for tea.]

As to fruit trees, it is only on the coast, or near the large villages and towns, that they are found in any perfection. In the deepest jungle the sight of a single coco-nut towering above the other foliage is in Ceylon a never-failing landmark to intimate to a traveller his approach to a village. The natives have a superstition that the coco-nut will not grow out of the sound of the human voice, and will die if the village where it had previously thriven become deserted; the solution of the mystery being in all probability the superior care and manuring which it receives in such localities.[1] In the generality of the forest hamlets there are always to be found a few venerable Tamarind trees of patriarchal proportions, the ubiquitous Jak, with its huge fruits, weighing from 5 to 50 lbs. (the largest eatable fruit in the world), each springing from the rugged surface of the bark, and suspended by a powerful stalk, which attaches it to the trunk of the tree. Lime-trees, Oranges, and Shaddoks are carefully cultivated in these little gardens, and occasionally the Rose-apple and the Cachu-nut, the Pappaya, and invariably as plentiful a supply of Plantains as they find it prudent to raise without inviting the visits of the wild elephants, with whom they are especial favourites.

[Footnote 1: See Vol. II. p. 125.]

These, and the Bilimbi and Guava, the latter of which is naturalised in the jungle around every cottage, are almost the only fruits of the country; but the Pine-apple, the Mango, the Avocado-pear, the Custard-apple, the Rambutan (Nephelium lappaceum), the Fig, the Granadilla, and a number of other exotics, are successfully reared in the gardens of the wealthier inhabitants of the towns and villages; and within the last few years the peerless Mangustin of Malacca, the delicacy of which we can imagine to resemble that of perfumed snow, has been successfully cultivated in the gardens of Caltura and Colombo.

With the exception of the orange, the fruits of Ceylon have one deficiency, common, I apprehend, to all tropical countries. They are wanting in that piquancy which in northern climates is attributable to the exquisite perfection in which the sweet and aromatic flavours are blended with the acidulous. Either the acid is so ascendant as to be repulsive to the European palate, or the saccharine so preponderates as to render Singhalese fruit cloying and distasteful.

Still, all other defects are compensated by the coolness which pervades them; and, under the exhaustion of a blazing sun, no more exquisite physical enjoyment can be imagined than the chill and fragrant flesh of the pine-apple, or the abundant juice of the mango, which, when freshly pulled, feels as cool as iced water. But the fruit must be eaten instantly; even an interval of a few minutes after it has been gathered is sufficient to destroy the charm; for, once severed from the stem, it rapidly acquires the temperature of the surrounding air.

Sufficient admiration has hardly been bestowed upon the marvellous power displayed by the vegetable world in adjusting its own temperature, notwithstanding atmospheric fluctuations,—a faculty in the manifestation of which it appears to present a counterpart to that exhibited by animal oeconomy in regulating its heat. So uniform is the exercise of the latter faculty in man and the higher animals, that there is barely a difference of three degrees between the warmth of the body in the utmost endurable vicissitudes of heat and cold; and in vegetables an equivalent arrangement enables them in winter to keep their temperature somewhat above that of the surrounding air, and in summer to reduce it far below it. It would almost seem as if plants possessed a power of producing cold analogous to that exhibited by animals in producing heat; and of this beneficent arrangement man enjoys the benefit in the luxurious coolness of the fruit which nature lavishes on the tropics.

The peculiar organisation by which this result is obtained is not free from obscurity, but in all probability the means of adjusting the temperature of plants is simply dependent on evaporation. As regards the power possessed by vegetables of generating heat, although it has been demonstrated to exist, it is in so trifling a degree as to be almost inappreciable, except at the period of germination, when it probably arises from the consumption of oxygen in generating the carbonic acid gas which is then evolved. The faculty of retaining this warmth at night and at other times may, therefore, be referable mainly to the closing of the pores, and the consequent check of evaporation.

On the other hand, the faculty of maintaining a temperature below that of the surrounding air, can only be accounted for by referring it to the mechanical process of imbibing a continuous supply of fresh moisture from the soil, the active transpiration of which imparts coolness to every portion of the tree and its fruit. It requires this combined operation to produce the desired result; and the extent to which evaporation can bring down the temperature of the moisture received by absorption, may be inferred from the fact that Dr. Hooker, when in the valley of the Ganges, found the fresh milky juice of the Mudar (calotropis) to be but 72 deg., whilst the damp sand in the bed of the river where it grew was from 90 deg. to 104 deg.

Even in temperate climates this phenomenon is calculated to excite admiration; but it is still more striking to find the like effect rather increased than diminished in the tropics, where one would suppose that the juices, especially of a small and delicate plant, before they could be cooled by evaporation, would be liable to be heated by the blazing sun.

A difficulty would also seem to present itself in the instance of fruit, whose juices, having to undergo a chemical change, their circulation would be conjectured to be slower; and in the instance of those with hard skins, such as the pomegranate, or with a tough leathery coating, like the mango, the evaporation might be imagined to be less than in those of a soft and spongy texture. But all share alike in the general coolness of the plant, so long as circulation supplies fluid for evaporation; and the moment this resource is cut off by the separation of the fruit from the tree, the supply of moisture failing, the process of refrigeration is arrested, and the charm of agreeable freshness gone.

It only remains to notice the aquatic plants, which are found in greater profusion in the northern and eastern provinces than in any other districts of the island, owing to the innumerable tanks and neglected watercourses which cover the whole surface of this once productive province, but which now only harbour the alligator, or satisfy the thirst of the deer and the elephant.

[Footnote 1: See on this subject LINDLEY'S Introduction to Botany, vol. ii. book ii. ch. viii. p. 215.

CARPENTER, Animal Physiology, ch. ix. s. 407. CARPENTER'S Vegetable Physiology, ch. xi. s. 407, Lond. 1848.]

The chief ornaments of these neglected sheets of water are the large red and white Lotus[1], whose flowers may be seen from a great distance reposing on their broad green leaves. In China and some parts of India the black seeds of these plants, which are not unlike little acorns in shape, are served at table in place of almonds, which they are said to resemble, but with a superior delicacy of flavour. At some of the tanks where the lotus grows in profusion in Ceylon, I tasted the seeds enclosed in the torus of the flowers, and found them white and delicately-flavoured, not unlike the small kernel of the pine cone of the Apennines. This red lotus of the island appears to be the one that Herodotus describes as abounding in the Nile in his time, but which is now extinct; with a flower resembling a rose, and a fruit in shape like a wasp's nest, and containing seeds of the size of an olive stone, and of an agreeable flavour.[2] But it has clearly no identity with those which he describes as the food of the Lotophagi of Africa, of the size of the mastic[3], sweet as a date, and capable of being made into wine.

[Footnote 1: Nelumbium speciosum.]

[Footnote 2: Herodotus, b. ii. s. 92.]

[Footnote 3: The words are "[Greek: Esti megathos hoson te tes schinou]" (Herod. b. iv. s. 177); and as [Greek: schinos] means also a squill or a sea-onion, the fruit above referred to, as the food of the Lotophagi, must have been of infinitely larger size and in every way different from the lotus of the Nile, described in the 2nd book, as well as from the lotus in the East. Lindley records the conjecture that the article referred to by Herodotus was the nabk, the berry of the lote-bush (Zizyphus lotus), which the Arabs of Barbary still eat. (Vegetable Kingdom, p. 582.)]

One species of the water lily, the Nymphaea rubra, with small red flowers, and of great beauty, is common in the ponds near Jaffna and in the Wanny; and I found in the fosse, near the fort of Moeletivoe, the beautiful blue lotus, N. stellata, with lilac petals, approaching to purple in the centre, which had not previously been supposed to be a native of the island.

Another very interesting aquatic plant, which was discovered by Dr. Gardner in the tanks north of Trincomalie, is the Desmanthus natans, with highly sensitive leaves floating on the surface of the water. It is borne aloft by masses of a spongy cellular substance, which occur at intervals along its stem and branches, but the roots never touch the bottom, absorbing nourishment whilst floating at liberty, and only found in contact with the ground after the subsidence of water in the tanks.[1]

[Footnote 1: A species of Utricularia, with yellow flowers (U. stellaris), is a common water-plant in the still lakes near the fort of Colombo, where an opportunity is afforded of observing the extraordinary provision of nature for its reproduction. There are small appendages attached to the roots, which become distended with air, and thus carry the plant aloft to the surface, during the cool season. Here it floats till the operation of flowering is over, when the vesicles burst, and by its own weight it returns to the bottom of the lake to ripen its seeds and deposit them in the soil; after which the air vessels again fill, and again it re-ascends to undergo the same process of fecundation.]



PART II.

ZOOLOGY.



CHAPTER I.

MAMMALIA.

With the exception of the Mammalia and the Birds, the fauna of Ceylon has, up to the present, failed to receive that systematic attention to which its richness and variety so amply entitle it. The Singhalese themselves, habitually indolent and singularly unobservant of nature in her operations, are at the same time restrained from the study of natural history by tenets of their religion which forbid the taking of life under any circumstances. From the nature of their avocations, the majority of the European residents engaged in planting and commerce, are discouraged from gratifying this taste; and it is to be regretted that the civil servants of the government, whose position and duties would have afforded them influence and extended opportunity for successful investigation, have never seen the importance of encouraging such studies.

The first effective impulse to the cultivation of natural science in Ceylon, was communicated by Dr. Davy when connected with the medical staff of the army from 1816 to 1820, and his example stimulated some of the assistant surgeons of Her Majesty's forces to make collections in illustration of the productions of the colony. Of the late Dr. Kinnis was one of the most energetic and successful. He was seconded by Dr. Templeton of the Royal Artillery, who engaged assiduously in the investigation of various orders, and commenced an interchange of specimens with Mr. Blyth[1], the distinguished naturalist and curator of the Calcutta Museum.

[Footnote 1: Journ. Asiat. Soc. Bengal, vol. xv. p. 280, 314.]

The birds and rarer vertebrata of the island were thus compared with their peninsular congeners, and a tolerable knowledge of those belonging to the island, so far as regards the higher classes of animals, has been the result. The example so set has been perseveringly followed by Mr. E.L. Layard and Dr. Kelaart, and infinite credit is due to Mr. Blyth for the zealous and untiring energy with which he has devoted his attention and leisure to the identification of the various interesting species forwarded from Ceylon, and to their description in the Calcutta Journal. To him, and to the gentleman I have named, we are mainly indebted, for whatever accurate knowledge we now possess of the zoology of the colony.

The mammalia, birds, and reptiles received their first scientific description in an able work published recently by Dr. Kelaart of the army medical staff[1], which is by far the most valuable that has yet appeared on the Singhalese fauna. Co-operating with him, Mr. Layard has supplied a fund of information especially in ornithology and conchology. The zoophytes and crustacea have been investigated by Professor Harvey, who visited Ceylon for that purpose in 1852, and by Professor Schmarda, of the University of Prague, who was lately sent there for a similar object. From the united labours of these gentlemen and others interested in the same pursuits, we may hope at an early day to obtain such a knowledge of the zoology of Ceylon, as may to some extent compensate for the long indifference of the government officers.

[Footnote 1: Prodromus Faunae Zeylanicae; being Contributions to the Zoology of Ceylon, by F. KELAART, Esq., M.D., F.L.S., &c. &c. 2 vols. Colombo and London, 1852. Mr. DAVY, of the Medical Staff; brother to Sir Humphry, published in 1821 his Account of the Interior of Ceylon and its Inhabitants, which contains the earliest notices of the natural history of the island, and especially of the Ophidian reptiles.]

I. QUADRUMANA. 1 Monkeys.—To a stranger in the tropics, among the most attractive creatures in the forests are the troops of monkeys, which career in ceaseless chase among the loftiest trees. In Ceylon there are five species, four of which belong to one group, the Wanderoos, and the other is the little graceful grimacing rilawa[1], which is the universal pet and favourite, of both natives and Europeans.

[Footnote 1: Macacus pileatus, Shaw and Desmmarest. The "bonneted Macaque" is common in the south and west; and a spectacled monkey is said to inhabit the low country near to Bintenne; but I have never seen one brought thence. A paper by Dr. TEMPLETON in the Mag. Nat. Hist. n.s. xiv. p. 361, contains some interesting facts relative to the Rilawa of Ceylon.]

KNOX, in his captivating account of the island, gives an accurate description of both; the Rilawas, with "no beards, white faces, and long hair on the top of their heads, which parteth and hangeth down like a man's, and which do a deal of mischief to the corn, and are so impudent that they will come into their gardens, and eat such fruit as grows there. And the Wanderoos, some as large as our English Spaniel dogs, of a darkish grey colour, and black faces with great white beards round from ear to ear, which makes them shew just like old men. This sort does but little mischief, keeping in the woods, eating only leaves and buds of trees, but when they are catched they will eat anything."[1]

[Footnote 1: KNOX, Historical Relation of Ceylon, an Island in the East Indies.—P. i. ch. vi. p. 25. Fol. Lond. 1681.]

KNOX, whose experience was confined almost exclusively to the hill country around Kandy, spoke in all probability of one large and comparatively powerful species, Presbytes ursinus, which inhabits the lofty forests, and which, as well as another of the same group, P. Thersites, was, till recently, unknown to European naturalists. The Singhalese word Ouanderu has a generic sense, and being in every respect the equivalent for our own term of "monkey," it necessarily comprehends the low country species, as well as those which inhabit other parts of the island. And, in point of fact, in the island there are no less than four animals, each of which is entitled to the name of "wanderoo."[1]

[Footnote 1: Down to a very late period, a large and somewhat repulsive-looking monkey, common to the Malabar coast, the Silenus veter, Linn., was, from the circumstance of his possessing a "great white beard," incorrectly assumed to be the "wanderoo" of Ceylon, described by KNOX; and under that usurped name it has figured in every author from Buffon to the present time. Specimens of the true Singhalese species were, however, received in Europe; but in the absence of information in this country as to their actual habitat, they were described, first by Zimmerman, on the continent, under the name of Leucoprymnus cephalopterus, and subsequently by Mr. E. Bennett, under that of Semnopithecus Nestor (Proc. Zool. Soc. pt. i. p. 67: 1833); the generic and specific characters being on this occasion most carefully pointed out by that eminent naturalist. Eleven years later Dr. Templeton forwarded to the Zoological Society a description, accompanied by drawings, of the wanderoo of the western maritime districts of Ceylon, and noticed the fact that the wanderoo of authors (S. veter) was not to be found in the island except as an introduced species in the custody of the Arab horse-dealers, who visit the port of Colombo at stated periods. Mr. Waterhouse, at the meeting (Proc. Zool. Soc. p. 1: 1844) at which this communication was read, recognised the identity of the subject of Dr. Templeton's description with that already laid before them by Mr. Bennett; and from this period the species in question was believed to truly represent the wanderoo of Knox. The later discovery, however, of the P. ursinus by Dr. Kelaart, in the mountains amongst which we are assured that Knox spent so many years of captivity, reopens the question, but at the same time appears to me to clearly demonstrate that in this latter we have in reality the animal to which his narrative refers.]

Each separate species has appropriated to itself a different district of the wooded country, and seldom encroaches on the domain of its neighbours.

1. Of the four species found in Ceylon, the most numerous in the island, and the one best known in Europe, is the Wanderoo of the low country, the P. cephalopterus of Zimmerman.[1] It is an active and intelligent creature, not much larger than the common bonneted Macaque, and far from being so mischievous as others of the monkeys in the island. In captivity it is remarkable for the gravity of its demeanour and for an air of melancholy in its expression and movements, which is completely in character with its snowy beard and venerable aspect. Its disposition is gentle and confiding, it is in the highest degree sensible of kindness, and eager for endearing attentions, uttering a low plaintive cry when its sympathies are excited. It is particularly cleanly in its habits when domesticated, and spends much of its time in trimming its fur, and carefully divesting its hair of particles of dust.

[Footnote 1: Leucoprymnus Nestor, Bennett.]

Although common in the southern and western provinces, it is never found at a higher elevation than 1300 feet.

When observed in their native wilds, a party of twenty or thirty of these creatures is generally busily engaged in the search for berries and buds. They are seldom to be seen on the ground, and then only when they have descended to recover seeds or fruit that have fallen at the foot of their favourite trees. In their alarm, when disturbed, their leaps are prodigious; but generally speaking, their progress is made not so much by leaping as by swinging from branch to branch, using their powerful arms alternately; and when baffled by distance, flinging themselves obliquely so as to catch the lower boughs of an opposite tree, the momentum acquired by their descent being sufficient to cause a rebound, that carries them again upwards, till they can grasp a higher branch; and thus continue their headlong flight. In these perilous achievements, wonder is excited less by the surpassing agility of these little creatures, frequently encumbered as they are by their young, which cling to them in their career, than by the quickness of their eye and the unerring accuracy with which they seem almost to calculate the angle at which a descent would enable them to cover a given distance, and the recoil to elevate themselves again to a higher altitude.

2. The low country Wanderoo is replaced in the hills by the larger species, P. ursinus, which inhabits the mountain zone. The natives, who designate the latter the Maha or Great Wanderoo, to distinguish it from the Kaloo, or black one, with which they are familiar, describe it as much wilder and more powerful than its congener of the lowland forests. It is rarely seen by Europeans, this portion of the country having till very recently been but partially opened; and even now it is difficult to observe its habits, as it seldom approaches the few roads which wind through these deep solitudes. It was first captured by Dr. Kelaart in the woods near Neuera-ellia, and from its peculiar appearance it has been named P. ursinus by Mr. Blyth.[1]

[Footnote 1: Mr. Blyth quotes as authority for this trivial name a passage from MAJOR FORBES' Eleven Years in Ceylon; and I can vouch for the graphic accuracy of the remark.—"A species of very large monkey, that passed some distance before me, when resting on all fours, looked so like a Ceylon bear, that I nearly took him for one."]

3. The P. Thersites, which is chiefly distinguished from the others by wanting the head tuft, is so rare that it was for some time doubtful whether the single specimen procured by Dr. Templeton from Neuera-kalawa, west of Trincomalie, and on which Mr. Blyth conferred this new name, was in reality native; but the occurrence of a second, since identified by Dr. Kelaart, has established its existence as a separate species.

Like the common wanderoo, this one was partial to fresh vegetables, plantains, and fruit; but he ate freely boiled rice, beans, and gram. He was fond of being noticed and petted, stretching out his limbs in succession to be scratched, drawing himself up so that his ribs might be reached by the finger, and closing his eyes during the operation, evincing his satisfaction by grimaces irresistibly ludicrous.

4. The P. Priamus inhabits the northern and eastern provinces, and the wooded hills which occur in these portions of the island. In appearance it differs both in size and in colour from the common wanderoo, being larger and more inclining to grey; and in habits it is much less reserved. At Jaffna, and in other parts of the island where the population is comparatively numerous, these monkeys become so familiarised with the presence of man as to exhibit the utmost daring and indifference. A flock of them will take possession of a Palmyra palm; and so effectually can they crouch and conceal themselves among the leaves that, on the slightest alarm, the whole party becomes invisible in an instant. The presence of a dog, however, excites such an irrepressible curiosity that, in order to watch his movements, they never fail to betray themselves. They may be seen frequently congregated on the roof of a native hut; and, some years ago, the child of a European clergyman stationed at Tillipalli having been left on the ground by the nurse, was so teased and bitten by them as to cause its death.

The Singhalese have the impression that the remains of a monkey are never found in the forest; a belief which they have embodied in the proverb that "he who has seen a white crow, the nest of a paddy bird, a straight coco-nut tree, or a dead monkey, is certain to live for ever." This piece of folk-lore has evidently reached Ceylon from India, where it is believed that persons dwelling on the spot where a hanuman monkey, S. entellus, has been killed, will die, and that even its bones are unlucky, and that no house erected where they are hid under ground can prosper. Hence when a house is to be built, it is one of the employments of the Jyotish philosophers to ascertain by their science that none such are concealed; and Buchanan observes that "it is, perhaps, owing to this fear of ill-luck that no native will acknowledge his having seen a dead hanuman."[1]

[Footnote 1: BUCHANAN'S Survey of Bhagulpoor, p. 142. At Gibraltar it is believed that the body of a dead monkey is never found on the rock.]

The only other quadrumanous animal found in Ceylon is the little loris[1], which, from its sluggish movements, nocturnal habits, and consequent inaction during the day, has acquired the name of the "Ceylon Sloth." There are two varieties in the island; one of the ordinary fulvous brown, and another larger, whose fur is entirely black. A specimen of the former was sent to me from Chilaw, on the western coast, and lived for some time at Colombo, feeding on rice, fruit, and vegetables. It was partial to ants and other insects, and always eager for milk or the bone of a fowl. The naturally slow motion of its limbs enables the loris to approach its prey so stealthily that it seizes birds before they can be alarmed by its presence. The natives assert that it has been known to strangle the pea-fowl at night, and feast on the brain. During the day the one which I kept was usually asleep in the strange position represented below; its perch firmly grasped with all hands, its back curved into a ball of soft fur, and its head hidden deep between its legs. The singularly-large and intense eyes of the loris have attracted the attention of the Singhalese, who capture the creature for the purpose of extracting them as charms and love-potions, and this they are said to effect by holding the little animal to the fire till its eyeballs burst. Its Tamil name is theivangu, or "thin-bodied;" and hence a deformed child or an emaciated person has acquired in the Tamil districts the same epithet. The light-coloured variety of the loris in Ceylon has a spot on its forehead, somewhat resembling the namam, or mark worn by the worshippers of Vishnu; and, from this peculiarity, it is distinguished as the Nama-theivangu.[2]

[Footnote 1: Loris gracilis, Geoff.]

[Footnote 2: There is an interesting notice of the loris of Ceylon by Dr. TEMPLETON, in the Mag. Nat. Hist. 1844, ch. xiv. p. 362.]



II. CHEIROPTERA. Bats.—The multitude of bats is one of the features of the evening landscape; they abound in every cave and subterranean passage, in the tunnels on the highways, in the galleries of the fortifications, in the roofs of the bungalows, and the ruins of every temple and building. At sunset they are seen issuing from their diurnal retreats to roam through the twilight in search of crepuscular insects, and as night approaches and the lights in the rooms attract the night-flying lepidoptera, the bats sweep round the dinner-table and carry off their tiny prey within the glitter of the lamps. Including the frugivorous section about sixteen species have been identified in Ceylon, and of these, two varieties are peculiar to the island. The colours of some of them are as brilliant as the plumage of a bird, bright yellow, deep orange, and a rich ferruginous brown inclining to red.[1] The Roussette[2] of Ceylon (the "Flying-fox," as it is usually called by Europeans) measures from three to four feet from point to point of its extended wings, and some of them have been seen wanting but a few inches of five feet in the alar expanse. These sombre-looking creatures feed chiefly on ripe fruits, the guava, the plantain, and the rose-apple, and are abundant in all the maritime districts, especially at the season when the silk-cotton tree, the pulun-imbul,[3] is putting forth its flower-buds, of which they are singularly fond. By day they suspend themselves from the highest branches, hanging by the claws of the hind legs, pressing the chin against the breast, and using the closed membrane attached to the forearms as a mantle to envelope the head. At sunset launching into the air, they hover with a murmuring sound occasioned by the beating of their broad membranous wings, around the fruit trees, on which they feed till morning, when they resume their pensile attitude as before. They are strongly attracted to the coco-nut trees during the period when toddy is drawn for distillation, and exhibit, it is said, at such times symptoms resembling intoxication.[4]

[Footnote 1: Rhinolophus affinis? var. rubidus, Kelaart. Hipposideros murinus, var. fulvus, Kelaart. Hipposideros speoris, var. aureus, Kelaart. Kerivoula picta, Pallas. Scotophilus Heathii, Horsf.]

[Footnote 2: Pteropus Edwardsii, Geoff.]

[Footnote 3: Eriodendron orientale, Stead.]

[Footnote 4: Mr. THWAITES, of the Royal Botanic Garden, at Kandy, in a recent letter, 19th Dec. 1858, gives the following description of a periodical visit of the pteropus to an avenue of fig-trees:—"You would be much interested now in observing a colony of the pteropus bat, which has established itself for a season on some trees within sight of my bungalow. They came about the same time last year, and, after staying a few weeks, disappeared: I suppose they had demolished all the available food in the neighbourhood. They are now busy of an evening eating the figs of Ficus elastica, of which we have a long avenue in the grounds, as I dare say you remember.

"These bats take possession during the day of particular trees, upon which they hang like so much ripe fruit, but they take it into their heads to have some exercise every morning between the hours of 9 and 11, during which they are wheeling about in the air by the hundred, seemingly enjoying the sunshine and warmth. They then return to their fevourite tree, and remain quiet until the evening, when they move off towards their feeding ground. There is a great chattering and screaming amongst them before they can get agreeably settled in their places after their morning exercise; quarrelling, I suppose, for the most comfortable spots to hang on by during the rest of the day. The trees they take possession of become nearly stripped of leaves; and it is a curious sight to see them in such immense numbers. I do not allow them to be disturbed."]

The flying-fox is killed by the natives for the sake of its flesh, which I have been told, by a gentleman who has eaten it, resembles that of the hare.[1]

[Footnote 1: In Western India the native Portuguese eat the flying-fox, and pronounce it delicate, and far from disagreeable in flavour.]

There are several varieties (some of them peculiar to the island) of the horse-shoe-headed Rhinolophus, with the strange leaf-like appendage erected on the extremity of the nose. It has been suggested that bats, though nocturnal, are deficient in that keen vision characteristic of animals which take their prey at night. I doubt whether this conjecture be well founded; but at least it would seem that in their peculiar oeconomy some additional power is required to supplement that of vision, as in insects that of touch is superadded, in the most sensitive development, to that of sight. Hence, it is possible that the extended screen stretched at the back of their nostrils may be intended by nature to facilitate the collection and conduction of odours, as the vast development of the shell of the ear in the same family is designed to assist in the collection of sounds—and thus to reinforce their vision when in pursuit of their prey at twilight by the superior sensitiveness of the organs of hearing and smell, as they are already remarkable for that marvellous sense of touch which enables them, even when deprived of sight, to direct their flight with security, by means of the delicate nerves of the wing. One tiny little bat, not much larger than the humble bee[1], and of a glossy black colour, is sometimes to be seen about Colombo. It is so familiar and gentle that it will alight on the cloth during dinner, and manifests so little alarm that it seldom makes any effort to escape before a wine glass can be inverted to secure it.[2]