Recollects the ravine, for he fell on his head with the end of a
dead stick in his stomach just as he got to the bottom; he
forgets every other part of his route, simply having an idea that
he went down a great many ravines and up a number of hills, and
turned to the right and left several times. He gives it up; he
finds himself "lost," and, if he is sensible, he will sit down
and wait till some one comes to look for him, when he will start
with joy at the glad sound of the horn. But should he attempt to
find his way alone through those pathless jungles, he will only
increase his distance from the right course.
One great peculiarity in Newera Ellia is the comparative freedom
from poisonous vermin. There are three varieties of snakes, only
one of which is hurtful, and all are very minute. The venomous
species is the "carrawellé," whose bite is generally fatal; but
this snake is not often met with. There are no ticks, nor bugs,
nor leeches, nor scorpions, nor white ants, nor wasps, nor
mosquitoes; in fact, there is nothing venomous except the snake
alluded to, and a small species of centipede. Fleas there are
certainly - indeed, a fair sprinkling of fleas; but they are not
troublesome, except in houses which are unoccupied during a
portion of the year. This is a great peculiarity of a Ceylon
flea - he is a great colonist; and should a house be untenanted
for a few months, so sure will it swarm with these "settlers."
Even a grass hut built for a night's bivouac in the jungle,
without a flea in the neighborhood, will literally swarm with
them if deserted for a couple of months. Fleas have a great
fancy for settling upon anything white; thus a person with white
trowsers will be blackened with them, while a man in darker
colors will be comparatively free. I at first supposed that they
appeared in larger numbers on the white ground because they were
more easily distinguished; but I tried the experiment of putting
a sheet of writing-paper and a piece of brown talipot leaf in the
midst of fleas; the paper was covered with them, while only two
or three were on the talipot.
The bite of the small species of centipede alluded to is not very
severe, being about equivalent to a wasp's sting. I have been
bitten myself, and I have seen another person suffering from the
bite, which was ludicrous enough.
The sufferer was Corporal Phinn, of H.M. Fifteenth Regiment. At
that time he was one of Lieutenant de Montenach's servants, and
accompanied his master on a hunting-trip to the Horton Plains.
Now Phinn was of course an Irishman; an excellent fellow, a dead
hand at tramping a bog and killing a snipe, but (without the
slightest intention of impugning his veracity) Phinn's ideality
was largely developed. He was never by himself for five minutes
in the jungle without having seen something wonderful before his
return; this he was sure to relate in a rich brogue with great
facetiousness.
However, we had just finished dinner one night, and Phinn had
then taken his master's vacant place (there being only one room)
to commence his own meal, when up he jumped like a madman,
spluttering the food out of his mouth, and shouting and skipping
about the room with both hands clutched tightly to the hinder
part of his inexpressibles. "Oh, by Jasus! help, sir, help! I've
a reptile or some divil up my breeches! Oh! bad luck to him, he's
biting me! Oh! oh! it's sure a sarpint that's stinging me! quick,
sir, or he'll be the death o' me!"
Phinn was frantic, and upon lowering his inexpressibles we found
the centipede about four inches long which had bitten him. A
little brandy rubbed on the part soon relieved the pain.
CHAPTER VIII. Observations on Nature in the Tropics - The Dung
Beetle - The Mason-fly - Spiders - Luminous Insects - Efforts of
a Naturalist - Dogs Worried by Leeches - Tropical Diseases -
Malaria - Causes of Infection - Disappearance of the "Mina" -
Poisonous Water - Well-digging Elephants.
How little can the inhabitant of a cold or temperate climate
appreciate the vast amount of "life" in a tropical country. The
combined action of light, heat and moisture calls into existence
myriads of creeping things, the offspring of the decay of
vegetation. "Life" appears to emanate from "death" - the
destruction of one material seems to multify the existence of
another - the whole surface of the earth seems busied in one vast
system of giving birth.
An animal dies - a solitary beast - and before his unit life has
vanished for one week, bow many millions of living creatures owe
their birth to his death? What countless swarms of insects have
risen from that one carcase! - creatures which never could have
been brought into existence were it not for the presence of one
dead body which has received and hatched the deposited eggs of
millions that otherwise would have remained unvivified.
Not a tree falls, not a withered flower droops to the ground, not
a fruit drops from the exhausted bough, but it is instantly
attacked by the class of insect prepared by Nature for its
destruction. The white ant scans a lofty tree whose iron-like
timber and giant stem would seem to mock at his puny efforts; but
it is rotten at the core and not a leaf adorns its branches, and
in less than a year it will have fallen to the earth a mere
shell; the whole of the wood will have been devoured.
Rottenness of all kinds is soon carried from the face of the land
by the wise arrangements of Nature for preserving the world from
plagues and diseases, which the decaying and unconsumed bodies of
animals and vegetables would otherwise engender.
