152 The Field Naturalist 's Quarterly May 



road out here, and we wonder which is worse, — the part 

 paved with long rough granite slabs, or the path alongside 

 deep in sand : not a tree within miles, only here and there 

 a patch of pandanus and prickly pear and the inevitable 

 horseshoe-shaped grave. These latter disfigure the country 

 all over, as fowls and dogs spoil a garden with scratching. 

 Farther on we pass one of the usual style of wayside joss- 

 houses, with a fairly large banyan in front and a little 

 scrubby growth at the back. These joss places seem to 

 have preserved almost the only large trees that are left, 

 except the little bit of wood at the back of the villages, 

 amongst which may be found a few fine old banyans ; most 

 of these, too, are joss trees, with the customary little pots, 

 jugs, and joss-sticks beneath them, the trunks bedaubed 

 with red papers. 



Our route now lies through a valley bright with patches 

 of vivid green padi, just sown, other fields being in process 

 of reaping and ploughing. The path is only a narrow strip 

 about a foot wide, with mud-and-water on either side, whilst 

 the heat is great over these rice-fields ; but we are free from 

 mosquitos, which avoid the sun. Now and again we disturb 

 a white Heron (all species of herons are known to foreigners 

 here as padi-birds or storks), and over one field some swifts 

 (Cypsehis pacificus) are flying unusually low. These paths 

 through the rice-fields are favourite places for snakes to 

 bask, but nearly all are small and harmless species. 



We are nearing a big walled village : its pawn-shops, the 

 tall rectangular buildings seen in the sketch, have been 

 visible a long time. These pawn-shops or storehouses are 

 the places where the coolie class deposit their winter 

 clothing during the summer, and are favourite objects of 

 attack to bands of native robbers. A drove of small Chinese 

 cattle and water-buffaloes passes with a small boy in charge, 

 and it is interesting to see how little notice the former 

 animals take of strangers, and how the buffaloes stare and 

 start aside and sniff the air, seeming much inclined to 

 charge, as indeed they sometimes will. 



Here we rest in the shade of an old banyan near a gate 

 in the village wall, and buy some green "coolie" oranges 

 from a fruit-stall, which are better than asking for water, 



