The Present Condition of the Indian Archipelago. 353 



their boundless shade as unconscious of the presence of man, and as 

 unwitting of his dominion as tliey were thousands of years ago, 

 when he did not dream that the world held such lands and such 

 ci'eatures. 



When we j^ass from the open sea of the Archipelago into the 

 deep shade of its mountain-forests, we have realised all that, in 

 Europe, our fancies ever pictured of the wildness and beauty of prime- 

 val nature. Trees of gigantic forms and exuberant foliage rise on 

 every side : each species shooting up its trunk to its utmost measure 

 of development, and striving, as it seems, to escape from the dense 

 crowd. Others, as if no room were left for them to grow in the or- 

 dinary way, emulate the shapes and motions of serpents, enwrap 

 their less pliant neighbours in their folds, twine their branches into 

 one connected canopy, or hang down, — here, loose and swaying in the 

 air, or in festoons from tree to tree, — and there, stiff and i-ooted, like 

 the yards which support the mast of a ship. No sooner has decay 

 diminished the green array of a branch, than its place is supplied by 

 epiphites, chiefly fragrant orchidacese, of singular and beautiful 

 forms. While the eye in vain seeks to familiarise itself with the 

 exuberance and diversity of the forest vegetation, the ear drinks in 

 the sounds of life which break the silence and deepen the solitude. 

 Of these, while the interrupted notes of birds, loud or low, rapid or 

 long-drawn, cheerful or plaintive, and ranging over a greater or less 

 musical compass, are the most pleasing, the most constant are those 

 of insects, which sometimes rise into a shrill and deafening clangour ; 

 and the most impressive, and those which bring out all the wildness 

 and loneliness of the scene, are the prolonged complaining cries of 

 the unkas, which rise, loud and more loud, till the twilight air is 

 filled with the clear, powerful, and melancholy sounds. As we pe- 

 netrate deeper into the forest, its animals, — few at any one place, — are 

 soon seen to be, in reality, numerous and varied. Green and harm- 

 less snakes hang like tender branches. Others of deeper and 

 mingled colours, but less innocuous, lie coiled up, or, disturbed by 

 the human intruder, assume an angry and dangerous look, but 

 glide out of sight. Insects in their shapes and hues imitate leaves, 

 twigs, and flowers. Monkeys, of all sizes and colours, spring from 

 branch to branch, or, in long trains, rapidly steal up the trunks. 

 Deer, and amongst them the graceful palandoh, no bigger than a 

 hare, and celebrated in Malayan poetry, on our approach fly startled 

 from the pools which they and the wild hog most frequent. Lively 

 squirrels, of different species, are everywhere mot with. Amongst 

 a great variety of other remarkable animals which range the 

 forests, we may, according to our locality, encounter herds of 

 elephants, the rhinoceros, tigers, the tapir, the babirusa, the 

 orangutan, the sloth ; and, of the winged tribes, the gorgeously 

 beautiful birds of paradise, the loris, the peacock, and the argiis 

 pheasant. The mangrove rivers and creeks arc haunted by huge 



VOL. XLIV. NO. LXXXVIir. — AriUL 184:8. z 



