BOTANISING IN MADAGASCAR 129 



journey, you sit down in a hut to change the sheets of paper 

 containing the specimens, the villagers will be sure to come 

 and, standing round in a circle, gaze at you in mute astonish- 

 ment turning over the plants so well known to them. After 

 a few minutes' silent gaze, there will perhaps be a sudden 

 outburst of amused laughter, or it may be a little whispering, 

 which, if it were audible, would be something to this effect : 

 4 Whatever in the world is the man doing ? ' or, ' What strange 

 creatures these white men are ! ' 



" Some of the people doubtless think that you are a kind of 

 sorcerer. For these dried plants whatever can you do with 

 them ? You cannot eat them. You cannot make them into broth. 

 You cannot plant them, for they are dead. You cannot form 

 them in bouquets or wreaths, for they are brown and withered. 

 Is it surprising, then, if some of the natives think that you are 

 dabbling in the black art, and that your plants, in the shape of 

 some strange and mysterious decoction, are to supply, it may be, 

 a potent rain-medicine, or a love-philtre, or a disease-preventing 

 physic ? For among the natives themselves there are many 

 herbal quacks, who, for a consideration, are able, not only to 

 prescribe for the cure, and even prevention, of disease, but also 

 to furnish charms against fire and tempest, locusts or lightning, 

 leprosy or lunacy, ghosts, crocodiles, or witches. The explana- 

 tion which I have most frequently heard given, however, by 

 the more intelligent of the natives as to the use of the dried 

 plants is that the leaves are intended to be employed for 

 patterns in weaving. 



" It is not, then, the natives that you have to fear in regard 

 to your collections of plants ; it is the weather, it is those heavy 

 showers that, unless protected with extreme care by waterproof 

 coverings, succeed in soaking your specimens and your drying 

 paper, so that you have occasionally to spend half the night in 

 some dirty hovel in doing what you can, by the aid of a large 

 fire, to save your collection from destruction. Still all the 

 difficulties aiid discomforts are far more than outweighed by 

 the pleasure you gain in the exercise, a pleasure which is en- 

 hanced by the consciousness that you are probably the first that 

 has ever plucked the flowers from Nature's bosom in that 

 particular locality, and that a large number of the specimens 

 will probably prove to be new to science." 



