34 
A NATURALIST ON THE PROWL. 
eaten as in Eden, without knife and fork, or plate and 
spoon, plucked from the tree with the bloom still on. Un- 
fortunately the Corrinda bush and I have these pleasant 
interviews less often than we ought. The wretched people 
on this coast feed on boiled rice, and the second necessity 
of life to them is some strong vegetable acid, or corrosive 
pickle, which will spur the insipid mess down a reluctant 
throat. They scour the country for tamarinds, green 
mangoes and Cocum , or wild mangosteen, a fruit so fero- 
ciously tart that when once I ate it, many years ago, I had 
to send my face to the dhobie to get my crumpled features 
ironed out. So they will not let the Corrinda berry ripen, 
but strip the bushes while it is yet green and sour and 
convertible into pickle. But some escape for me. 
Another tasty fruit which is ripening now is the Char , 
or Charolee , a little purplish brown berry with a hard stone. 
One morning last week I found a fine Char tree lying 
across the road ; it had just been cut down. I could 
not guess the object of such wanton destruction, but my 
puttiwalla explained it at once. The upper branches of 
the tree were full of fruit, and the lower branches were 
full of red ants. Some koonbee had coveted the fruit, 
but dared not face the ants ; so out came the koita and 
