There are not many deciduous trees in Imèrina, so the numerous

orchards, chiefly of mango-trees, look fresh and green throughout the

year. But the Cape lilac, which does cast its leaves, is beginning

to put out its bright green fronds; the peach-trees are a mass of

pink blossom, unrelieved as yet by any leaves, and the _sòngosòngo_

(_Euphorbia splendens_), in the hedges is just beginning to show

its brilliant scarlet or pale yellow bracts. Wild flowers are still

scarce, but the lilac flowers of the _sèvabé_ (_Solanum auriculatum_)

bloom all through the year. The golden-orange panicles of the _sèva_

(_Buddleia madagascariensis_), which has a sweetish scent, now

appear. Nature is arousing from the inaction of the cold season, and

the few trees now flowering give promise of the coming spring. And

so, from year to year, every month brings some fresh interest in tree

and flower, in bird and insect, in the employments of the people, and

in the changing aspects of the sky by day and in the starry heavens

by night.

NOTE.—I may add here that of late years, through foreign influence

preceding and following the French occupation, many new trees have

been introduced into Madagascar, which have materially altered the

look of the country in some provinces, especially in the Bétsiléo

district. Millions of trees, chiefly species of eucalyptus, have been

planted, especially along the roadsides, as well as mimosa, blackwood

and _filào_. The beautiful purple bracts of the bougainvillea, and

the large brilliant scarlet ones of the poinsettia, now give a much

brighter appearance to gardens and public places, since they have

been extensively planted in the capital and other large towns, as

well as zinnias, crotons and cannas.

[10] Of late years, since numbers of children attend Government

schools as well as those of the various missions, a considerable

improvement has taken place in children’s clothing. Knickerbockers

and jackets are now the dress of hundreds of boys; but the native

_làmba_ is still largely used, and is almost always part of girls’

dress.

[Sidenote: STARS]

[11] Curiously enough, the Malagasy appear to have given names

only to these two prominent clusters of stars. The Pleiades they

call “_Kòtokèli-miàdi-laona_”—_i.e._ “Little boys fighting over

the rice mortar”; while the three stars of Orion’s belt they call

“_Tèlo-no-ho-réfy_”—_i.e._ “Three make a fathom.” They have no name

for the first-magnitude stars, or for the planets, except for Venus,

as a morning star—viz. “_Fitàrikàndro_”—_i.e._ “Leader of the day.”

CHAPTER X

AT THE FOREST SANATORIUM

By the kind concern of two of the missionary societies working in

Madagascar for the comfort and health of their representatives,

who live in Imèrina, two sanatoriums have been provided for them

away from the capital. One of these is at Ambàtovòry, about fifteen

miles distant to the east, and close to a patch of old forest still

left among the surrounding somewhat bare country; the other is at

Ankèramadìnika, at about double that distance, and is built close to

the edge of the upper belt of forest, that long line of woods which,

as already mentioned, stretches for several hundred miles along the

eastern side of Madagascar. Here, after a year’s strenuous work in

college, or school, or church, or in literary labour, or in something

of them all, it is a pleasant and healthful change to come for two

or three weeks to the quiet and restful influences of the beautiful

woods, with their wealth of vegetable life, and with much to interest

in the animal life of bird and insect.

I ask my readers to accompany me then in a visit to Ankèramadìnika,

and to wander with me in the forest and observe the many curious

and interesting things which we shall find in our walks. The forest

is here about seven or eight miles across, and from the verandah we

can see over the woods to the lower plain of Ankay, and beyond this

to the long line of blue mountains covered by the lower and broader

forest belt. A wonderful sight this plain presents on a winter

morning, when it is filled with a white sea of mist, out of which the

forest and the hills rise like islands, and the feathery masses of

cloud against their sides have exactly the effect of waves breaking

against a shore.

It will be fitting here to say a few words about the flora of

Madagascar, and here I may quote what my late friend, the Rev.

R. Baron, remarked in a paper read before the Linnæan Society in

1888.[12] He says:

“It may now be said that the vegetable productions of the island

have been very extensively explored, and that the majority of the

plants inhabiting it are known to science. The country has been

traversed by botanists in many different directions, its highest

mountains have been ascended, its lakes and marshes crossed, its

forests penetrated, and large collections of plants have been made.

About four thousand one hundred species of plants have now been

named and described, and I think it may be said with certainty

that the great bulk of Madagascarian plants have already been

gathered, so that we have now sufficient data to enable us to draw

a few general conclusions as to the character and distribution of

this very interesting and remarkable flora. Of the four thousand

one hundred indigenous plants at present known in Madagascar,

about three thousand (or three-fourths of the total flora) are,

remarkable to say, only found here. Even of the grasses and rushes,

about two-fifths of each order are peculiar to the island. There

is one natural order confined to Madagascar, the Chlænaceæ; of

ferns more than a third are endemic, and of orchids as much as

five-sixths, facts which are sufficient to give a very marked

individuality to the character of the flora.”

Mr Baron gives the following graphic account of his experiences as a

collector of plants:—

[Sidenote: BOTANISING IN MADAGASCAR]

“Botanising in Madagascar, as those who have travelled in wild

and uncivilised regions in other parts of the world will easily

believe, is a totally different experience from botanising in

England. Your collecting materials are carried by a native, who

may be honest, or not, in which latter case the drying paper will

begin gradually and mysteriously to disappear, and the leather

straps with which the presses are tightened will, one by one, be

quietly appropriated. For a Malagasy bearer has a special weakness

for leather straps, they being largely used for belts, so that

both for the sake of your own comfort and the honesty of the men,

the sooner you dispense with them the better. As for the dried

plants themselves, they are secure from all pilfering; for of

what possible use or value they can be, it puzzles the natives to

conceive. You might leave your collection in a village for a whole

month, and you would find on your return it was still intact.

If, after a day’s 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

astonishment 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: ‘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 explanation 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 and

discomforts are far more than outweighed by the pleasure you gain

in the exercise, a pleasure which is enhanced 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.”

[Sidenote: NESTS OF INSECTS]

Although to anyone merely travelling through it, this upper forest

seems, especially in the cold season, to be singularly deficient in

animal life, yet to those who will carefully observe, as they ramble

through these woods, there are numerous small living creatures well

worth careful study. One cannot pass many yards along a forest path

without noticing here and there a long white bag hanging on the trees

and bushes. These vary in length from about six inches to a foot,

or even eighteen inches, and are a long oval in shape; the upper

part shines with a silky lustre, and the whole would do so, but for

its being filled at the lower part with a mass of dark brown earthy

substance, which soils its purity. On cutting open the upper portion

of the bag, which is tough and strong, it is found to be filled with

a mass of brown caterpillars, about an inch and a half long, all

wriggling about when thus disturbed in their comfortable home. The

dark substance is evidently the droppings of these caterpillars; and

the opening at the lower end, sometimes small holes around it, give

exit and entrance, for generally two or three of the insects are seen

crawling on the outside. It would appear, therefore, that this silken

bag is the nest or home spun by the caterpillars, a common habitation

in which they undergo the next change before becoming perfect

insects. One always sees that the branches near that on which the bag

is suspended are stripped of the leaves, no doubt by its inmates. I

noticed that, a day or two after I had cut open one of these bags,

a thin film of web had been spun over the opening, so as to close

up the entrance I had unceremoniously made into the privacy of the

little community.

[Sidenote: ANTS]

No one can pass through the upper or lower forests without noticing

the much more prominent nests made in the trees by another insect,

a small species of black ant. These nests are often as large as

a football, and are apparently made of cow-dung, or earthy and

vegetable matter, forming a coarse papery substance; they are peopled

by large numbers of ants, and are dark brown in colour. If one is

procured—not an easy matter, for the little inhabitants rush out and

attack the intruder, and dig their jaws into one’s flesh in a way to

make one jump—it will be seen, on cutting open the nest vertically,

that there is a series of thin floors about half-an-inch apart and

supported by pillars. The ants run about frantically, their chief

care being to carry the white eggs and pupæ to a place of safety.

But it will be observed that in the nest there are to be seen a

number of very small but handsome beetles, perhaps in the proportion

of one to a hundred of the ants. What purpose do these entirely

different insects serve in the economy of ant life? It appears that

this is a fact observed in the nests of many other kinds of ants, for

the Rev. J. G. Wood, in his charming book, “Homes without Hands,”

says that above thirty species of beetle are known as inhabiting

ants’ nests. But he can throw no light upon the purpose served by

the presence of the beetles. Besides these large and conspicuous

nests, containing probably thousands of ants, other nests, of all

sizes, from about that of a nut to an orange and upwards, may be

seen: the hamlets, villages, and small towns of the ant world, while

the large nests are the great cities of their commonwealth. The ants

inhabiting these dwellings appear to be all of one species, and

about three-sixteenths of an inch in length. What can these little

creatures live upon?—for they can hardly descend for it to the

ground, from heights of twenty, thirty, and even fifty or sixty, feet.

A very different kind of ants’ nest is seen in the more open and

sunny forest paths (and also in the bare interior country). These

have the form of a low circular mound, from eighteen inches or

more in diameter, and perhaps eight to ten inches high, and have a

large opening at the top—a miniature “crater.” This mound consists

of the fine grains of earth and sand brought up and thrown out by

the little workers in excavating their subterraneous dwelling.

These ants are larger insects than the arboreal species; they are

about three-eighths of an inch long, and seem to exist in great

numbers in their homes, the entrance being like a crowded street,

with passengers going to and fro. They may be met with all round

their nests, often at a considerable distance from them, frequently

tugging along pieces of chewed sugar-cane, or portions of dead

insects, enormous in size compared with themselves. The ants are the

scavengers of the country; no beetle, or worm, or grub, or animal

matter of any kind, can be many minutes on the ground before it is

detected by some ant, which communicates the fact forthwith to its

fellows, and they immediately fall on the spoil, cut it in pieces and

convey it to their stronghold. It is astonishing to see the heavy

loads that two or three ants will stagger along with for the common

weal. Truly, although they are a small folk, they are “exceeding

wise.”

Another species of ant, which does not appear to construct a nest,

but inhabits the crevices and under the bark of trees, is rather

conspicuous from a large tuft or cushion of pale brown velvet-like

hairs on the upper side of the abdomen, and a smaller one on the

thorax. Its eggs and pupæ are carefully hidden away under pieces of

the bark which have become partly detached.

On the top of the Ambàtovòry rock I found another and smaller species

of ant, about an eighth of an inch long. This ant inhabits the dried

flower-stalk of the _vàhona_, a small aloe growing plentifully on

the shallow soil close to rocks. On breaking in two one of these

stalks, the ants and a number of pupæ fell out, long white cases, in

which the dark body of the immature insect could be seen. The little

creatures seemed greatly relieved to be able to gather up these

precious pupæ, and they soon collected them all, and brought them

again into their home. On examining the stalk I could see no entrance

except a minute hole, like a pinprick, at the top, just below where

the head of flowers had blossomed. It seems probable that the ants

find food in the pithy interior of these leaf-stalks.

In passing through the bush or the secondary forest, one frequently

sees the leaves of certain bushes withered and folded up together.

On opening one of such nests, it proves to be the home of a species

of beetle, a very handsome insect, about an inch long, with a long

slender thorax, and of a beautiful metallic-purple colour. Enclosed

in portions of the leaf are small green caterpillars, and in others

are chrysalides. A much smaller beetle is also found in many of

these nests. The edges of the leaves appear as if sewn together at

different places with fine silk.

Although butterflies are scarce in these woods in the cold season,

caterpillars are numerous. Those making a large silken bag have

already been noticed; but there are others which appear to be

just now (in August) in a state of torpor. Here, for instance, is

a cluster of a dozen or so of brown caterpillars, all clinging

closely together around one another on the top of a small twig.

They seem perfectly motionless. Are they hibernating? Here again

is a collection of beautiful little caterpillars, about an inch

long, of lovely pale green and bluish-green colour, with markings of

orange dots along the sides, and four tufts of yellow hairs on head

and tail. These are lying side by side, half-a-dozen together on a

leaf, and also appear perfectly torpid, for they do not move for

several days together. Here again, on a leaf, are about thirty small

caterpillars, about five-eighths of an inch long. These are seen to

be striped with dark lines, like black velvet, with delicate markings

and spots of bright yellow. These insects, like those just mentioned,

are motionless and crowded together, as if for warmth.

[Sidenote: WALKS FULL OF INTEREST]

Walking slowly along, one notices a peculiar marking on a twig; this

on close inspection is seen to be an assemblage of the eggs of some

butterfly or moth, about a hundred of them, arranged in four or five

regular rows, pretty minute globes, light greyish-brown in colour,

with a minute black spot on the top, and hardly one-sixteenth of

an inch in diameter. In bushes and small trees, somewhat unsightly

little bundles of leaves are sometimes very conspicuous. These are

bound together with an irregular mass of web; and cutting one of

them open, it is found to be full of the elytra of small beetles and

the chitinous portions of other insects, as well as leaves, forming

a closely compacted ball. This appears to be the work of a small

spider, which is generally found in some portion of the nest.

There are many pleasant walks in different directions through the

woods, some of them merely woodcutters’ paths, and others broader,

where a palanquin can be taken. One cannot go far, however, without

having to go down steep descents and again having a stiff climb; but

the variety of leafage, the frequent occurrence of some beautiful

flower or bright-coloured berry or fruit, or gay insect makes a walk

full of interest; and when we reach a high point there are extensive

views over the undulating masses of green foliage of very varied

tints around one, and the bare Ankay plain, with the distant lower

forest, twenty or thirty miles away, and fading into the distance

north and south.

Reptiles are not very conspicuous in these woods; one seldom sees

a snake, although probably the dense undergrowth affords them

sufficient concealment. In the outskirts of the forest, however,

and indeed all over Imèrina, a pretty snake, from eighteen inches

to two feet long, is frequently seen, dark brown in colour, with

fine white lines along its slender length. The under side is white.

Notwithstanding the innocuous character of these little snakes, it

is amusing to see the dread the people have of them; our bearers,

for instance, will leap away from them as if they were treading on

the sharpest thorns. Some superstitious notions may partly account

for this fear, as one of the former chief idols of the Hova, called

Ramàhavàly (“the Avenger”), was supposed to be the patron and lord of

serpents. One sometimes sees a water-snake swimming over the surface

of a pond in a most graceful fashion.

[Sidenote: LIZARDS]

Lizards are now and then seen; one is a large unpleasant-looking

creature, nearly two feet long, of which the tail is about one foot.

But a much smaller and prettier one is not uncommon, with delicate

markings. Other species, in the south-west region, vary in length

from six to nine inches. And here, on the fleshy leaves of an aloe,

we may see, basking in the hot sunshine, a beautiful little bright

green lizard, or darting over the surface with such a rapid movement

that it is difficult to observe it closely. Its colour is so exactly

like its habitat that it is doubtless a “protective resemblance.”

While staying at the sanatorium in November 1899 a very curious

arboreal lizard was brought to us by some boys. This creature was

clinging to a stick, and at first sight, and until closely examined,

I could not distinguish it from the branch to which it clung. It was

about six inches long, the body was somewhat flattened, as well as

the head, and the eyes were large and bright. The feet were somewhat

webbed, the toes ending in small disks like those of the geckoes.

The tail was broad and flat, lying close to the branch, and shaped

something like that of a beaver. But the most interesting point about

this lizard was the wonderful resemblance of its colouring to that of

the bark of a tree. The minute scales of the skin were mottled with

brown, grey, green and white, so as exactly to resemble tree bark,

with the usual clothing of lichens precisely the same in colour,

together with small irregularities of surface; so that until examined

minutely, one could hardly believe that the small patches of colour

on the animal’s skin were not also due to vegetable growths. It

was difficult at a few inches’ distance to see where the lizard

began and the wood ended; and in the forest it would be impossible

to distinguish it from the branch to which it clings. It proved, on

being sent to England, to form a new genus.

[Illustration: A FOREST VILLAGE

A native lady being carried in her palanquin. Notice the thatched

huts and small verandahs. The village is built in a clearing of the

forest on the route from the coast to the interior]

[Sidenote: CHAMELEONS]

Chameleons are very frequently met with, not only in the woods but

also in the open country of Imèrina; and in our gardens at the

capital we often see them on the bushes or the paths, from the

little baby one of an inch long to the full-grown one of six to

eight inches. In the paths near the sanatorium one may see them

digging holes and depositing their eggs, which are about the size

of a small bean. Their colouring is often very beautiful, with its

shades of green and yellow and black, brown and red markings, and

there are certainly very rapid changes of colour according to the

different surroundings. The bright tints they exhibit in sunshine and

on leaves become dull dark brown in the shade, or on dark coloured

resting-places. Sometimes they lose all colour, for I one day saw,

on the path near the woods, a chameleon in the coils of a small

snake, which had wound itself three times round the body and was

apparently preparing to swallow it, beginning at the head, although

it seemed almost impossible that the bulky body of the chameleon

could pass through so small an opening. And this was a curious fact:

the chameleon was perfectly _white_. From a sentimental pity for the

little creature, I unwound the snake from it and placed it on a bush.

It was apparently uninjured and soon began to resume its ordinary

colouring, of which its terror had temporarily deprived it.

It is a noteworthy fact that Madagascar is one of the head-quarters

of the Chameleonidæ, for out of fifty known species twenty-one at

least are found in this island; and of the twenty-five kinds which

have been enumerated as having horns and other remarkable processes

on the head, no less than seventeen are peculiar to this country.

One species has a nose dilated and toothed on each side; another has

the top of the head conically produced; while four species have two

flat diverging nasal prominences covered with large scutes; and in

yet another species, the single long conical appendage to the nose is

flexible. The largest Madagascar chameleon known is about a foot long

and is called Ramìlahèloka, which may perhaps be (freely) translated,

“Naughty old boy,” probably from its uncanny appearance and earthy

colour; it is apparently always found on the ground. Of this creature

the natives assert that anyone stepping on it, accidentally or

otherwise, or seizing it, becomes ill. From the slow, deliberate

pace of the chameleon, the Malagasy proverb advises foresight and

retrospect: “_Ataovy toy ny dìan-tàna_: _jerèo ny alòha, todìho ny

aorìana_”—_i.e._ “Act like the stepping of a chameleon: look where

you are going, look back the way you have come.” Naughty little

native boys are fond of making the male chameleons fight together,

and it is curious to see how widely the red mouth is opened at such

times.

[Sidenote: LAND-SHELLS]

While staying near the forest I occasionally saw and had brought to

me specimens of some of the land-shells which are often found in damp

places in the woods. Many years ago more than two hundred of these

were known, and this number has probably been considerably added

to since, and will still be increased as the country becomes more

perfectly explored. Of non-operculate species about eighty were then

described, of operculate species about fifty, and about fifty forms

had been recorded from the lakes and rivers. The largest of these

shells is a species of _Helix_ (_bicingulata_), warm brown in colour,

with diaper-like markings, flattish in shape, and three inches in

its longest diameter. There are several other smaller _helices_;

also examples of _Cyclostoma_, the opening of which, as the name

implies, is almost a perfect circle; species of _Ampullaria_, which

have a very large opening; _Stenogyra_, a long oval and spiral shell;

dark green _Melanatria_, a large spiral shell like _Turritella_,

three inches long, which I have gathered in forest streams; while

the most delicately marked shells are species of _Neritina_, with

black lines, like fine etchings, on a pale yellow ground. Species

of _Bultimus_, also a beautifully marked shell, and of _Limnea_,

_Physa_, _Phanorbis_, and many others are among the fluviatile and

terrestrial mollusca of Madagascar.

[Illustration: CHAMELEON MINOR.

Madagascar is one of the head-quarters of the Chameleonidæ, for out

of fifty known species twenty-one at least are found in this island.]

In walking through the woods one constantly comes across traces

of the wild boar, or, more properly, the river-hog (_Potamochærus

larvatus_), although the animal itself is rarely seen. It is a

somewhat ugly creature, with high withers, long back and little hair.

It has an enormous tubercle, supported by a bony protuberance in the

jaw, which renders the face of the animal extremely disagreeable. It

must exist in large numbers, for it digs up the ground in search

of roots and often does much damage to plantations. The hunting of

the wild boar is a favourite sport with the Malagasy of certain

districts, and Europeans who have joined in the hunt have found it

an exciting sport, with a distinct element of danger, for the beast,

when infuriated, is a formidable animal from its long and powerful

tusks. Some naturalists are of opinion that there are two distinct

species of this river-hog, one found in the upper forest, and the

other on the coast and the lower forest region; of these, the latter

is the larger animal.

[Sidenote: SUN-BIRDS]

Turning now from boars to birds. Many of the Madagascar birds are

by no means deficient in the power of producing sweet sounds of a

very pleasing character and in considerable variety of note; and

there are some few whose song has even been considered to resemble

that of our European nightingale. Although in the cold season there

are comparatively few birds seen or heard, yet it is not so in the

warmer months, or in the lower forest all through the year. Staying

near the upper forest in the month of December 1884, we sat down on

the margin of a stream, enjoying greatly the beauty of the woods and

especially the singing of the birds. Never before had I heard in a

Madagascar forest so many different notes, or so constant a sound

of bird life. Besides this, there was the low undertone of water

over the rapids some little distance away and the hum of insects.

It was a great enjoyment just to sit and listen, and see the birds

as they flew around us. Among these were the _Sòikèly_, a species

of sun-bird, a very little fellow, who sat on the topmost point

of a bare branch. There are three species of Nectarinidæ found in

the island, one of which, the glittering sickle-billed sun-bird

(_Neodrepanis coruscans_) belongs to a genus peculiar to Madagascar.

Many of the birds of this family rival, in the Old World, the

gem-like and metallic tints of the hummingbirds of the New World, and

this is true of those found here. M. Pollen observes of them that

they live in flocks, and all day long one sees them darting about the

flowering shrubs, sucking with their long tongue the nectar which

forms their principal food. Their song is long, very agreeable, but

little varied, and they have the habit of suspending themselves by

their claws from the small branches. The male bird of one species has

metallic tints of purple, green, red and yellow. The other species

is black underneath, with green and purple metallic reflections on

head, back and wings.

[Sidenote: ROLLERS]

Among the most beautiful birds in Madagascar are several species of

the rollers (_Coraciadæ_), so called from their peculiar habit of

flight. The five species found here live mostly on the ground and

come out chiefly at dusk. The _Vòrondrèo_, or Kiròmbo roller, plays

a great part in the chants and religious recitations and folk-tales

of the Malagasy. These birds live chiefly on grasshoppers, but they

also devour chameleons and lizards. When they cry they puff out the

throat, so that this portion of the body has the appearance of a

pendent bag. The colouring of this species is perhaps the “quietest”

of the five, having a good deal of slaty-grey on head and breast. But

both it and its companions have shades of “shot” colour, purple and

green, or red and green, as looked at in different lights. The others

exhibit larger masses of bright colour; the violet roller having, as

its name denotes, a good deal of violet or purple tinting. Four of

them are rather large birds, but the scaly ground roller is small,

with a curious collar of black and white feathers, reminding one of

the strange neck and throat appendages of some of the paradise birds.

Other birds we saw and heard that day were the _Railòvy_, a species

of shrike, with long forked tail; the _Bolòky_, or grey parrot, with

a long repeated whistle, as if going up the gamut; the _Vòrondrèo_,

one of the rollers, with its prolonged whistle ending in a sudden

drop; the _Parètika_, one of the warblers, with a creaky little short

note, something like a child’s rattle; together with these sounds was

the _kow-kow_ of the _Kankàfotra_ cuckoo, the varied mellow notes of

the _Tolòho_ cuckoo, the cooing sound of the _Fòny_, or wood-pigeon,

and also the call of one of the hawks.

[Sidenote: MR BARON]

[12] Mr Baron was for thirty-five years a missionary of the L.M.S. A

good writer, an eloquent speaker, and an earnest missionary, he was

also a very able botanist and an accomplished geologist, and at the

time of his lamented death, in 1907, he probably knew more about both

these sciences, as regards Madagascar, than any other European. On

account of his researches, and the large collections he made, he was

elected a Fellow of both the Linnæan and the Geological Societies,

honours never conferred except for substantial scientific work. He

also received a specially fitted microscope from the Royal Society

for petrological study, in which he became very proficient. During

his residence in Madagascar he sent home many hundreds of plants,

a great proportion of which were new to science, and also a large

number of rock sections for microscopical and polariscope study.

Twice he was offered valuable positions under the French Government

in this island, but he was too true a missionary to give up Christian

work.

[Illustration: Chamæleons

CHAMÆLEON LONGICAUDA _⅔ full size_

_Heads, from above_

CHAMÆLEON WILLSII]

CHAPTER XI

FOREST SCENES

Anyone who has stayed near the upper forest during December or

January, and has quietly watched for a short time among the trees,

will not complain of scarcity of bird life to admire and study. The

beautiful creatures will come and alight all around us, if we only

remain perfectly still, seeking their food as they hop on the ground,

or flutter from branch to branch. We may watch their nests and see

their eggs, and then the newly fledged birds, noting from day to day

how they develop; until one morning the nest is empty, for its little

inmates have found out their power of wing, and have left it to set

up for themselves and add another little company to the tenants

of the forests. It may be truly said that the note of one bird or

another is never silent at this time of the year all day long, while

some are heard also at night. I remember especially watching one of

the two species of goat-sucker, which are found here: for although it

is called _Matòriàndro_, or “day-sleeper,” from its nocturnal habits,

it may be seen in shady places at midday; its beautifully mottled

shades of brown and grey giving it, no doubt, protection, from their

resemblance to its surroundings. They have the habit of rising from

a slight elevation straight into the air; then they let themselves

suddenly fall, to resume their ordinary mode of flight. It will also

fly along the paths, permitting one to approach it again and again,

and when flying it reveals the black and white colouring under the

wings. They feed exclusively on nocturnal insects, chiefly moths and

beetles.

[Sidenote: OWLS]

While speaking of the birds of the interior, one must not forget the

owls, of which six or seven species are known in Madagascar; two

of these, the scops owl and the barn owl, are tolerably plentiful.

The last-mentioned appears to be exactly identical with the almost

world-wide and well-known bird of that name. As among most other

peoples, the owl is regarded by the Malagasy as a bird of ill-omen;

they call it _Vòrondòlo_—_i.e._ “spirit-bird”—thinking it an

embodiment of the spirits of the wicked; and when its startling

screeching cry is heard in the night they believe it to be a presage

of misfortune. There are numerous fables and stories about the owl,

illustrating the popular dread of the bird. But like the owls in all

other parts of the world, the Madagascar species are really public

benefactors, by keeping down the number of rats and mice and other

vermin; and yet their nocturnal habits, their large staring eyes, the

“uncanny” ear-like feathers of some, and especially their unearthly

screech, have all combined to make them objects of dread. One species

of owl is really a beautifully coloured bird, its plumage being pale

brown, spotted with silvery markings.

The bush and woods of small trees which are found surrounding the

upper belt of forest do not show many flowers during the cold

season of the year. Yet even during these cooler months—May to

August—innumerable objects of interest present themselves to those

who will use their eyes as they walk along the woodland paths.

Among the few flowers that are to be seen, besides the ever-present

orange spikes of the _Sèva_ (_Buddleia madagascariensis_), and the

purple flowers of the _Sèvabé_ (_Solanum auriculatum_) are the

bell-like reddish flowers of a species of _Kitchingia_, which are

rather plentiful; and towards the end of August a number of small

trees and bushes are showing clusters of handsome crimson flowers;

while a purple trumpet-shaped flower is to be seen here and there.

Not uncommon is a shrub with small red flowers, like honeysuckle,

growing at the axils of the leaves and all along the stems. More rare

is a good-sized bush, with large light green and glossy leaves, and

with clusters of yellow fruits, much like large white currants. This

shrub would be a handsome addition to a garden. Berries of various

hues—black, red, orange and yellow—are fairly plentiful; and in many

bushes and trees the lack of flowers is almost made up for by the

brilliant scarlet, or crimson, or orange colours of the new leaves,

and in others again by the bright orange or red of the fading leaves.

[Sidenote: PALMS]

There are few trees of any size left in the woods in the immediate

vicinity of the sanatorium, or near the paths through them; they

have all been cut down for the timber market in the capital, or for

house-building in the nearer villages. But in the deep valleys

not a mile distant there is still much virgin forest, and many

trees of considerable height; and on the roadside in the Mandràka

valley, along which the automobile road and then the railway have

been constructed within the last ten or twelve years, both cut

through dense forest, there are many lofty and isolated trees still

left standing, as well as numbers of them in the adjoining woods.

Like most tropical trees, these show the generally vertical habit

of the branches; in the crowd of competitors there is no room for

lateral expansion by wide-spreading branches; every tree presses

upwards to get the light and heat of the sun. In many parts of the

forest, the small palm, commonly called the “bamboo-palm” (_Mal.

Fàri-hàzo_—_i.e._ “woody sugar-cane”), is very plentiful, giving a

thoroughly tropical appearance to the vegetation. Few trees are more

beautiful than this palm, with its ringed stem, three to four inches

in diameter, and its graceful crown of light green pinnate leaves,

through which the sunlight shines. Its usual height is twelve or

fourteen feet, but it occasionally attains double that height, or

more, in certain situations. A much larger, but far less common, palm

is the _anìvona_, but this is because of its being cut down for the

sake of its tough wiry bark, of which the people make the flooring of

their houses, and also use in the construction of the old-fashioned

timber-framed Hova dwellings. The bamboo-palm seems of much less

practical use, and is therefore much more plentiful. Here and there a

still smaller species of palm may be found, with a stem not exceeding

an inch in diameter.

[Sidenote: CLIMBERS]

A very noticeable feature of these woods, as indeed of all tropical

forests, is the profusion of climbing plants. Even the smaller

trees and bushes have their twining and creeping parasites, tightly

wound round their stems. And from the tallest trees there hang and

intertwine all manner of lianas, some as big as a ship’s cable, and

others of all intermediate sizes—ropes of every dimension, down to

the finest cord, and often forming an almost impassable barrier, an

inextricable tangle of dense vegetation. Frequently these climbing

plants seem to strangle and squeeze out the life of their unfortunate

hosts; and it is often difficult to distinguish the foliage of

the original tree, and that of the parvenu, which has used its

more robust neighbour to climb up to the light and heat above the

surrounding mass of leafage. Some of these climbers have prominent

and beautiful flowers, which mark their presence very distinctly;

one of these, first sent home by a lady, proved to be a new species.

This liana is about as thick as a one-inch rope, and its spikes of

creamy-yellow flowers are set from one to two feet apart on the

main stem. These spikes are from ten to sixteen inches in length,

each containing from forty to sixty large flowers growing closely

together, so that they are very conspicuous in the forest, forming

immense festoons of flowers, mounting to the tops of lofty trees,

crossing from one tree to another, and shining almost golden in

colour in the brilliant sunshine. These lianas are very plentiful and

may be recognised at a considerable distance, so that they form in

November one of the noticeable features of the upper line of forest.

In the cold season, during which many of these observations were

made, of course this liana is indistinguishable from the tangled mass

of vegetation.

Although during the winter months flowers, as already mentioned, are

scarce in the upper forest, there is very much to interest one in the

cryptogamic vegetation which is so abundant everywhere around us. The

mosses are seen in great profusion, and of many species. Frequently

they occur in dense masses, carpeting the ground and the bases of the

trees with a thick cushion-like covering. And of what beautiful and

varied colours are these humble plants! light green and all shades of

darker green, star-like mosses of pale pink, browns and greys, some

bright crimson in colour, and some with waxy-looking fructification

stalks; and of all kinds of growth; hair-like filaments, delicate

branching forms, some thick like grass, others like seaweeds, others

silvery-white on one side and chocolate-brown on the other; but words

fail to give any adequate idea of their variety and beauty. During a

short ramble a score of well-marked species may soon be gathered.

And the lichens are hardly less numerous or beautiful than the

mosses: indeed it is sometimes difficult to tell to which order of

plants some of these organisms belong. In many drier places the

ground is covered with masses of a pale grey species, delicately

branched. And almost everywhere the bushes and trees are festooned

with the hanging filaments of another pale greyish-white lichen

(_Usnea sp._), which give them quite a venerable appearance. Another

common species is a branching coral-like one, pale green above, with

beautiful shades of brown underneath. The rocks seen all over Imèrina

are sometimes perfectly white with minute forms of lichen, but more

frequently present a mosaic of differently coloured species: black,

white, orange, russet and red.

[Sidenote: FUNGI]

And the fungi again are quite as noticeable as the other cryptogams,

and their colours make them even more conspicuous. On decaying

timber, their circular and collar-like forms and bright tints

constantly strike one’s attention. From one inch to three or four

inches in diameter these plants present a great variety of colour;

pure white, pale buff edged with brown, brilliant scarlet, orange,

yellow, dark brown, etc.; all these are very common. Some fungi are

hard and woody in substance; others are leathery and flexible, others

soft and gelatinous; and occasionally one sees specimens a foot in

diameter, with delicate shades of browns and greys on their upper

surface.

It may be easily imagined that with this wealth and variety of

cryptogamic forms many of the tree trunks are a perfect flora of

the humbler kinds of vegetable growths; for we have not mentioned

the delicate hymenophyllum ferns which also cover them in damp

situations; or the great hart’s-tongue ferns, which often occupy the

forks of the branches; or the innumerable small bulbs of the orchids,

which cling, by their long aerial roots, to the trunks and boughs of

the trees.

In walking through the woods one sometimes becomes conscious of a

sickly sweet smell somewhere near us. This proceeds from a hive

of bees not very far away, generally in the hollow of a tree. The

honey, which is usually excellent, is generally brought for sale to

us in the comb by some of the woodmen. Occasionally, however, it is

somewhat bitter, through being obtained from the flowers of certain

trees or plants. The Madagascar bee, known to entomologists as _Apis

unicolor_, differs but little in appearance from the English species,

although it is somewhat smaller, darker, and less hardy. It chooses,

if left to nature, the same kind of situation for its hive, and

multiplies in the same way. The drones also are idle and are killed

off at certain seasons. The Madagascar insect is much more gentle

when handled than the English one, but there is great difficulty

in hiving the swarms. These bees continue to store honey during the

winter months, although that is the dry season, with few flowers; and

they work in all weathers, even during a heavy thunderstorm.

[Sidenote: DEATH’S-HEAD MOTH]

The enemies of the Madagascar bee are, in the first place, rats,

then ants and the wax-moth; but the greatest enemy of all is the

death’s-head moth (_Sphinxatropos_), which is very common. He enters

the hive fearlessly, for although the bees crowd round him they

have no power to stop him, as their stings cannot pierce that downy

body, with its tough skin, but merely slip along it harmlessly. As

soon as he is within he keeps his wings vibrating with a low humming

noise and leisurely sucks his fill—a very long fill. The damage he

does is immense, and hives have been known to be sucked dry, and not

a drop of honey to be found in them, so that the bees quite give

up resisting. Other enemies of the bee are a parasitical solitary

wasp, which lays its eggs in the hive; and another wasp which seizes

the bees when returning to the hive for the sake of their laden

honey-bag, and it also kills them with wonderful celerity.

The Malagasy have a good general idea of the economy of the hive,

and of the habits of the bees. They usually find the wild nests by

watching the flight of the laden bees, and then by listening during

the hot part of the day, when the bees are “playing.” At most places

the people know of a number of wild nests, over which they keep

supervision. In many villages they make large quantities of mead,

more especially when the rite of circumcision is being observed. For

bees’-wax there is always a ready sale.[13]

Madagascar, like most tropical countries, is not without a fair

share of spiny and prickly plants. Perhaps most in evidence in the

interior is the prickly pear (_Opuntia ferox_), which was universally

used in old times as a thick hedge for the defence of the ancient

towns and villages. With its large needle-like spines, an inch to an

inch and a half long, studding its broad fleshy leaves, and capable

of inflicting a wound difficult to heal, and with smaller spines

covering the flowers and the fruit, it is easy to see that to a

barefooted and lightly clothed people such a hedge presented a very

formidable, not to say impassable, barrier. The flowers are large and

handsome, yellow and red in colour, and growing at the edge of the

leaves—if indeed they can be called such; the fruit, which is about

as large as a pear, turns yellow when ripe and is not unpalatable,

being something like an unripe gooseberry; but it is exceedingly

difficult to get it peeled without being hurt by its hair-like

needles. The large spines are the ordinary Malagasy pins, and are

very useful for this purpose.

Another very noticeable plant is the _Sòngosòngo_, a species of

_Euphorbia_, with spiny stems and brilliant scarlet flowers. This is

planted on the top of the low earthen banks which form the boundaries

between private properties and the roads; but it is not nearly such a

formidable defence as the prickly pear. A very common variety of this

plant has pale yellow flowers.

Another prickly plant is the Mysore thorn, or _Tsiàfakòmby_ (_lit._

“impassable by cattle”), which is largely used for fences and

stockades. From its numerous hook-like thorns, it also is not a plant

which can be easily passed through, when growing thickly. It has a

large spike of yellow flowers.

[Sidenote: STINGING PLANTS]

Another plant or shrub, which grows to the size of a tree, is not

prickly, but stinging. This is the _Amìana_ (_Urera radula_). The

large velvety leaves sting like those of a nettle; they are, however,

of beautiful and complicated outline, and I have pressed specimens

taken from young plants which are as much as two feet across, and

which would be admirable patterns for ornamentation. The wood is

very soft and, when on fire, smoulders for a long time. The trunk,

which is tall and straight, in some specimens is nearly two feet in

diameter. Some five different species have been described.

Another stinging plant, the _Agy_, with fine needle-like hairs, which

fall in showers and produce fearful irritation, is described in a

subsequent chapter. Many trees in the forest are armed with blunt

prickles, which injure the hand if they are touched when making one’s

way through the dense vegetation. In the extreme south of the island

there are trees or shrubs called _Fàntsi-òlotra_ (“nail-edged”?),

probably a species of _Didierea_, whose thorny stems, always turned

towards the south, are said to resemble a barricade of elephants’

trunks; the stem, which is as big as a man’s thigh, is entirely

covered with large thorns, between which grow the small round leaves.

On one of these thorny trees, however, M. Lemaire found a white lemur

(_Propithecus verrauxii_) clinging, which, when dislodged, went

leaping across the country on its hind legs, after the fashion of a

kangaroo.

[Illustration: ANÀLAMAZÀOTRA A VILLAGE IN THE GREAT FOREST

Cattle pens and characteristic forest trees are shown]

[Sidenote: FOREST DWELLERS]

Someone may perhaps ask: Where are the people of these woods? In the

upper belt of forest there are few inhabitants except woodcutters,

and in small hamlets on the side of the main tracks passing through

it; but farther south, where the two lines unite, we shall find, as

we travel past the Bétsiléo province and east of it, a considerable

number of people, who are loosely called “Tanàla,” which simply means

“forest-dwellers,” and of these there are many subdivisions. There

are vague and uncertain accounts given by the Malagasy of a tribe of

people whom they call Béhòsy, and who are said to live in a wooded

country in the west of the island. Their food is honey, eels and

lemurs, which latter are caught in traps and fattened. They are very

dark in colour and are much like the Sàkalàva in appearance, and

are said to jump from tree to tree like monkeys, and cannot easily

be followed, as the country is rocky. They make network of cords,

hence their name (_hòsy_, string, twine). They are extremely timid,

and, if captured, die of fright. These Béhòsy seem to resemble in

some of their habits the “monkey-men” of Dourga Strait, New Guinea;

but it is much to be wished that more definite information could be

obtained about them, for, if what we hear of them is correct, they

are probably of a different stock to the rest of the inhabitants of

Madagascar.

An apparently well-authenticated account was given by a Mauritius

trader of a wild man of the woods having been caught by some Malagasy

in the year 1879. He was asleep on the branch of a tree, and when

taken resisted violently, biting his captors severely; after a

few days’ confinement, however, he ceased to be aggressive. He

was described as a powerfully built man, his face and body being

thickly covered with long black hair. His mode of walking was very

peculiar, as he travelled very fast, occasionally going on all-fours,

his eyes being invariably fixed on the ground. When caught he was

perfectly nude, but wore clothes when provided with them. He could

never be induced to eat flesh, but lived entirely on manioc and

other roots; nor would he sleep in a recumbent position. After some

months he learned a few words, and by means of these and signs it

was understood that he had a father and two brothers in the forest.

These were found, and surrounded by a search-party one night, but

easily eluded their pursuers, jumping from tree to tree and running

on all-fours. The captured man died five months after being taken

(see _Proc. Roy. Geogr. Soc._, May 1889).

[Sidenote: CYCLONES]

The central part of the Indian Ocean is well known as the region of

cyclones, and these dreaded storms often include in their revolving

course the islands of Mauritius and Réunion, and occasionally touch

the eastern shores of Madagascar. A notable example of this was the

cyclone of November 1912, which stranded the S.S. _Salazie_, and

wrecked Diego-Suarez and many villages in the north of the island.

It is very seldom, however, that these storms reach the interior;

but in the month of February 1876 a cyclone did ascend to the upper

region of the island and did considerable damage. With my wife and

children I was staying for a holiday at that time at Andràngalòaka, a

small village on the edge of the upper forest, but five or six miles

south of Ankèramadìnika, where our good friend, Dr A. Davidson, had

a country house, which he often placed at the disposal of ourselves

and other friends; and never shall we forget the experiences of that

night of peril.

It was a Sunday evening and the sun set with a radiance which covered

the whole sky with a crimson glow, in a very remarkable manner. We

settled down after our evening meal for a little reading aloud, but

the wind rose rapidly, and after a time the roar was so great that

we could not go on. We found that its violence increased, and at

length we perceived that it was slowly changing in its direction. We

went to bed, but not to sleep, for the rain poured in from the roof,

and the howl of the wind made sleep impossible. We lay trembling on

our beds, fearing every now and then, as a more violent burst shook

the house, that it would be blown down over us, and we buried in its

ruins. Such would have been the case, I believe, had not the gables

been built of burnt brick and strengthened by the chimney-stacks.

During the night the metal roofing of the verandah was torn off with

a fearful clatter, and soon after dawn—and how long that dawn seemed

in coming!—the outer roof of the house, which was of grass, fixed

over the tiled roof, was bodily seized by the wind and carried off

altogether with its timbers, with a great crash, and then we thought

the house itself was all going. But towards nine A.M. the wind

gradually subsided, after having blown from about three-quarters of

the circle of the compass.

Scores of country chapels as well as houses were unroofed and greatly

damaged by this storm. A day or two after it we tried to take one

of our usual walks through the woods, but the paths were almost

obliterated by fallen trees and branches. In the valleys scores

of great trees had been torn up by the roots, with masses of soil

clinging to them; in other places they had been broken off short,

snapped as if they had been mere twigs; and in the prostrate branches

were numbers of arboreal creatures—chameleons, lizards, serpents and

tree-frogs—dashed down from their homes. It was all striking evidence

of the force with which the fierce wind had roared, especially up the

valleys, and had laid low everything in its path.

[13] For most of the information here given about the Madagascar bee,

I am again indebted to the Rev. C. P. Cory, formerly of the Anglican

Mission in Madagascar.

CHAPTER XII

RAMBLES IN THE UPPER FOREST

There are a number of paths in the forest which may be followed

from the sanatorium, north, east and south, and with a considerable

variety of scene. But it is easy to get lost in them, for I remember

one day when a party of us set out for a morning’s walk, but could

not find our way back, although we often caught sight of the house;

and it was late in the afternoon before we at length got home, very

tired and very hungry. Two of our friends, who were well acquainted

with the neighbourhood, were lost in paths not very far from the

sanatorium, and had to spend the night in the woods, making as

comfortable a resting-place as they could with leaves and bracken,

but getting no sleep from the multitude of mosquitoes. And a curious

circumstance was, that the Malagasy from the house, who came out

to seek for them, were afraid either to shout out loud to them, or

to show the lights they carried, for fear of offending the _lòlo_,

or spirits, which they think haunt the woods. Had they done either

of these things, our friends would probably have escaped being

benighted. Happily, the time of this adventure was in the dry season,

or it might have had serious consequences.

From what has been said in Chapters IV. and V. about the difficult

paths through the chief forest, it is not strange that the Malagasy

have considerable dread of it and do not share in our admiration of

its beauties. So one of their proverbs says: “_Roa lahy miditra ala:

ka izy tokiko, ary izaho tokiny_”—that is, “Two men entering the

forest: it’s ‘He’s my confidence, and I am his’”; the fact is that

both are afraid. It is to them the “dark forest,” full of mystery

and fear, and it may easily be imagined that before any practicable

roads were made through it, it had much to inspire dread. One of the

native hymns, often sung when the natives have friends going away to

a distance, prays for protection for them in the forest and also in

crossing the rivers, on account of the many things in both which may

injure the traveller.[14]

[Sidenote: A MADAGASCAR FOREST]

It would probably be a very serious matter for a European to be lost

for long in a Madagascar forest, for he would be entirely at a loss

for food, and would most likely be unable to produce fire to cook

anything he could find. To a Malagasy, however, especially one living

in the neighbourhood of the woods, it would not matter so much, as

there are several species of yam, which he would easily find. These

_Ovinàla_ are climbing plants common in the forest, belonging to the

genus _Dioscorea_, and have very large edible tubers, which are much

sought after by the people; their taste is similar to other yams

which are so largely used as food in other parts of the world. In

Drury’s “Adventures,” he speaks frequently of procuring these yams in

the south-western forests; for, living many years, as he did, like a

native in that part of the island, he became well versed in woodcraft

and could live as the people lived.

A European would be equally puzzled as to obtaining fire to cook his

yams, were he so fortunate as to find any; but a forest-dwelling

Malagasy could easily produce fire by friction. Choosing two pieces

of a particular kind of wood, he would cut one to the shape of a

round stick with a pointed end; the other he would make into a

flatter piece, in which a slight groove is cut. Taking hold of

the pointed stick, the operator twirls it first one way and then

another, until the friction produces smoke and then fire, which is

communicated to a little tinder placed close to the point. Gently

blowing upon the spark which is produced, the tinder bursts into

flame, the whole operation occupying only a few minutes. There are

special words for this mode of obtaining fire: _mamòsitra_, which is

also used for the boring of a hole by an insect, or a chameleon, to

deposit its eggs; and _miraingy_, the pieces of wood being called

_raingy_. But it may be feared that the universal use of Swedish

matches will soon render this means of producing fire one of the lost

arts.

To tend a fire is, in Malagasy, to _misòrona àfo_; and since

_misòrona_ also means “to exercise a priestly function,” it looks as

if this word or phrase was a relic of ancient reverence for fire as a

sacred thing, a feeling which is found in the customs and speech of

many peoples.

[Sidenote: WATERFALLS]

In several directions there are beautiful waterfalls, to which

a pleasant picnic excursion may be made. One of these is called

“Tsi-màharé-rìtsoka,” which means, “Where a whisper cannot be heard,”

for indeed, when near it, you must bawl as loud as you can to be

heard at all; this fall is a succession of cascades, coming down

from a considerable height. At another place a large body of water

pours at one sweep over a great ledge of rock, perhaps thirty feet

deep. And along the automobile road, only a few yards from it up a

little valley leading into the main valley of the river Mandràka,

we were fortunate one day to discover a most lovely waterfall of

considerable height in the midst of dense wood, with a large pool of

water at its foot, where a delightful bathe might be taken; an ideal

place for a summer day. But the largest and grandest waterfall, and

within a little over an hour’s walk from the sanatorium, is really an

artificial one; for in making the automobile road to Tamatave along

the Mandràka valley, the river was diverted from a circuitous course

over a number of rapids, and brought by a short-cutting over a nearly

sheer fall of about a hundred and fifty feet, where it pours down a

magnificent body of water, with a roar and clouds of spray that wet

everything for a long way round. The sides of the cutting are being

rapidly covered with vegetation from the constant moisture, so that

in a short time it will have all the effect of a natural fall. The

noise is tremendous, and the fall can be seen from several points on

the main road.

[Sidenote: FROGS]

At the foot of the second of the waterfalls just mentioned I was

fortunate enough to see a rather rare frog, which is peculiar to

Madagascar. This little creature is only an inch long, as regards

the body, but on that and its long hind legs there are semicircular

patches of bright red on a black ground, so that it is very

conspicuous (_Mantella baroni_) (see illustration). There is also

a much larger frog, three inches in length, with hind legs quite

six inches long (_Rhacophoras albilabris_); this species appears to

be, in part at least, arboreal as well as aquatic, as its toes are

furnished with little disks instead of claws (see illustration). He

is, however, a giant compared with the majority of the frogs found in

the island, which are not very different in colouring or size from

the common English species. These creatures are very plentiful in the

rice-fields, and as one walks along the _vàlamparìa_, or little banks

separating the fields, the frogs jump off and “plop” into the water

at every step one takes. In the early morning, after a rainy night,

the noise of their croaking is very loud, almost deafening, as they

apparently find the increased depth of water much to their liking.

From some small structural peculiarities, many of the Madagascar

frogs have been arranged in a distinct genus, called _Mantidactylus_,

and of this genus at least sixteen species have been described. Of

the widely distributed genus _Rana_, one species, _R. fasciata_,

is said by a careful observer to build a kind of nest. These frogs

construct regular passages under the grass during the dry season;

their paths are made as regularly as those of a mole, by the little

creatures pressing down the short grass near the earth, and drawing

together the longer blades, thus rendering them invisible. The

nests are from eight to ten inches in diameter by four in height,

and made ingeniously by weaving the layers of grass together. When

frightened, these frogs throw out a limpid stream of water, which has

been stored up in time of need, as in very dry weather, and which is

distributed over the body, so as to keep the whole of it moist. The

tree-frogs are very pretty little creatures, their light green colour

exactly matching that of the leaves on which they live, so that it

is difficult to detect their presence, except by close inspection.

Their toes end in small disks, so as to adhere closely to the smooth

surface of the leaves.

We have already seen that many of the living creatures of Madagascar

gain great protection from enemies from the assimilation of their

colour to that of their surroundings. This is the case also with

many species of grasshopper and of mantis. You see an insect with

bright scarlet wings flit by you and settle on a bush; wanting to

observe it more closely, you try to find it, but it has disappeared,

and not a vestige of bright colour is to be seen. Still, if you are

patient and search carefully, you may presently see a mantis moving

its head about in an uncanny fashion, and its fore legs held up in a

mock devotional attitude, from which its specific name of _Religiosa_

has been given it. But the scarlet wings are folded under its green

wing-cases so as to be perfectly unseen, and these coverings are just

like a leaf, the rest of its body being exactly the colour of its

resting-place. In some of the grasshoppers, this mimicry of vegetable

forms is still more wonderful. Here is one which resembles _green_

grass, and its body, legs, wing-sheaths and antennæ are all as like

grass as they can possibly be. But here again is another kind, whose

body is equally imitative of _dry_ grass, and so all parts of it are

just like the stalks or the blades of yellowish-brown grass, dried

up during the cold season. Even the eyes are imitative, and exactly

resemble a small brown seed, such as many grasses bear.

[Sidenote: BEETLES]

There are many species of beetles to be seen, although none of them

are very handsome or conspicuous. The most common kind is a broad

flat insect, about an inch long and dull dark brown in colour, which

crosses one’s path at every step. Another is seen chiefly on the

bushes, a smaller insect, but bright shining jet-black. Another,

which appears as if it mimicked a wasp in its habit of flight, is

shot with brown and green, with very long legs, and is constantly

taking short flights or running rapidly. Another one, but much more

rare, has golden-green and metallic tints on its wing-cases. But the

insect which has puzzled us most is one that I have seen on a large

bush of _Ròimémy_, a plant with acacia-like leaves, with prickles

along the leaf-stalks. This beetle is about five-eighths of an inch

long, and almost hemispherical in shape. It is warm reddish-brown in

colour, with a line of black and then of yellow next the head, and is

perfectly flat below. These insects cluster closely, as thick as they

can lie, in groups of from a dozen to more than a hundred together,

all round the thicker stems, so that they look at a little distance

like strings of large brown beads; and in some of the topmost

branches they form a continuous mass for two or three feet. Amongst

these shining brown insects are a few others of quite a different

colour and shape, perfectly flat, like a minute tortoise, and of a

uniform grey, exactly resembling the lichen on the bark of the tree,

and the edges of the carapace scalloped. These grey insects are in

the proportion of about one to forty or fifty of the darker coloured

ones. There are also a few individuals of the same shape as the brown

one, but yellowish-green in colour. What these grey insects can be,

and what relation they bear to the much more numerous brown ones, I

cannot make out.

Other insects, at first sight resembling beetles, are gaudily

coloured. Yonder is a bush which is conspicuous from some little

distance, from the quantity of insects clustered on it; they are

about half-an-inch long, but are most brilliant with scarlet, blue

and green. Be careful, however, how you handle them, for their scent

is anything but agreeable; and, notwithstanding their gay colours,

they are, after all, a species of bug. A beetle which I have often

noticed in the woods is an insect an inch and a half long, but with a

very long slender proboscis, with which it appears to pierce the bark

of the stems on which it rests; I think it feeds on the juices of the

bush or tree, and is probably a species of weevil (_Eupholus sp?_).

[Sidenote: MIMICRY]

Mimicry, however, is not confined to Madagascar animals, but also

occurs among plants. Mr Baron says: “In some marshy ground on the

top of Ankàratra mountain, I found a small whitish orchid, a few

specimens of which I gathered. After getting about half-a-dozen, I

discovered, to my great surprise, that some of them were labiate

plants. I was utterly deceived, thinking it was the same plant I was

gathering all the time, so exactly alike were the two species in

almost all outward appearances. I felt at once convinced that this

was a case of mimicry. At the east foot of the mountain I discovered

a similar phenomenon, in a large labiate plant (_Salvia_), strikingly

similar to another orchid. No doubt the labiate in each case mimics

the orchid, not vice versa, in order to ensure fertilisation.”

In one of our rambles near the large patch of old forest which

still remains near the L.M.S. sanatorium at Ambàtovòry I came one

day across a cluster of very large earthworms; at first sight these

looked more like a number of small snakes than worms, as they were

at least three times the size of any English worms, having about as

large a diameter as a good-sized man’s finger. They are not, however,

very common, as I have only seen them on that one occasion; so they

probably do not play the same important part in the renewal of the

soil here as Mr Darwin has shown is done by earthworms in Europe.

Anyone who walks through the forest will notice at points where the

paths branch off a pile of bracken, branches of trees, moss, etc.

These heaps, as well as those of stones in similar positions in the

open country, are known as _fànataovana_. These have been formed

by passers-by throwing a stick or stone on the heap, for luck,

expressing the hope that, if on a journey, they may have a safe

return, as well as success in their undertakings. A similar custom

prevails in the eastern parts of Africa, and also in Sumatra and

Timor, and probably in other countries as well.

[Sidenote: NATIVE FOUNDRIES]

A walk along the upper edge of the forest, although at some distance

from Ankèramadìnika, will bring us to one of the native smelting

and forging stations, where iron is obtained and made into pigs for

the use of blacksmiths, as well as into various implements. Iron

is very abundant in the interior of Madagascar, indeed the whole

soil over an immense extent of it is reddened by iron oxide, and in

some places there is so much magnetite that a compass is seriously

deflected and is quite unreliable. At such a foundry one may see in

use the “feather-bellows,” which the Malagasy brought with them from

their far-off Malayan home, and which I believe is nowhere to be

found but in Madagascar and Malaysia. This consists of two cylinders,

about five feet long and six inches to eight inches wide, made

from the trunks of trees hollowed out. These are made air-tight at

the lower end and fixed in the earth in a vertical position, about

eighteen inches to two feet apart. In each cylinder a hole is made

a few inches from the ground, and in these a bamboo cane or an old

musket-barrel is inserted, the other end being fixed into the stone

or clay wall of the furnace. A piston with feather valves is fitted

into each cylinder, and the shafts or piston-rods are worked up

and down alternately by a boy or man seated on a board uniting the

cylinders. In this way a continuous blast is produced in the furnace.

(Such bellows are also used by blacksmiths.)

These foundries are always situated near a running stream of water,

so that the ore may be washed and cleared as much as possible from

earth and sand. The furnace itself is a hole about six feet in

diameter and one or two feet deep; its walls are of rough stonework,

built up three or four feet, and thickly plastered outside with

clay. Charcoal is used in smelting and, notwithstanding these rude

appliances and methods, the iron produced has been pronounced by

competent judges to be of excellent quality. Spade-blades, knives,

nails, bolts and many other articles are produced by the native

smiths; and in the construction of the Memorial Churches, more than

forty years ago, I had ornamental hinges, railings, finial crosses,

and other requisite ironwork all excellently made and finished by

Malagasy blacksmiths.

[Illustration: MEMORIAL CARVED POSTS AND OX HORNS, BÉTSILÉO PROVINCE

Generally the horns are of oxen killed at the funeral]

[Illustration: BLACKSMITH AT WORK

Note the feather-piston bellows, and the man playing a

single-stringed gourd guitar]

Several of the paths in the forest lead down into ravines of

considerable depth and also of great beauty; the combinations of

luxuriant foliage, rushing water and lichen-embroidered rocks,

ferns and mosses are very varied, and one valley especially reminds

one of the celebrated “Fairy Glen” in North Wales. But there are

occasionally certain drawbacks even in this natural loveliness,

for if you are not very careful you may find yourself attacked by

the small leeches which lie in wait on the grass and bushes, and

transfer themselves to you as you brush by them. Before you feel

any annoyance, you may find yourself streaming with blood from the

punctures made by these little pests, which have got under your

clothing and are feeding at your expense. Happily, they do not

cause any pain worth speaking of, nor are there any unpleasant

after-effects, the only discomfort is the blood you lose and having

it outside instead of inside your skin.

[Sidenote: CRAYFISH]

While staying near the upper forest we had frequently brought to us

for sale a basketful of crayfish, which seems fairly plentiful in

the streams. This species (_Astacoides madagascariensis_), with its

genus, is endemic in Madagascar, and in the interior is of small

size, averaging about three inches in length; the flavour, however,

is excellent, and it makes a very good curry. In the south-east

provinces, and probably in other coast districts as well, it attains

larger dimensions than the above, being about six inches long. It is

a curious fact that crustaceans are entirely absent in the African

continent, and that the Madagascar species is much like the kind

found in Australia, except that the latter is about twice the size of

_Astacoides_.

There is a great variety of ferns to be found in every damp place in

the valleys, from the minute hymenophyllums on the tree trunks to the

larger species of Asplenium, Osmunda, Nephrodium and many others, up

to the tree-ferns, of which there are about twenty different kinds,

and which give a special charm to the vegetation in many places. On

the eastern side of Madagascar the ferns occupy a prominent place

in the flora, there being above two hundred species already known,

and comprising no less than above thirteen per cent. of the whole

flora of that region. Among the Filici are the beautiful gold ferns

and silver ferns, the seed-vessels on the under side of the fronds

having quite the effect of the two precious metals. The young leaves

of a tree found in the forest (_Eleocarpus sericeus_), when dried and

pressed, form the beautiful objects known as “gold leaves.”

[Sidenote: VALUABLE TREES]

A large number of the forest trees yield substances of commercial

value. Two species of climbing plants afford india-rubber, one of

the most valuable exports of the island. A tree called Nàto supplies

a bark which is largely employed by the natives in dyeing the deep

red used for their silk _làmbas_, especially those used to wrap

the bodies of the dead. Other trees yield various gums and resins,

one of these being the valuable gum-copal, of which quantities are

exported. From several other trees tough fibres are obtained for

the manufacture of cord and rope; while from a palm called Vònitra

the “bass fibre” or piassava is taken, which is used for making

brooms, brushes, etc. A shrub, a species of castor-oil plant,

supplies seeds which are so full of oil or fat that they are strung

on a reed like beads and are used to give light, so that it is

called “the candle-nut tree.” When one end is lit, the seeds burn

steadily, giving a light about equal to that of two good candles

and leaving no ash. A very considerable number of trees and plants

are employed in various ways by the Malagasy as medicine, both for

internal and external use; and although the virtue of some of these

may be imaginative only, there can be little doubt that in numbers

of instances these native remedies are of value. Probably a careful

examination of them would give some valuable additions to the

pharmacopœia.

Among the forest trees is a considerable number which yield valuable

timber, most of them hard and beautifully grained woods, which are

employed for cabinet-work as well as in house carpentry. In the

great palace at Antanànarìvo, the three central columns supporting

the ridge of the roof are said to be each formed of the trunk of a

single tree; the roof is a hundred and twenty feet high, and these

pillars are sunk some way in the earth. One of these timber trees,

called _Vòambòana_, is extensively used for making furniture—tables,

sideboards, wardrobes, writing-desks, bookshelves, etc.—and resembles

mahogany. Another tree called _Hàrahàra_ has extremely hard wood,

and is employed for the long spade handles, and formerly for spear

shafts. One species of pine known as _Hètatra_, the only example

of that order in the island, gives a hard white wood used for

flooring; while ebony is procured from one or two endemic species

of _Diospyros_; sandalwood is also reported to be found in certain

localities.

[Sidenote: SUPERSTITIONS]

It will easily be believed that the mysteriousness of the forest has

produced many superstitious notions among the Malagasy, and they have

curious stories of marvellous creatures and monsters inhabiting these

dense woods. One of these is called _Kinòly_, and is said to be human

in origin, for although it has no intestines or stomach, yet in all

its other parts it is like a living person. Its eyes are red, and its

nails long; and, with others of its kind, it is said to be constantly

thieving, so that when anyone leaves out cooked rice or other food,

it takes it. It is difficult, however, to reconcile such accounts

with that of their bowelless condition; it is thought to be a great

misfortune to meet a kinòly. Another strange creature is called

_Tòkan-tòngotra_, or “Single foot,” because it is said to have only

one fore and one hind leg! It is so exceedingly swift that no other

creature has a chance of escaping it; it eats men and goes about at

night. Still another strange beast is called _Siòna_, which has also,

like the kinòly, something human about it. It is said to live away

from men, and when anyone goes through the woods and leaves his rice,

or his axe, these are taken by the siòna and conveyed to its abode.

When the woodmen go to sleep and leave a fire still burning (for

their custom is to leave a big log on the hearth, so that they may be

kept warm), then this creature comes and warms itself. Possibly the

habits of some of the larger lemurs have given rise to such stories,

aided by a good deal of imagination; and the tòkan-tòngotra story

probably comes from the herons or flamingoes, which have the habit of

standing on one leg when asleep.

In passing along the forest paths we frequently come across examples

of the curious ball-insect (_Spherotherium sp._), of which there are

several species, at least six, in Madagascar. These insects, which

are wingless and many-footed, and are called, not very elegantly, by

the Malagasy _Tainkìntana_, or “Star-droppings,” have the power of

instantaneously rolling themselves into an almost perfect sphere,

which form they retain as long as any danger threatens them, and

no force short of pulling them to pieces can make them unroll. The

animal is formed of nine or ten segments, each with a pair of legs

and covered with a plate of armour; while the head and tail are

defended by larger plates, each of which fits into the other and

makes a more perfectly fitting suit of armour than was ever worn

by medieval knight. There are several species of these pretty and

curious creatures. The most common kind here is one which forms a

ball barely an inch in diameter and shining black in colour. Another,

more rarely seen in the interior open country, but common enough in

the upper belt of forest, is of a beautiful brown colour like russia

leather, and is quite double the size of the first-mentioned one. In

passing through the main forest in 1892, we came suddenly one day

to a part of the road which was so thickly covered by such a great

number of these creatures that our bearers could not avoid trampling

on them. These were of a bronze-green tint and belong to a third

species, and were quite three inches in length. Other species of

these Sphærotheria are found in Africa, Asia, Australia and some of

the neighbouring islands.

Another many-footed and wingless creature is common enough in the

upper forest, for we often found it on the upper verandah of the

house at Andràngalòaka; this is a shining black millipede, about a

foot in length, and half to three-quarters of an inch in thickness.

It is called by the natives _Kòdikòdy_, and its numerous reddish

legs, not far short of a thousand in number, have a curious effect

of successive waves as it moves along. Although not very inviting in

appearance, it is quite harmless and is a vegetable feeder. There is

another species, which is marked longitudinally with black and red

stripes.

[Sidenote: CENTIPEDES]

[Sidenote: SCORPIONS]

More unpleasant by far is another many-legged creature, the

centipede, whose sting is said to be exceedingly painful, resembling

the puncture of a hot iron, and which is not uncommon in the interior

as well as in the forest. The mere touch of its minute claws, if it

happens to crawl over one, is said to produce pain and inflammation.

I have turned small centipedes out of the hole in a window-sill where

the bolt would fall; and I remember one morning, before getting out

of bed, seeing a pretty large one marching across our bedroom floor.

Happily these, which are among the few noxious creatures we have in

Madagascar, are not very common. Another unpleasant visitor is the

scorpion, which is rather apt to get into a house which has much

stonework in the basement; we frequently killed small ones about an

inch long at Antanànarìvo. Examples twice that size are found in the

Vàvavàto district; while on the shores of Bèmbatòka Bay (N.W.Co.)

scorpions five inches long occur, and Captain Owen says that they may

be found, one or more, under almost every stone. He states a curious

fact, if indeed it is one—viz. that the most destructive enemy to the

scorpion is the common mouse.[15]

[14]

“_Ao ny àndro mamanala,

Sakambino ao an-àla;

Raha mandeha mita rano,

Mba hazòny sy tantano_”;

etc.

“There are the chilly days,

Sustain them in the forest;

When they ford the rivers,

O uphold and guide them,”

etc.

_Ala_, at the end of the first two lines, is the native word for

“forest,” and the native word translated here “chilly” is from the

damp and cold woods.

[15] Here I may notice that, in addition to the above-named

unpleasant inhabitants of Madagascar, we have had, within the last

eighteen years, a most unwelcome accession to the insect pests, by

the introduction of the chigoe, or “jigger,” which was brought by

the Senegalese black troops employed in the French conquest of 1895.

This minute flea does not jump, but runs over one’s body, and burrows

under the skin, chiefly in the feet, but also sometimes in the hands,

where it causes intolerable itching, and, if not speedily removed

with a needle, becomes in four or five days full of eggs, and causes

sores and inflammation. It is a great pest to the Malagasy, the great

majority of whom go barefoot. But those who have boots and shoes on

get no exemption from the attacks of the jiggers.

CHAPTER XIII

FAUNA

While on the subject of noxious creatures, we remember that one, if

not more, of the spiders of Madagascar must be included in the list.

This is a small arachnid, about the size and shape of a marble,

shining glossy black in colour, except for a small red spot on the

fundament. It is greatly dreaded by the natives, who believe its

bite to be fatal, and it is probably so if cauterisation and other

remedies are not immediately applied. Dr Vinson, a French naturalist,

ascertained that this spider, called _Mènavòdy_ by the people, is

closely allied to the malignant _Latrodectus_ of Elba and Corsica,

whose bite is believed to be fatal, and also to another spider found

in Martinique, which is equally dangerous. People bitten by this

Madagascar spider scream out with pain at intervals of a minute

or two, as if it came on in paroxysms. I remember that one of our

servants when bringing one of these spiders to look at took care to

hold it at a very respectful distance from himself, at the end of a

long stick.

[Sidenote: SPIDERS]

As we push through the bushes we break through many spiders’ webs,

and are struck by the extraordinary shape of some of those whose

snares we unwittingly destroy by our passing along. Here is one,

small and reddish in colour, but much broader than it is long, each

side projecting into a long sharp spike—indeed it is spiky in several

directions, and is utterly unlike any other spider we know of.

This is, I believe, a species of _Cærostris_ (_C. stygiana?_), and

belongs to a genus of which several species have names denoting their

demoniacal shape and colouring—_e.g._ _avernalis_, _stygiana_, etc.

As we stop to observe his geometric web, and his bizarre shape, we

see on the tree to which several of his main “guys” are fixed a very

different spider’s house and a very different spider from our angular

friend just mentioned. This creature is a much larger species than

the other, with jet-black legs and satiny dark grey abdomen as large

as a good-sized nut. He apparently hunts his prey, for he has no net,

but hides himself in an inverted cup-shaped house of strong web. As I

tap the top of this retreat he shams dead and tumbles down into the

grass, from which he will presently ascend as soon as the enemy is

clear off the ground.

Close by this hunting spider’s home we see the large web of a third

species, quite different from the other two. At first sight this

appears to be the same insect as the large _Nephila_, which is so

plentiful in Imèrina, in orchards and outside houses. A closer

inspection, however, shows that it is a different species from that

common large spider, for this one has a long filbert-shaped abdomen,

striped with brown lines, very different from the golden and silvery

markings of the more abundant species. It appears to be strictly a

forest spider and seems rather rare.

In rambling along the edge of one of the pretty rice-valleys north

of Ambòhimànga, I came across a species I had not met with before.

This was of medium size, but was striped in transverse lines of

white and black across the abdomen, so as to give it a zebra-like

appearance. The under side was almost white; altogether it is a

handsome species, and is probably still undescribed scientifically.

It makes a geometrical web, and, like several other Madagascar

spiders, puts the web into rapid vibration if it is disturbed. Some

species draw up their legs close to the body when lying in wait in

the centre of their web, so that they too resemble a small lump of

earth or a stone. Is not this also done as a disguise? It seems to me

highly probable. Other species have the habit of stretching out their

legs in couples, so as to seem almost as if they had only four or six

legs instead of eight, and thus appear to mimic insects. Is this also

intended to hide their predaceous character?

A traveller through the Tanòsy country, south-east coast, speaks of

the uncanny aspect of one of the villages in which he stayed; and

he says that what increased his impression of it, as like a town of

wicked enchanters, was that all the houses were festooned and closely

linked together overhead by tangled masses of gigantic spiders’

webs, amongst which lay in wait monstrous black spiders. Some of the

coast villages, he says, were almost completely roofed in by these

great webs. Spaces of quite thirty feet have been observed spanned

by the lines of the nephila mentioned in a former chapter; and I

have noticed that the angles and outer spaces of its great web are

frequently filled up by the minute geometric webs of smaller species.

These lesser fry appear to be tolerated, if not encouraged, by their

giant neighbour, as they probably catch what would be insignificant

to her, and very likely clear her web of what she rejects; and so

they all live together in harmony in a small colony.

[Sidenote: PROTECTIVE RESEMBLANCE]

Looking about in the undergrowth for wild flowers and fruit, and

happening to rub against the stem of one of the bushes, a small

rough roundish ball falls off on to the ground; this appears exactly

like a bit of round wrinkled bark, but on watching for a minute or

two, it develops four pairs of legs, and runs nimbly away under

cover, revealing itself as a spider, with a marvellous protective

resemblance to its surroundings. Unless the creature actually moves,

it is impossible to detect it, it is so exactly like a knobby bit of

the brown bark.

Protective resemblance in quite a different style appears in a small

spider, perfectly white in colour—thorax, legs and abdomen—which

scuttles out of the coralla of certain white flowers when these are

examined or shaken. This also, unless it moves, is all but invisible;

and there can be no doubt that it is thus enabled to catch the many

small flies which are attracted by the honey and fragrance of the

flowers. A larger and green spider, a handsome species, with a long

oval abdomen striped with red, probably also a hunter, thanks to its

close resemblance to green leaves and the pale reddish veining seen

on many leaves, by which it is thus protected from observation until

it can pounce upon its prey. This is one species of the many spiders

which are caught by some of the solitary wasps, as described in

Chapter VII.

As we notice these curious disguises in spiders, as well as in

numbers of other living creatures, we are reminded of the old nursery

tales and fables of the gift of invisibility supposed to be conferred

by certain plants, or by certain charms or ceremonies. With these

spiders, as well as in many other creatures, some lower, and others

much higher, than them in organisation, this power of becoming at

will unseen, even under the closest observation, is no fable, but

a veritable fact. There is a curious habit which I have observed in

several species of Malagasy spiders which is apparently also used for

protection. If they are disturbed, or if their web is shaken, they

immediately throw themselves into a state of violent vibration, so

that the eye cannot follow them; and this rapid motion is continued

for two or three minutes, until the supposed danger has passed away.

It would seem as if this must be done to confuse a possible enemy

intending to attack them.

[Sidenote: VENOMOUS SPIDERS]

Besides the red-spot spider, there is another kind called by the

natives _Fòka_; this is rather common in gardens and is extremely

like a small crab, with a lozenge-shaped abdomen; it is covered with

tubercles, and its legs are roughened, like those of a crustacean.

Its bite is followed by swelling, which spreads from the wounded

part through the whole body. This dangerous spider’s bite is said

to be often fatal. There is another spider, apparently a species of

_Mygale_, called by the people _Tàrabìby_, found fifty to sixty miles

west of the capital, whose bite is also said to be dangerous, if not

actually fatal. It appears to be a trap-door species. Besides this

one, another species of trap-door spider is also said to be found in

Imèrina, but I have not seen a specimen myself; it is said to leave

the door of its dwelling open.

The illustration given herewith will give a better idea than any mere

description can of the strange shapes of many Madagascar spiders.

The largest figure shows an _Epeira_ of extraordinary shape; it

will be seen that the abdomen is like a set of three cones, fixed

into one another and terminated by a sharpish point. A still more

bizarre figure is presented by _Epeira mitralis_, as it crouches,

fixed close to a branch or twig; whether viewed from the back or

front or side, it is equally “uncanny” in its appearance. Then,

again, the two _Gastera-canthæ_, with their bodies much broader than

they are long, are very unlike our ordinary idea of a spider, while

the formidable spikes with which they are armed would appear a very

efficient protection from any insect-eating bird or beast. The rather

diabolical-looking _Thomisus foka_, with its crab-like pincers, is

much dreaded by the Malagasy, as giving a fatal bite, if speedy

remedies are not applied. Happily, it is not very common.

[Sidenote: DIFFERENT SPECIES OF SPIDERS]

There is a considerable variety in the webs of Malagasy spiders.

Here is one which may be seen by hundreds, filling up the space

between the sharp-pointed leaves of the aloes. At first sight it

appears only a tangled mass of web, but on closer examination we see

that the groundwork is a geometrical web in the centre, but as it is

stretched horizontally, and not vertically, it is cup-shaped. But

from it, above and below, stretches a labyrinth of lines, like the

crossing and recrossing of the lianas in the forest. In the centre of

this maze of lines the owner of the structure lies in wait, a small

spider, handsomely marked with black and white. Not far off a grey

silken bag is hung, which contains the eggs, from which a swarm of

little spiders will eventually proceed, not bigger than small ants.

A word or two may be added about a very common house spider which

is abundant in Imèrina. This is a rather large species, light brown

in colour, but its peculiarity is that it is extremely thin and

flat—a case almost of extension without thickness, as it is hardly

thicker than a piece of stout paper; and so it is enabled to wait

for its prey hidden in narrow and almost imperceptible cracks. It is

emphatically a hunting spider and makes apparently no nest or web,

and it is amusing to see the adroit way in which it will cautiously

approach the edge of a crack in a board and sweep off an unwary fly.

One more curious spider may be noticed here; this has a very small

body, hardly larger than a big pin’s head, but it has extraordinarily

long thread-like legs, covering a very wide area when compared with

its minute body.

There must be still a large number of these Arachnidæ yet unknown to

science, for they are very numerous in species in some localities. I

remember spending an afternoon, many years ago, on a hill a few miles

south of the capital, together with two or three friends, hunting

spiders. We caught at least thirty different species among the bushes

on the hill-top and slopes. Doubtless some of these are described

and figured in one of the volumes of M. Grandidier’s great work on

Madagascar, still in progress. But there are probably a much larger

number of these creatures still awaiting the careful observations of

anyone who will note their interesting habits and homes, and their

very varied appearance and structure.

[Illustration: ON THE COAST LAGOONS

Pandanus (hòfa) trees]

I fancy my readers will now say, you have told us a good deal about

the insects, and something about the reptiles and birds of the

forest, but are there no four-footed animals in the Madagascar woods

except the wild boar? Yes, there certainly are many such, for there

are at least fifty species of quadrupeds already known in addition

to the lemurs; but as they are, most of them, small—sixteen are

species of rats and mice, and twenty-three are a kind of hedgehog,

and therefore are burrowing animals—they are not at all conspicuous

and must be sought for if we want to observe their habits; and the

ten species of carnivora are also mostly small in size. Leaving for

the present the carnivora and the rodentia, let me say here what

can be said of interest about a group of small animals which are

in habit and appearance much like the European hedgehogs, being of

the same order (the insect-eaters), but belonging to a distinct

family, the Centetidæ, which, except for one genus, are peculiar to

Madagascar. Some of these animals have a covering of strong spines,

while in other species this consists rather of firm prickly hairs,

which, however, do not cover the whole of the body. The larger kinds,

called _Tràndraka_ by the Malagasy, are used by them for food, and

have very much the taste of pork. (I have eaten them once or twice,

but they are rather rich and greasy.) They are found in the woods,

but especially in the scattered brushwood in the vicinity of the

forests; and we occasionally met with two or three varieties of these

harmless creatures while rambling in the outskirts of the woods. Our

dog often chased and attempted to worry them, but she usually came

back with her mouth and nose stuck full of prickles and looking like

a pincushion, and apparently very uncomfortable.

[Sidenote: THE TAIL-LESS TENREC]

The tail-less tenrec (_Centetes ecaudatus_) is the largest and

best known of its family. Its manner of life is remarkable, for

it passes half the year, the cold season, in a profound sleep, in

a burrow which it excavates about May or June. The female is very

prolific, bringing forth from twelve to twenty-two young ones,

which are bravely defended by the mother against every enemy. Their

food consists chiefly of earthworms, and also of roots, fruits and

insects. They sleep almost constantly during the day, while they are

very active during the night; and what has been here said of the

_Tràndraka_ as to habits, food, etc., may be taken as representing

what might be said of most of the Centetidæ. The striped tenrec is

about the size of a mole, and is streaked with black and yellow, as

are indeed the young of other species. The spiny tenrec is much like

our European hedgehog, as it is covered with strong spines, and can

roll itself up into a ball when attacked. Another species, called

_Sòra_ by the natives, is about five inches long. A female of this

kind was one day brought to us for sale, together with eight or nine

tiny young ones only a few days old. These were prettily banded with

yellow and brown stripes, their hair being still soft. They were

about the size of a large egg, and a most curious little family of

creatures they looked. The rice tenrec inhabits the plains between

the two lines of forest, and does immense injury to the rice crops

by burrowing into the earth and rooting up the young plants. Another

species (and genus) is strikingly modified for aquatic life, having

webbed toes, and a thick and powerful tail. The smallest species

known is only two inches long, with a tail of three inches. Small as

the animals of this family are, they are remarkable from the fact

that in no equally confined area are they represented by so many

peculiar types as in Madagascar. But it is still more remarkable that

the only other known genus of Centetidæ is found in the West India

Islands; two portions of the same family being separated from each

other by an extensive continent as well as by a deep ocean.

[Illustration: SOME CURIOUS MADAGASCAR SPIDERS.

Epeira Coquerelii

Gasteracantha madagas^{sis}

Epeira mitralis _back_ _side_ _front_

Gasteracantha formosa

Thomisus foka]

[Sidenote: LEMURS]

These sketches of the forest would be very incomplete without

saying something about what are the most characteristic animals of

Madagascar—viz. the lemurs; for though there are a few allied forms

found in Africa on the one side, and in Southern Asia on the other,

this island is _the_ home of Lemuroid animals. It was indeed proposed

to call a supposed former continent in the Indian Ocean by the name

of “Lemuria.” It must be said, however, that there are few of them to

be seen in the neighbourhood of the sanatorium, although the cries of

some may be heard, a strange long-drawn-out wailing sound, as if of

people in distress, or children crying. Yet it was always a pleasant

sound to me, as a sign of life, and probably of enjoyment, in these

active and harmless denizens of the woods. There are no fewer than

thirty-nine different species of these animals living in Madagascar,

of which twenty-nine are the true lemurs, while the other ten are

closely allied to them and are lemur-like (Lemuroida). The eastern

and north-eastern forests contain about a third of the larger

number; and M. Grandidier has pointed out that while some species

have a wide range, others have a very distinctly defined habitat,

which is frequently limited by two rivers, one to the north and the

other to the south of their district.

Three species of the Propitheques (Lemuroida) are known by the

Malagasy under the common name of _Sìmpona_. They live in companies

of from six to eight, and are diurnal animals; one may see them

morning and evening, when the heat is not too great, leaping in

the woods from tree to tree in search of food. Often they may be

surprised at sunrise, says M. Grandidier, squatting on the fork of

a tree, their long legs bent under them, touching the chin, their

hands resting on their knees, stretching out their arms and legs

so as not to lose a single ray of the newly risen sun. The food of

these animals is entirely vegetable; and they are formed for purely

arboreal life, for there is a membrane along the arms and legs which

acts, to a certain extent, as a parachute, so that they make leaps

of from twenty-five to thirty feet without apparent effort, and they

seem to fly through the air. On the rare occasions when they leave

the woods they advance by leaps, as if their feet were tied together,

and have a most comical appearance as they go across a bit of open

ground. One of these sìmpona is silvery-grey in colour, with black

head and neck; another is entirely white, except for its dark brown

face; and a third species is black or dark brown in colour. Of the

true lemurs, I had the good fortune once to see a pair of the kind

called red lemur (_Lemur varius_, var. _ruber_) cross a path near

the house; these were large and handsome animals, warm reddish-brown

in colour, and took astonishing leaps in a most graceful manner; but

they were out of sight in an instant, and I can easily believe what

is said by collectors, that it is easier to shoot a flying bird than

a lemur in motion.

In the small streams which occur at the bottom of many of the

ravines, we may often come across the curious nests of the pensile

weaver-bird (_Ploceus pensilis_), which are beautifully and

ingeniously constructed, shaped like an inverted chemical retort,

and are suspended from the extremities of the branches of the trees

and usually over running water. These nests are about a foot or

fourteen inches long, the bulb giving ample room for the eggs or

nestlings, and the tube, forming the entrance from below, being

three to four inches in diameter. The native name for this species,

_Fòdifètsy_—_i.e._ the “Crafty Fòdy”—recognises this skill of the

bird in protecting its young. The nests of another species are large

and simply globular in shape, and, from thirty to forty in number,

may be seen hanging from a single tree. The Madagascar bee-eater is

one of the most beautiful birds to be seen in the forest, both from

its elegance of form and its bright colouring of various shades of

green (_Merops superciliosus_). It has a very long curved beak, and

an extremely long tail, with two long feathers extending beyond the

others. Its nests are excavated about a foot deep on a sand-bank

bordering streams.

[Sidenote: COUAS]

Another group of birds, also conspicuous from their size and

colouring, must be noticed here—viz. the couas, a genus of cuckoos

peculiar to Madagascar, and of which twelve species are known. They

are large and handsomely coloured, and are, says M. Grandidier,

strictly local in their habitat, most of them being confined to one

district, out of which they are never found. Five species of coua

inhabit the forests or wooded regions, while the other seven live

on the plains. The blue coua (_Coua cerulea_), the only species I

have seen in the upper forest, is fairly common, and is conspicuous

from its colouring; while the crested coua is found all over

the wooded regions. One of the twelve species goes from rock to

rock, seeking the large land-shells which form its principal food

(_Coua delalandei_). These molluscs it breaks by striking their

shells against a stone, from which habit comes its native name of

_Famàki-sìfotra_, or “snail-breaker.”

But several chapters would be required to say all that might be said

of interest about the birds inhabiting the upper belt of woods, and

I will not weary my readers by further descriptions, in this place

at least. I will conclude this chapter by quoting a few sentences

written about the wonder and mystery of the Madagascar forests by

my late friend, Mr Baron; for no one knew better than he did how to

explore and how to describe them.

After speaking of the fatigue of travelling in the forest, Mr Baron

says:

“But the true lover of Nature almost loses any sense of fatigue

in the excitement and pleasure afforded by the infinitely varied

and beautiful forms of vegetable and animal life that are around

him. The tall trees of innumerable species, in fierce competition

with their neighbours, rearing their great trunks heavenwards that

they may spread out their foliage, and open their blossoms in the

light above, the fantastic foldings and twistings of the snake-like

lianas, the countless shapes and tints of the leaves, the bright

colours of some brilliant beetle, the delicately traced wing design

of some happy butterfly, the merry chirping of some gaily adorned

bird, the hurried steps of the busy little ants, the languid

movements of a chameleon, with its strange skin and stranger eyes,

the patient watching for prey of a red three-cornered spider, the

tiny mosses and delicate ferns nestling snugly among their big

brothers under the rocks—all these and a thousand other objects of

interest and beauty help one to forget the exertion and the toil

caused by the difficulties of the road, and make one feel that

it is with a lavish and artistic hand that their great Maker has

formed and bedecked them all. Moreover, there is in travelling in

the forest a strange and fascinating illusion, a vague feeling of

expectancy, which persistently recurs, in spite of disappointment,

that somewhere on in front something of exceptional interest will

be found.”

[Sidenote: A NIGHT IN THE FOREST]

I have of course, during many journeys in Madagascar, spent many a

night in small villages surrounded by forest, but I have not had

quite the experiences described by Mr Baron in another passage which

I shall venture to quote. Mr Baron says:

[Sidenote: NOCTURNAL NOISES]

“To spend a night in the forest is an experience worth having.

Bivouacked in some open glade, through which a small stream

creeps lazily along, with a warm cheering fire to keep off the

dew and chill of the night, one gains a quite different knowledge

of the forest from that which one gets in the daytime, for all

nature is not asleep even in the midnight hour. Just as darkness

is setting in the fireflies with their tiny lanterns flit about

among the bushes; and the cicada, of various species, perched on

the trunks of trees, commence their strange song. They are small

in size, but certainly they make a big din. Well may the Malagasy

proverb say: ‘Don’t be like the cicada, whose voice fills the

whole valley, though the creature itself is but a mouthful.’ The

sound it makes is not a buzz-z exactly, and it is not a hum-m-m.

It is a deafening, unceasing, rasping, irritating monotone. As

the darkness increases, various nocturnal creatures come forth

from their hiding-places, and every now and then pounce on their

unconscious prey. Keep awake a while and listen to the strange and,

for the most part, mysterious sounds. Suddenly there is a terrific

scream. Some bird or beastie finds itself all at once in the jaws

of death. And what is that ceaseless creaking throughout the night?

Fancy or fear pictures some strange hobgoblin; it is, however,

nothing but the leaves of a screw-pine twisted and strained by the

breeze. And what is that remarkable string of sounds for all the

world like water bubbling out a bottle? It is the _Tolòho_, a kind

of cuckoo, disturbed in its night’s repose. And then, at regular

intervals, ‘_kow-kow-koo, kow-kow-koo_’; what is that? Another

cuckoo, the _Kankàfotra_, which never seems to go to sleep. From

the stream or marsh close by there rises the unmusical croak of

the frogs. After an interval of silence, you first of all hear a

single croak, then another, and another, until gradually there

arises a perfect chorus, which is kept up throughout the night. The

tree-frogs also, perched on the leaves, not a whit behind their

cousins in the marsh, pass the night in croaking. Numerous other

strange and weird noises are to be heard during the night in the

forest, but from what throats they proceed it is beyond me to say.”

[Illustration: Epeira Madagascariensis]

CHAPTER XIV

ROUND ANTSIHÀNAKA

Some years ago I was asked to accompany two gentlemen on a journey to

one of the then least-known provinces of Madagascar, that occupied

by the Sihànaka or lake-dwellers. Two of our party took surveying

instruments with them, and we were thus able to prepare the first

accurate map of the Antsihànaka province.

My companions on this journey were the late Rev. Dr Mullens, then

Foreign Secretary of the London Missionary Society, and the late Rev.

John Pillans, one of the directors of the same society, and most

pleasant and genial companions they were. Dr Mullens was very fond

of a joke and enjoyed recalling humorous passages from Dickens or

from _Punch_; he was also a born geographer and had a wonderful eye

for the beautiful and the picturesque in scenery. Mr Pillans was a

graver man, but one of solid worth and good judgment; and in the tent

which we carried with us we three had many a happy evening together.

Like all journeys made in those days, this one was performed in the

_filanjàna_ or light palanquin; and not only did Dr Mullens, with

an azimuth compass, take angles and bearings for the map, but he

also took a number of photographs all along our route. I had with me

a good theodolite, so that we were able to compare and check each

other’s observations.

A few words may be said here about the position of the Antsihànaka

province. Repeated reference has been already made in this book to

the double belt of forest which runs for several hundred miles along

the eastern side of Madagascar. A glance at a physical map of the

island will show that, at about the seventeenth parallel of south

latitude, this double line unites into one broader belt, becoming

very wide west of Antongil Bay. It is the open country south of the

junction of the two forests that forms the home of the Sihànaka

tribe. This valley or plain, for it is enclosed on each side by

forest-covered ranges of hills, is about thirty miles across; it is

perfectly level, and the greater portion of it is marsh; and at the

north-eastern corner of the marsh is a fine lake called Alaotra,

which communicates with the sea by the river Màningòry. It seems

probable that the people came up from the coast by the valley of

this river, and then settled on the edges of the plain, as their

villages are most numerous around the north-eastern bay of the lake;

while there is a large tract of fertile country to the south of

them which is almost entirely without inhabitants. The name of the

people is no doubt derived from the character of the country they

inhabit, for the verb _mihànaka_ means to spread out as a liquid,

as ink on blotting-paper, for instance. _Hànaka_ is also used as

a synonym for the words meaning lake, pool, etc. Until about the

commencement of the past century the Sihànaka were independent of any

external authority, but at that period they were conquered by the

Hova, although not without a severe struggle. After that they quietly

submitted to the central government, and until the French conquest

(1895) their two chief towns were garrisoned by Hova officers and

soldiers, as at the time of our visit. No European missionary had

then lived in Antsihànaka, and the congregations and schools we saw,

wherever we went, were largely the result of the work of a Hova

evangelist, who lived among the people for two or three years.[16]

[Sidenote: THE SIHÀNAKA]

After two days’ journey over high moory country, and then over a

range of mountains called Ambòhitsitàkatra, from which we took a

number of compass bearings, we arrived on a Friday afternoon at the

village of Anjozòrobé (“At much papyrus”), a place containing about

seventy houses pretty closely packed together within a circular

fence of prickly pear and other spiny shrubs. It was built on rising

ground overlooking a level plain to the north-west, evidently a

former lake-bottom, through which the river Mànanàra flows in a very

serpentine course to join the Bétsibòka. We crossed the river, here

about thirty yards wide, with a strong body of water, by a bridge

of two massive balks of timber supported by a rough pier of stones

in the centre, and then ascended by a very steep path to the neat

chapel, which stood in a compound a little way from the village. We

took up our quarters in this clean whitewashed building; and here I

may remark that in former times the rude village chapels generally

formed the missionary’s “Travellers’ Bungalow.” They were usually

not encumbered with pews or seats, or, indeed, much furniture or

fittings of any kind; they were more roomy than the native houses and

generally much cleaner, at least they had no soot hanging in festoons

from the roof; so that they formed very convenient resting-places for

a missionary traveller, and a favourable place for meeting the people

and prescribing for their ailments.

We had intended to proceed northwards on the following day, but as we

had to pass through the inner belt of forest and enter on entirely

unknown ground, as to which we could get no definite information

with regard to villages or congregations, we eventually determined

to stay at Anjozòrobé over the Sunday. Saturday morning was occupied

in ascending a mountain, four or five miles distant to the north

(Ambòhimiàrimbé—_i.e._ “The High Uplifting One”), to take bearings,

etc., and the afternoon in taking photographs of the village and

river valley.

[Sidenote: AN EXTENSIVE VIEW]

On Monday morning we resumed our journey northward, and towards

midday entered the belt of forest which covers that western line of

hills of which I have already spoken. We had been approaching it

obliquely in a north-north-east direction for the last two days.

An ascent of about five hundred feet brought us to the summit,

for the road passes along the narrow knife-edge-like ridge of the

very highest point, a hill called Ambàravàrambàto (“At the Stone

Gateway”), having two heads of almost equal height, with a depression

between them. These points, from their peculiar outline, gave us a

useful landmark to connect our journey northwards with the ground we

had already traversed. Soon after noon we stopped for a few minutes

at the top, and had an extensive view all around us. North and south,

the line of forest-covered hills dividing Imèrina from the lower

plateau of Ankay stretched away on either hand into the far distance.

Behind us were the bare hills and downs of Imèrina, before us the

Ankay plain, many of the low hills covered, and almost every valley

filled, with bright green woods. Beyond this were lines of hills

increasing in height until they met the mountains of Béfòrona and

Anàlamazàotra, clothed with the broader of the two belts of forest

which run down the eastern side of Madagascar. Far to the north

in the dim distance we could just see the southern portion of the

Antsihànaka plain. A very steep descent, first down an exceedingly

rugged kind of stone staircase, and then through dense wood, hardly

allowing passage for the palanquin in several places, brought us down

to a charming valley between two great spurs of the hills. After

about an hour more we came to a little village, where we were glad

to get some rest and food after six or seven hours’ hard travelling.

The aneroid informed us that we had descended more than one thousand

two hundred feet from the summit of the hill, and about seven hundred

feet from the upper plateau of Imèrina. We had to pitch the tent in

the open plain that night, for a village of which we had heard, and

had expected to be a good-sized place, proved to be only a collection

of eight or nine miserable huts, scattered about in twos and threes.

[Sidenote: ANT-HILLS]

The following day our journey northward was over a pleasant

undulating country, but almost entirely uninhabited; here and there

were solitary houses far apart from each other, but no villages.

On the bare downs we frequently came across ant-hills, about two

feet high and formed of the greyish soil. It is said by the people

all over the island that a serpent called _Rènivìtsika_ (_i.e._

“mother of ants”) is enticed by these ants into its nest, and is

then fattened, killed and eaten by them. The Hova in the centre of

the island, the Bétsiléo in the south, the Sàkalàva in the west, and

Sihànaka in the north-east, all affirm that this is a fact; and it

seems difficult to doubt their united testimony. After a long ride of

six hours we at last came to a group of six or seven houses called

Andrànokòbaka, where we rested for a time and had tiffin. This place

appeared to be the first of the Sihànaka villages from the south.

There was an evident difference in the appearance of the people; the

women reminded me of the Bétsimisàraka on the east coast, and both

men and women had their hair plaited in a great number of little

ropes ending in a knot, and hanging loosely all round the head. The

women and children, even those who had no kind of clothing, all had

some kind of ornament: necklaces of red beads or silver chains, and

armlets of silver, a striking contrast to the lower class of Hovas,

who only put on ornaments on extraordinary occasions. The village

smelt strongly of _tòaka_, the native rum, and the quantities of

chopped sugar-cane, from which the spirit is made, lying about the

place, all told of the liking of the people for strong drink.

[Illustration: SIHÀNAKA MEN WITH MEAT BASKETS

Note how the làmba is worn]

[Illustration: A FOREST VILLAGE

Note the baskets for carrying fowls against the doorway of the house]

[Sidenote: THE DRINK EVIL]

This indeed is one of the flagrant evils common among the Sihànaka,

as it is also of many of the outlying tribes. My friend, Mr

Stribling, who lived among these people for several years, gives the

following incident illustrating the power which rum has over them:—

“Calling at a village one day for shelter from a sudden storm, we

were most graciously received by a native, who was decidedly ‘the

worse’ for drink. Wishing to be sociable, however, I said to my

host, ‘Well, my friend, how many horns of rum can you drink before

becoming drunk?’ (The Sihànaka use the horns of oxen instead of

glasses, for drinking.) In a most friendly manner the man replied,

‘Well, I can drink three hornfuls at least’ (about one and a half

quarts). ‘How much water would you mix with it?’ ‘Water! why,

we never put water into the rum, that would make it insipid.’

Thereupon, turning to a little girl about six years old, the man

said, ‘This is my daughter, a scholar in your mission school at

Ambàndrika.’ ‘And does she also drink rum?’ ‘Of course, why not?’

He then told me that the baby, a year old, who was also present,

was a son of his. ‘And does he also drink rum?’ ‘O dear, no! he is

still only a fool.’ ‘Then he will drink it when he becomes wise?’

‘Of course he will; we all drink it when we come to understand what

is good.’”

We encamped again in the open grassy plain, near two or three houses

and a cattle-fold; and the following morning proceeded on our journey

to the north-north-east. An hour and a half’s ride brought us to two

considerable villages near an extensive rice-valley. Here we were

surprised to see the fields dotted over with round stacks of rice

with conical heads, much like those in an English farmyard. And we

also found that here and all through Antsihànaka the rice is not

transplanted, as in Imèrina, but after the ground has been trampled

over by oxen the seed is sown broadcast, and the rice grows there

until it is fit for cutting. After leaving these villages we began to

mount a line of hills which forms the eastern boundary of the more

level portion of the Ankay valley; and on reaching its summit we saw

before us the vast green plain of Antsihànaka stretching away to the

northward, level as a lake, with long lines of promontory jutting out

into it from the north-west and south-east, and a few low rounded

hills rising out of it like islands from a sea. In the far north-east

the waters of the lake Alaotra gleamed in the sunshine. To the south

and east of the plain we could see several large villages, but the

chief town, Ambàtondrazàka, was hidden from view by an intervening

line of hill. We crossed ridge after ridge and valley after valley,

hoping each would prove the last. The path over one of these valleys,

a mile and a half wide, was especially difficult; a narrow winding

track amongst swamp, prickly bamboo, enormous papyrus and rushes,

with here and there deep running streams, whose only bridge was a

slippery round pole partly under water; so that we afterwards spoke

of it as “the great dismal swamp!” But we met with others equally

bad, if not worse, on our subsequent journeys round the plain, and

the passage seemed not nearly so formidable on our return.

[Sidenote: GRASSES]

I was struck here, as well as in many other parts of the district, by

the remarkable and varied fragrance of the wild plants growing among

the grass. The scents appeared to me as equally a convincing proof

as the sights and sounds that one was really in a tropical country.

And here, as we have been travelling for several days over country

that is chiefly bare moor (except the narrow belt of forest at the

“Stone Gateway”), I may appropriately say something about the grasses

of Madagascar, which must attract the attention of every observant

traveller. They are of great variety and beauty, and prominent among

them are different species of _Véro_. Of these the one called simply

_Véro_ rises to a height of eight or ten feet, and has a head of

flowers somewhat like oats, but much longer. This tall grass presents

a varied appearance at different stages of its growth. When in full

flower, the heads contain a large number of oat-like seeds with

long awns, but later on the seeds fall off, and at the head of each

little branchlet there appears a minute tuft of feathery plumes, like

little stars, giving the grass quite a different aspect from its

first one. Another species, called _Vérontsànjy_, has a still more

beautiful floral crown, and is as tall as the first-named one, but

not so common. These two grasses, when seen in a mass, give a warm

brown tint to the spots where they grow. In some parts, however, a

much shorter grass, of a pale buff colour, is the prevailing growth.

In other places, another very tall grass called _Famòa_ flourishes;

this is a light graceful grass, with fine branchlets from its head,

and the seeds showing prominently; and the whole is of a delicate

pea-green colour. Then there are other grasses, which are richly

marked with shades of dark red or purple, displaying masses of these

tints when seen from a little distance. The shorter grasses are not

less beautiful than the taller species just mentioned; but without

coloured drawings it is impossible to give any adequate idea of their

charm and variety.

[Sidenote: THEIR HEIGHT]

There is one thing especially which strikes a European newly come

into the country with regard to the Madagascar grasses, and that is,

the height to which they grow, if left undisturbed. In sheltered

valleys and other places not reached by the fires which sweep over

the downs in the dry season, the grass grows considerably above

one’s head, so that I have felt how soon one might be lost in

certain conditions. After the year of rebellion against French rule

in 1896, I found the véro and other grasses grown as high as I was

when sitting in my palanquin—about eight feet above the ground.

For several months large tracts of country had been desolate and

left uncultivated, and were returning to a state of nature. And in

many places, at every few yards, we disturbed coveys of partridges

or quails or other wild birds, which had greatly multiplied in the

depopulated country.

Soon after four o’clock we mounted the last low ridge, and

Ambàtondrazàka lay before us, about a mile and a half distant. The

town, which consisted of about four hundred houses, is situated on a

low peninsula projecting from the hills on the southern side of the

plain. It had a pleasant, civilised appearance after the wretched

huts we had seen for the last two or three days. A broad road running

down from the hill seemed to divide the town into two pretty nearly

equal parts. West of this road a large substantial chapel showed out

conspicuously, and on the opposite side was the square palisaded

enclosure called the _ròva_, filled with the houses of the Hova

officers and soldiers who formed the garrison of the place. At the

north-east corner of the enclosure the _làpa_, or government house,

a two-storeyed building surrounded by verandahs, stood out prominent

above the rows of smaller houses. We soon established ourselves

inside the chapel, which was well built of clay walls with brick

gables, ninety feet long by thirty-six broad, with good doors and

windows, all well finished. The walls were smoothly plastered and

whitened, and the floor was covered with fine mats, all sewn together.

[Sidenote: A VISIT TO THE GOVERNOR]

Sending in our letters of introduction to the Governor, we were in

a few minutes invited to go over and see him. Passing through the

double lines of palisading and the rows of Hova houses, we came to

the _làpa_, inside an inner enclosure of its own. Entering the large

room on the ground floor, we found the Governor waiting to receive

us. His chief officers and the civil authorities were seated round

two sides of the room, and a number of the lower class squatted on

the floor on the third side, while on the fourth side three chairs

were placed for us. As soon as we were seated, the Governor, a tall

elderly man, receiving us most cordially, addressed us with a formal

speech, after the custom of the Malagasy officials to anyone who

came from the capital; and as this may serve as an example of the

way in which we were received in all the principal places, I will

give it pretty fully; it was in the following form:—“Since you,

gentlemen, have come from the capital, we ask of you, How is Queen

Rànavàlona, sovereign of the land? How is Rainibaiàrivòny, Prime

Minister, protector of the kingdom? How is our father, Rainingòry

(the oldest officer in the army, nearly a hundred years old)? How is

Rainimàharàvo, Chief Secretary of State, chief of the officers of the

palace? How is Rabé (son of the preceding)? How is the kingdom of

Ambòhimànga and Antanànarìvo (the ancient and modern capitals)? How

are ‘the-under-the-heaven’ (the people, the subjects)? How are you,

our friends? And how is your fatigue after your journey?” etc. To

these inquiries I, as interpreter to the expedition, gravely replied

_seriatim_, saying that her Majesty was well, that the Prime Minister

was well, etc., etc., and then inquired how the Governor and his

officers, and the people of the town and neighbourhood were. We then

had more general and less formal conversation, in which I explained

the objects of our visit to Antsihànaka, and our proposed route round

the district.

[Illustration: A WAYSIDE MARKET

The umbrellas are to protect the vendors and goods from the sun.

Beef, soap, candles, cooked rice, manioc, etc., are exposed for sale]

The Governor then courteously led us by the hand back to the chapel,

where he joined us in our dinner; and as soon as that was finished

asked us to come outside. Here we found a quantity of provisions

brought for us and our bearers; baskets of rice, geese, fowls, yams,

and a large fat pig (a most unwilling offering _he_ was, and loudly

protested against the whole business). In a formal speech, as soon

as silence could be obtained, the Governor offered these things to

us, saying that the provisions presented were not theirs, but the

Queen’s, the Prime Minister’s, etc., etc., while _they_ only took

charge of it all (a polite and loyal fiction, by the way, meaning

nothing). We found a comfortable (if somewhat airy) bedroom in the

spacious chapel, which formed a pleasant contrast to the confinement

of our little tent of eleven feet square.

[Sidenote: MARKET DAY]