ion
that the peacock should not be found in Sumatra or Borneo, while the
superb Argus, Fire-backed and Ocellated pheasants of those islands are
equally unknown in Java. Exactly parallel is the fact that in Ceylon
and Southern India, where the peacock abounds, there are none of the
splendid Lophophori and other gorgeous pheasants which inhabit Northern
India. It would seem as if the peacock can admit of no rivals in its
domain. Were these birds rare in their native country, and unknown alive
in Europe, they would assuredly be considered as the true princes of the
feathered tribes, and altogether unrivalled for stateliness and beauty.
As it is, I suppose scarcely anyone if asked to fix upon the most
beautiful bird in the world would name the peacock, any more than the
Papuan savage or the Bugis trader would fix upon the bird of paradise
for the same honour.

Three days after my arrival at Wonosalem, my friend Mr. Ball came to pay
me a visit. He told me that two evenings before, a boy had been killed
and eaten by a tiger close to Modjo-agong. He was riding on a cart drawn
by bullocks, and was coming home about dusk on the main road; and when
not half a mile from the village a tiger sprang upon him, carried him
off into the jungle close by, and devoured him. Next morning his remains
were discovered, consisting only of a few mangled bones. The Waidono had
got together about seven hundred men, and were in chase of the animal,
which, I afterwards heard, they found and killed. They only use spears
when in pursuit of a tiger in this way. They surround a large tract of
country, and draw gradually together until the animal is enclosed in a
compact ring of armed men. When he sees there is no escape he generally
makes a spring, and is received on a dozen spears, and almost instantly
stabbed to death. The skin of an animal thus killed is, of course,
worthless, and in this case the skull, which I had begged Mr. Ball to
secure for me, was hacked to pieces to divide the teeth, which are worn
as charms.

After a week at Wonosalem, I returned to the foot of the mountain, to
a village named Djapannan, which was surrounded by several patches of
forest, and seemed altogether pretty well spited to my pursuits. The
chief of the village had prepared two small bamboo rooms on one side of
his own courtyard to accommodate me, and seemed inclined to assist me
as much as he could. The weather was exceedingly hot and dry, no rain
having fallen for