dogs, rats, cats, and
other vermin, calling for special cautions and constant supervision,
which under the circumstances above described were impossible.

My readers may now partially understand why a travelling naturalist of
limited means, like myself, does so much less than is expected or
than he would himself wish to do. It would be interesting to preserve
skeletons of many birds and animals, reptiles and fishes in spirits,
skins of the larger animals, remarkable fruits and woods and the most
curious articles of manufacture and commerce; but it will be seen
that under the circumstances I have just described, it would have
been impossible to add these to the collections which were my own more
especial favourites. When travelling by boat the difficulties are as
great or greater, and they are not diminished when the journey is by
land. It was absolutely necessary therefore to limit my collections to
certain groups to which I could devote constant personal attention, and
thus secure from destruction or decay what had been often obtained by
much labour and pains.

While Manuel sat skinning his birds of an afternoon, generally
surrounded by a little crowd of Malays and Sassaks (as the indigenes
of Lombock are termed), he often held forth to them with the air of a
teacher, and was listened to with profound attention. He was very fond
of discoursing on the "special providences" of which he believed he was
daily the subject. "Allah has been merciful today," he would say--for
although a Christian he adopted the Mahometan mode of speech--"and has
given us some very fine birds; we can do nothing without him." Then one
of the Malays would reply, "To be sure, birds are like mankind; they
have their appointed time to die; when that time comes nothing can save
them, and if it has not come you cannot kill them." A murmur of assent
follow, until sentiments and cries of "Butul! Butul!" (Right, right.)
Then Manuel would tell a long story of one of his unsuccessful
hunts--how he saw some fine bird and followed it a long way, and then
missed it, and again found it, and shot two or three times at it, but
could never hit it, "Ah!" says an old Malay, "its time was not come, and
so it was impossible for you to kill it." A doctrine is this which is
very consoling to the bad marksman, and which quite accounts for the
facts, but which is yet somehow not altogether satisfactory.

It is universally believed in Lombock that some men have the pow