entomologist can appreciate the delight with which I hunted about for hours in
the hot sunshine, among the branches and twigs and bark of the fallen trees,
every few minutes securing insects which were at that time almost all rare or
new to European collections.
In the shady forest paths were many fine butterflies, most conspicuous among
which was the shining blue Papilio ulysses, one of the princes of the tribe,
though at that time so rare in Europe, I found it absolutely common in Amboyna,
though not easy to obtain in fine condition, a large number of the specimens
being found when captured to have the wings torn or broken. It flies with a
rather weak undulating motion, and from its large size, its tailed wings and
brilliant colour, is one of the most tropical-looking insects the naturalist can gaze
upon.
There is a remarkable contrast between the beetles of Amboyna and those of
Macassar, the latter generally small and obscure, the former large and brilliant.
On the whole, the insects here most resemble those of the Aru islands, but they
are almost always of distinct species, and when they are most nearly allied to
each other, the species of Amboyna are of larger size and more brilliant colours,
so that one might be led to conclude that in passing east and west into a less
favourable soil and climate, they had degenerated into less striking forms.
Of an evening I generally sat reading in the verandah, ready to capture any
insects that were attracted to the light. One night about nine o'clock, I heard a
curious noise and rustling overhead, as if some heavy animal were crawling
slowly over the thatch. The noise soon ceased, and I thought no more about it
and went to bed soon afterwards. The next afternoon just before dinner, being
rather tired with my day's work, I was lying on the couch with a book in my
hand, when gazing upwards I saw a large mass of something overhead which I
had not noticed before. Looking more carefully I could see yellow and black
marks, and thought it must be a tortoise-shell put up there out of the way
between the ridge-pole and the roof. Continuing to gaze, it suddenly resolved
itself into a large snake, compactly coiled up in a kind of knot; and I could detect
his head and his bright eyes in the very centre of the folds. The noise of the
evening before was now explained. A python had climbed up one of the posts of
the house, and had made his way under the thatch within a yard of my head, and
taken up a comfortable position in the roof—and I had slept soundly all night
directly under him.
I called to my two boys who were skinning birds below and said, "Here's a big
snake in the roof;" but as soon as I had shown it to them they rushed out of the
house and begged me to come out directly. Finding they were too much afraid to