At Ayer-panas we had a comfortable house to stay in, and plenty of room to
dry and preserve our specimens; but, owing to there being no industrious
Chinese to cut down timber, insects were comparatively scarce, with the
exception of butterflies, of which I formed a very fine collection. The manner in
which I obtained one fine insect was curious, and indicates how fragmentary and
imperfect a traveller's collection must necessarily be. I was one afternoon
walking along a favourite road through the forest, with my gun, when I saw a
butterfly on the ground. It was large, handsome, and quite new to me, and I got
close to it before it flew away. I then observed that it had been settling on the
dung of some carnivorous animal. Thinking it might return to the same spot, I
next day after breakfast took my net, and as I approached the place was
delighted to see the same butterfly sitting on the same piece of dung, and
succeeded in capturing it. It was an entirely new species of great beauty, and has
been named by Mr. Hewitson—Nymphalis calydona. I never saw another
specimen of it, and it was only after twelve years had elapsed that a second
individual reached this country from the northwestern part of Borneo.
Having determined to visit Mount Ophir, which is situated in the middle of the
peninsula about fifty miles east of Malacca, we engaged six Malays to
accompany us and carry our baggage. As we meant to stay at least a week at the
mountain, we took with us a good supply of rice, a little biscuit, butter and
coffee, some dried fish and a little brandy, with blankets, a change of clothes,
insect and bird boxes, nets, guns and ammunition. The distance from Ayer-panas
was supposed to be about thirty miles.
Our first day's march lay through patches of forest, clearings, and Malay
villages, and was pleasant enough. At night we slept at the house of a Malay
chief, who lent us a verandah, and gave us a fowl and some eggs. The next day
the country got wilder and more hilly. We passed through extensive forests,
along paths often up to our knees in mud, and were much annoyed by the leeches
for which this district is famous. These little creatures infest the leaves and
herbage by the side of the paths, and when a passenger comes along they stretch
themselves out at full length, and if they touch any part of his dress or body, quit
their leaf and adhere to it. They then creep on to his feet, legs, or other part of his
body and suck their fill, the first puncture being rarely felt during the excitement
of walking. On bathing in the evening we generally found half a dozen or a
dozen on each of us, most frequently on our legs, but sometimes on our bodies,
and I had one who sucked his fill from the side of my neck, but who luckily
missed the jugular vein. There are many species of these forest leeches. All are
small, but some are beautifully marked with stripes of bright yellow. They