noes do not appear to have been active for many years until about nine months after our author had left the country, when a series of eruptions appear to have taken place 'which in grandeur must have rivalled those described by "Krasheninikof in 1737.' It is curious that the only account of these eruptions is given in the Japan Gazette,' and that two years after their occurrence the fact was unknown both to the Royal and Royal Geographical Societies. It was synchronous with the terrible catastrophe at Krakatau in Java (August 1883); further information, however, is needed on this subject.

Arrived at Ust Kamschatka, near the mouth of the river on the east of the peninsula, the travellers' river journey was practically at an end; they were now only four miles distant from the bar at the mouth of the river. Ascending a lookout tower near the village they soon were gratified. with the sight of the Marchesa' approaching from the south, and thus, after a month's absence, 'hit off the time ' of meeting with an exactness as curious as it was fortu'nate.' The presence of two vessels in the port of Ust Kamschatka, the Marchesa' and the 'Nemo,' a Japanese walrus schooner, whose captain was a Swede, was deemed an occurrence so unusual that it was felt something should be done to celebrate it, so a feast and a ball were accordingly resolved on. The Swedes sent various intoxicating drinks; the supper-table groaned with cold ducks, cranberries, brick tea, and other Kamschatkan delicacies; empty bottles served for candlesticks; the ballroom roof was low, and the 'six feet three' Swedes had their heads among the dried fish and other odds and ends hanging to the rafters; the band was represented by an old fiddler who, for an uninterrupted period of six hours, gave the company the dance music most in fashion in Ust Kamschatka. rank and fashion of the village were present; the fair sex' were represented by fourteen individuals who sat round the room; these ladies were just a wee bit fishy.' For the rest, our author-who is a most amusing writer as well as a man of science-shall tell his own story :

The

'A dance had just ceased as we arrived, and we took our seats in placid ignorance of what was in store for us. Presently the squeak of the fiddle was heard, and instantly the ladies rushed in search of partners. There was a great move in the direction of the two Swedes and the rest of the party; and as became a modest old bachelor I prepared to faire tapisserie with the papas and mammas. But it was destined to be otherwise, for on raising my eyes I found that two fair

damsels were suing for the honour of my hand. . . . The young women were not beautiful. . . . However, there was no time to be lost. The seal-hunter, the American nigger, and the tall Swede were already hard at it, and slipping my arm round the waist of the nearest fair one I plunged blindly into the dance. The affair was simple enough at first. The dance merely consisted in shuffling slowly round the room side by side, the gentleman with his left arm free, the lady accompanying the music with a sort of monotonous chant. Time was of no particular object, and smoking was permitted; and as we had partaken neither of the cranberries nor the corn brandy, we felt as well as could be expected under the circumstances. It was not for long, however. Suddenly the music stopped; everybody clapped hands; and, short and stern, the order rang out in Russian, "Kiss." There are moments in which even the stoutest spirit quails. I turned a despairing glance on my partner, and my heart sank within me. All hope was gone! We all know how in moments of supreme emotion the most trivial details become indelibly stamped upon the mind. The scene is now before me. I saw the redhaired seal-hunter bend down to meet his fate like a hero, his green tie dangling in the air; I saw a gallant officer who had served Her Majesty in many climes struggle nobly to the last. Slowly my partner's arms dragged me down... the lips stole upwards. I nerved myself for a final effort. . . and all was over! Before the next dance I had fled.'

Dr. Guillemard and his party met with good sport near Betchevinskaya Bay, and succeeded in killing several bighorns or Kamschatkan wild sheep (Ovis nivicola, Eschscholtz). This wild sheep frequents the precipitous slopes of the seacliffs, and is also met with in the interior of the peninsula ; they keep in small herds of from three to nine individuals. Of the fourteen specimens obtained all were males, whose ages apparently ranged from three to six years. As an illustration of the abundant sport to be obtained in Kamschatka, the result of two days' visit to Betchevinskaya Bay, the total bag consisted of fourteen big horn, some seals, besides teal, duck, and golden plover. Two bears, though badly hit, managed to escape owing to the denseness of the scrub. The big horn is most delicious meat, and it was 'declared on all hands that no such mutton had ever been <tasted before.' The carcases were salted down and preserved for future use; and the men all agreed that there was no country like Kamschatka, where salmon, grouse, and mutton were to be had for the killing. Dr. Guillemard gives a list of the birds shot or observed by his party during their visit to Kamschatka, from which list, and from others given by Russian naturalists, the recorded species number one hundred and eighty-six.

The stay of the 'Marchesa' in the Sulu Islands, a little group

north-east of Borneo in the Eastern Archipelago, extended over a period of about six weeks. Here, says our author,

I had to contend with the fact that, in many places, that master naturalist, Mr. A. R. Wallace, had preceded us; nothing could be more fortunate for a traveller, nothing more disadvantageous to an author. The "Malay Archipelago" may still be used as the guidebook for those beautiful islands, for they have been almost untouched by the great changes which Europe has witnessed during the last quarter century.'

The extraordinary calmness of the sea of these regions struck our author. Not only was its burnished surface unbroken by a single breath of air, but no trace of swell was visible to mar the glassy plain. Everything was aglow with the heat. Anchoring off Meimbun on the mouth of a little river, a few canoes with bamboo outriggers came on both sides the 'Marchesa,' somewhat mistrustfully, fearing the presence of Spaniards, between whom and the natives there has been war for more than two centuries. However, the sight of their fellow-countrymen-a little rajah with his suite of three Sulu attendants, to whom the Marchesa' was giving a passage from Sandakan, in North Borneo, to Meimbum-soon allayed their suspicions, and the travellers landed in Sulu territory,' where every prospect pleases, with 'the single exception of being mistaken for a Spaniard.'

Dr. Guillemard's descriptions of scenery are always charmingly given, and even without the aid of the admirable illustrations which often accompany them one can almost imagine that one had oneself been among the party of travellers. Of the scenery at Meimbum he writes:

'Had I to introduce my readers to the most un-European scene I know of, I think I should ask him to take a seat with me in a native canoe and paddle up the graceful windings of the Meimbun River. At its mouth the huts, built on seaweed-covered piles, form each a separate island. The floors are raised a bare three feet above the level of the water, and one needs not better evidence of the fact that here at least we are in stormless seas. On the palm-stem platforms in front of the entrance the natives squat, while around are playing half-a-dozen naked little Cupids, now plunging into the water, now paddling races in miniature canoes. A little further, and we enter the river, whose water is so clear and pure and bright that one longs to tumble in, clothes and all. Close to the banks lies the market-place, a picturesque jumble of ponies, ripe bananas, red sarongs, palm-leaf stalls, and flashing spears. Beyond, the sea-going praus are hauled up on shore, their unwieldy sterns a mass of quaint carving. Then through a tiny reach bordered by the Nipa palm, whose graceful fronds, thirty or forty feet in length, spring directly from the stream,

and we find ourselves in a sort of upper town, where the houses are built with seeming indifference either in or out of the water. The place is the absolute perfection of beauty and untidiness. Overhead the eye rests on a wealth of verdure-bamboo, banana, durian, jackfruit, and the arrowy betel-palm, with its golden egg-like nuts. In these happy climes man's needs grow at his very door. Cold and hunger, misery and want, are words without a meaning. Civilisation is far off indeed, and for the moment, at least, we have no desire for it.'

Notwithstanding the proximity of Borneo and the Philippine Islands, their flora and fauna are remarkably distinct. The former is almost typically Indo-Malayan in its zoological features; its flora shows an equally great similarity to that of the Malay peninsula. In its physical aspect also, Borneo, like Java and Sumatra, is connected with the mainland by a submarine bank of great extent, where the soundings are uniformly very shallow; so that at one period of the world's history Borneo was united with and formed the south-eastern limit of the great Asiatic continent. It is different with the Philippine Islands, which are markedly insular in their fauna and flora. Only one species of monkey inhabits the archipelago, while the species found in Borneo and other Indo-Malayan islands are numerous. Elephants, rhinoceros, tapirs, and tigers are absent, and there are only a few small rodents. Among the birds, many Malayan genera are unrepresented; while, on the other hand, cockatoos, brush turkeys (Megapodius), peculiar to the AustroMalayan sub-region of which New Guinea is the central and typical mass, and numerous species of pigeons, inhabit the Philippines. The flora, as far as is known, shows similar peculiarities: many typical Malayan genera are absent, while a large Australian and Austro-Malayan element is present in the archipelago. Dr. Guillemard's visit in the Sulu islands resulted in an ornithological collection of more than two hundred specimens, comprising sixty-four genera. Before the Marchesa' arrived, very little was known of the zoology of the archipelago. Dr. Guillemard's list, though by no means an exhaustive one, is more than sufficient to show the 'main source from which the bird life of the archipelago is derived,' so that Sulu is geographically purely Philippine, 'just as it is politically by the treaty of 1885.'

The history of the archipelago would consist of little else than a record of the constant civil wars which have raged between the natives and the hated Castilians since the time of their seizure of the Philippines, and their efforts to establish

their power in Sulu. By an agreement between England, Spain, and Germany (in 1885), the sovereignty of Spain is recognised over the entire archipelago; i.e. all the islands lying between Mindanao and the coast of Borneo. Spain renounces all claim to North Borneo and a few small islands adjacent in favour of England, and acknowledges British sovereignty over all the islands within three miles of the mainland of North Borneo; and it is stipulated that there shall be perfect freedom of commerce and navigation in the Sulu Archipelago. Of the various interesting matters which presented themselves to the travellers in the Sulu Islands we have no space to speak; we will only notice the tree which the Sulus plant in their cemetery near to the carved wooden monuments-this is a species of Michelia, called by the natives the dead man's flower-tree.

'Buddhist and Mohammedan alike plant the Champac above their dead; so should we, too, I think, did our climate permit it. Day after day throughout the year the tree blossoms. Day after day the delicately creamy corollas fall entire upon the grave, retaining both their freshness and their fragrance, unlike any other flower. For how long after they have closed over our loved ones are our graves decorated, I wonder? Here Nature, kindlier-hearted and unforgetful, year after year lays her daily offering of Champac blossoms upon the tomb.'

At Kudat, in British North Borneo, where the party stayed a week, Dr. Guillemard was able to add considerably to his zoological collection. In one of the morning's rambles along the pleasant jungle walks and long stretches of beach, fringed with Cycas and Casuarina, our author came across a small bird (Mixornis bornensis) fast entangled in the web of a spider of the genus Nephila.

'These structures in the tropical forests of this part of the world are often of large size and great strength; but I was astonished to find that they were sufficiently strong to capture a bird which, in this instance, was as large as a goldfinch. For the moment my feelings of humanity overpowered me, and I released the captive; but directly afterwards I regretted that I had done so, as the conclusion of the drama might have been of interest. The spider, though evidently somewhat deterred by his unusually large capture and the violent shakings of the web, showed no intention of flight, and quietly watched the issue of events close by.'

It was during his visit to these parts that Dr. Guillemard and his fellow-travellers became the fortunate possessors of the best pet that ever took up his quarters on board the ""Marchesa." One day Mr. Gueritz, the Resident of