t part of the island by any means. Do not
suppose, however, that damp is the only enemy to one's toilette here. I
found a snail the other day in my wardrobe which had been journeying
slowly but effectively across some favorite silken skirts. Cockroaches
prefer tulle and net, and eat their way recklessly and rapidly through
choicest lace, besides nibbling every cloth-bound book in the island. On
the other hand, the rats confine their attentions chiefly to the boots and
shoes of the resident, and are at all events good friends to the makers
and sellers of those necessary articles. So, you see, garments are likely
to be a source of more trouble than pleasure to their possessor if he or
she is at all inclined to be always _tire a quatre epingles_.

Except these objectionable creatures, there is not much animal life astir
around me in the belle isle. It is too cold still for the butterflies, and
I do not observe much variety among the birds. There are flocks of minas
always twittering about my lawn--glossy birds very like starlings in their
shape and impudent ways, only with more white in the plumage and with
brilliant orange-colored circles round their eyes. There are plenty of
paroquets, I am told, and cardinal birds, but I have not yet seen them. A
sort of hybrid canary whistles and chirps in the early mornings, and I
hear the shrill wild note of a merle every now and then. Of winged game
there are but few varieties--partridges, quails, guinea-fowl and pigeons
making up the list--but, on the other hand, poultry seems to swarm
everywhere. I never saw such long-necked and long-legged cocks and hens in
my life as I see here; but these feathered giraffes appear to thrive
remarkably well, and scratch and cackle around every Malabar hut. I have
not seen a sheep or a goat since I arrived, nor a cow or bullock grazing.
The milch cows are all stall-fed. The bullocks go straight from shipboard
to the butcher, and the horses are never turned out. This is partly
because there is no pasturage, the land being used entirely for sugar-cane
or else left in small patches of jungle. As might be expected from such a
volcanic-looking island, the surface of the ground is extremely stony, but
the sugar-cane loves the light soil, and I am told that it thrives best
where the stones are just turned aside and a furrow left for the
cane-plant. After a year or so the furrow is changed by the rocks being
rolled back again into their original places, and