'Tristram Shandy,' which I read through about three times. It is an annoying and, you will perhaps say, a very gross book; but there are passages in it that have never been surpassed, while the character of Uncle Toby has, I think, never been equalled, except perhaps by that of Don Quixote. I have lately read a good many of Dumas's wonderful novels, and they are wonderful, but often very careless and some quite unfinished. 'The Memoirs of a Physician' is a wonderful wild mixture of history, science, and romance; the second part, the Queen's Necklace, being the most wonderful and, perhaps, the most true. You should read it, if you have not yet done so, when you are horribly bored!

"In reference to your private communication, it seems to me that marriage has a wonderful effect in brightening the intellect. For example, John used not to be considered witty; yet in his last letter he begs me to write to him 'semi-occasionally,' or 'oftener if I have time,' and I send a not bad extract from his letter. By this mail I send more than a dozen letters, for my correspondence is increasing."

On my return to Ternate in April, 1859, after spending nearly six months in Batchian, where I had made fairly good though not very large collections, including a new and very peculiar bird of paradise and a grand new butterfly of the largest size and most gorgeous colouring, I determined to go next to Timor for a short time, and afterward to Menado, at the north-eastern extremity of Celebes, from which place some of the most interesting birds and mammalia had been obtained. I had, of course, my usual large batch of letters to reply to. One of these from my brother-in-law, Mr. Thomas Sims, urged me very strongly to return home before my health was seriously affected, and for many other reasons. In my reply I gave full expressions to my ideas and feelings compelling me to remain a few years longer, and as these are a part of the history of my life and character, I will give them here.

"Your ingenious arguments to persuade me to come home are quite unconvincing. I have much to do yet before

I can return with satisfaction of mind; were I to leave now I should be ever regretful and unhappy. That alone is an all-sufficient reason. I feel that my work is here as well as my pleasure; and why should I not follow out my vocation? As to materials for work at home, you are in error. I have, indeed, materials for a life's study of entomology, as far as the forms and structure and affinities of insects are concerned; but I am engaged in a wider and more general study-that of the relations of animals to space and time, or, in other words, their geographical and geological distribution and its causes. I have set myself to work out this problem in the Indo-Australian Archipelago, and I must visit and explore the largest number of islands possible, and collect materials from the greatest number of localities, in order to arrive at any definite results. As to health and life, what are they compared with peace and happiness? and happiness is admirably defined in the Family Herald as to be best obtained by 'work with a purpose, and the nobler the purpose the greater the happiness.' But besides these weighty reasons there are others quite as powerful-pecuniary ones. I have not yet made enough to live upon, and I am likely to make it quicker here than I could in England. In England there is only one way in which I could live, by returning to my old profession of land-surveying. Now, though I always liked surveying, I like collecting better, and I could never now give my whole mind to any work apart from the study to which I have devoted my life. So far from being angry at being called an enthusiast (as you seem to suppose), it is my pride and glory to be worthy to be so called. Who ever did anything good or great who was not an enthusiast? The majority of mankind are enthusiasts only in one thing—in money-getting; and these call others enthusiasts as a term of reproach because they think there is something in the world better than money-getting. It strikes me that the power or capability of a man in getting rich is in an inverse proportion to his reflective powers and in direct proportion to his impudence. It is perhaps good to be rich, but not to get rich, or to be always trying to get rich, and few men

are less fitted to get rich, if they did try, than myself." The rest of the letter is devoted to new discoveries in photography and allied subjects.

I left Ternate by the Dutch mail steamer on May 1, 1859, calling at Amboyna and spending two days at Banda, where I visited the celebrated nutmeg plantations, reaching Coupang, at the west end of Timor, on the 13th. The country round proving almost a desert for a collector, I went to the small island of Semau, where I obtained a few birds, but little else. I therefore returned to Coupang after a week and determined to go back the way I came by Amboyna and Ternate to Menado, in order to lose no time, and arrived there on June 10. Here I remained for four months in one of the most interesting districts in the whole archipelago. I visited several localities in the interior, and obtained a number of the rare and peculiar species of birds and a considerable collection of beetles and butterflies, mostly rare or new, but by no means so numerous as I had obtained in other good localities.

In October I returned to Amboyna in order to visit the almost unknown island of Ceram, which, however, I found very unproductive and unhealthy. While there I wrote a short letter to Bates, congratulating him on his safe return to England, discussing great schemes for the writing and publication of works on our respective collections, adding, "I have sent a paper lately to the Linnean Society which gives my views of the principles of geographical distribution in the archipelago, of which I hope some day to work out the details." 1

In December, being almost starved, I returned to Amboyna to recruit, and in February started on another journey to Ceram, with the intention, if possible, of again reaching the Ké Islands, which I had found so rich during the few days I stayed there on my voyage to the Aru Islands. I visited several places on the coast of Ceram, and spent three days very near its centre, where a very rough mountain path

The title of this paper was "On the Zoological Geography of Malay Archipelago," and it was published in 1860.

VOL. I.

2 B

crosses from the south to the north coast. But never in the whole of my tropical wanderings have I found a luxuriant forest so utterly barren of almost every form of animal life. Though I had three guns out daily, I did not get a single bird worth having; beetles, too, were totally wanting; and the very few butterflies seen were most difficult to capture. Those who imagine that a tropical forest in the very midst of so rich a region as the Moluccas must produce abundance of birds and insects, would have been woefully disillusioned if they could have been with me here. After immense difficulties I reached Goram, about fifty miles beyond the east end of Ceram, where I purchased a boat and started for Ké; but after getting half-way, the weather was so bad and the winds so adverse that I was obliged to return to the Matabello Islands, and thence by way of Goram and the north coast of Ceram to the great island of Waigiou. This was a long and most unfortunate voyage, as fully described elsewhere. I found there, however, what I chiefly went for-the rare red bird of paradise (Paradisea rubra); but during the three months I lived there, often with very little food, I obtained only about seventy species of birds, mostly the same as those from New Guinea, though a few species of parrots, pigeons, kingfishers, and other birds were new. Insects were never abundant, but by continued perseverance I obtained rather more species of both butterflies and beetles than at New Guinea, though fewer, I think, of the more showy kinds.

The voyage from Waigiou back to Ternate was again most tedious and unfortunate, occupying thirty-eight days, whereas with reasonably favourable weather it should not have required more than ten or twelve. Taking my whole voyage in this canoe from Goram to Waigiou and Ternate, I thus summarize my account of it in my "Malay Archipelago": "My first crew ran away in a body; two men were lost on a desert island, and only recovered a month later after twice sending in search of them; we were ten times run aground on coral reefs; we lost four anchors; our sails were devoured by rats; our small boat was lost astern; we were thirty-eight days on a voyage which should not have taken twelve; we

were many times short of food and water; we had no compass-lamp owing to there being not a drop of oil in Waigiou when we left; and, to crown all, during our whole voyage from Goram by Ceram to Waigiou, and from Waigiou to Ternate, occupying in all seventy-eight days (or only twelve days short of three months), all in what was supposed to be the favourable season, we had not one single day of fair wind. We were always close braced up, always struggling against wind, currents, and leeway, and in a vessel that would scarcely sail nearer than eight points from the wind! Every seaman will admit that my first (and last) voyage in a boat of my own was a very unfortunate one."

While living at Bessir, the little village where I went to get the red paradise birds, I wrote a letter to my friend George Silk, which I finished and posted after my arrival at Ternate. As such letters as this, absolutely familiar and confidential, exhibit my actual feelings, opinions, and ideas at the time, I reproduce it here:

"MY DEAR GEORGE,

"Bessir, September 1, 1860.

"It is now ten months since the date of my last letter from England. You may fancy therefore that, in the expressive language of the trappers, I am half froze' for news. No such thing! Except for my own family and personal affairs I care not a straw and scarcely give a thought as to what may be uppermost in the political world. In my situation old newspapers are just as good as new ones, and I enjoy the odd scraps, in which I do up my birds (advertisements and all), as much as you do your Times at breakfast. If I live to return to Ternate in another month, I expect to get such a deluge of communications that I shall probably have no time to answer any of them. I therefore bestow one of my solitary evenings on answering yours beforehand. Bythe-by, you do not yet know where I am, for I defy all the members of the Royal Geographical Society in full conclave to tell you where is the place from which I date this letter. I must inform you, therefore, that it is a village on the