Oriole, and that of the Dial-bird, are heard by the traveller with delightful effect, waking the mountain forests at the first blush of coming day. Other singing birds, as light advances, send up their wild notes from the boscage. The swifts and swallows flit abroad; the bronze-winged pigeon utters its plaintive cry; and the jungle-cock his melodious call.

The crow, ever an early bird, is here the earliest; and takes the start of all his winged fraternity. The parroquets follow in large companies. The cranes and waders soar far away to the rivers and the sea-shore, and very soon some one or other of the butterflies are abroad. The black and blue Papilio Polym nestor darts rapidly through the air to settle on the ruddy flowers of Hibiscus. The great black and yellow Ornithoptera Darsius, with upper wings of deep black velvet, measuring six inches across, and the lower ones ornamented with plashes of satiny yellow, through which the sunlight passes, hovers above the almond-scented heliotrope; while Papilio Hector, one of the most common of these beautiful insects, with large crimson spots set in the black velvet of the inferior wings, which, when fresh, are tinged with a purple blush—equalling in splendour the azure of the "European Emperor"-is seen rapidly flying from flower to flower; and in the neighbourhood of rivers and brawling torrents (the spray of which it loves to feel upon its wings) is seen the delicate Sylph Hestea Jassonia, locally called the Floater, or Silver Paper-fly, from its graceful undulating mode of flight.

Thrifty bees of many species and genera fly about in every direction, seeking melliferous treasures for their hives, which some build in hollow trees, and others suspend from their branches. A single comb of this description has been found with a layer of cells on each side, measuring six feet in length and one in breadth, where it was attached to the branch, which it had broken by its weight. These nests become the spoils of the half wild Veddaks, who inhabit the secluded parts of the interior, and collect the wax in the upland forests to barter for clothes and arrow heads in the lowlands.

Golden beetles, too, and others of the Coloptera and Elaterida-whose glittering wing-cases are used to form the golden and emerald and sapphire leaves and flowers which enrich the embroidery of the Indian Zenana, whilst the lustrous joints of the legs are strung on silken threads, and form necklaces and bracelets of rare beauty-crawl clumsily over the still damp leaves; and little Sun-birds, like winged jewels, hover above the opening flower-cups with quivering wings.

Amongst the foliage, yet not to be distinguished from it save in motion, Orthoptera, Walking Leaves and Soothsayers, mimic vegetable shapes, and appear of all varieties of hue, from the pale yellow of the opening bud to the rich green of the full grown leaf, even, in structure and articulation, they exhibit the most wonderful likeness to the foliage around them; their wings resembling ribbed and fibrous follicles, and even the joints of the leg expanding into a broad plait, like a half-opened leaflet: nay, more, the eggs which the Manthis produces are not to be distinguished from the seeds of plants, either in colour or shape, being brown, pentangular, with a short stem attached to them. The Soothsayer (Manthis Superstitiosa) is a hypocrite, whose sanctified attitudes have won for it the name of the praying Manthis-but preying would be the better word, being not only carnivorous but capable of cannibalism.

Here and there the very twigs and leafless branches seem endowed with locomotion, but this is only another masquerade of insect life; and these dry woody-looking forms appertain to the Stick Insect (Phasmido or Spectres).

During the first five hours of daylight the earth literally teems with life and motion, but as noon draws near every living thing hastens to shelter itself

from the meridian heat, and an almost painful silence succeeds the animation of the morning. The simmering hum of insect life is stilled, the birds seek their leafy coverts, the butterflies the humid shelter of the trees. Animals disappear. The elephant fans himself languidly with a green bough, to keep off his tormentor-the fly; the buffalo steals to the tanks and water-courses, and buries all but his sullen head and shining horns in the mud and sedges; groups of deer cower in the jungle, whilst the tardy tortoise drops clumsily into the still pool to screen himself from the expected fervour; and with the exception of the dragon flies, skimming the water-courses on emerald wings, scarcely a living thing is to be seen, for man himself is forced to suspend his toil and share in this general siesta.

With the return of evening, Nature recovers her exhaustion, and the merry bird and insect life begins anew. The animals come forth from their coverts, and seek the ponds and pastures; while the owl and night-jar, the hawk. moths, glow-worms, and fire-flies-creatures crepuscular or nocturnal in their habits-begin to appear on the scene. Night in these solitudes has a solemnity and beauty truly impressive; the cloudlessness and depths of the blue sky cause the very stars to cast shadows, and the singular constellation of the Southern-cross "awakens a solemn consciousness of a new home in a new hemisphere." Throughout the night absolute silence never reigns: the tankfrogs at a distance, and the metallic chirp of the hyla close at hand, the shrill call and response of the tree crickets, and the hum of innumerable insects, keep up their murmurs from the close of day to its dawn. Everywhere the air is lit with a constant play of tiny pyrotechnics as the fire-flies dart about, while the glow-worm's pale green light gleams from the surrounding herbage. But rich as is the island in the wonderful splendour of its flora and insect fauna, the earth beneath teems with as glittering and vary-coloured treasures, and Ceylon is still the "island of jewels." The very fowls occasionally pick up gems; and an instance is given of a ruby, the size of a pea, being taken from the crop of one of them. The sapphire, from its exquisite colour and the large size of which it is found, is the most valuable gem of the island. A piece dug out of the alluvium, in 1853. was purchased by a Moor at Colombo, in whose hands it was valued at upwards of four thousand pounds. The mountains and rocks are supposed to contain mines of precious stones: the sands of the rivers to the south are composed of fragments of rubies, sapphires, and garnets, and are used by lapidaries (chiefly Moors) in polishing softer stones, and in sawing the elephant's grinders into plates.

Travellers in the middle ages told, on their return to Europe, of the sapphires, topazes, amethysts, garnets, and other costly stones of Ceylon. Gold has been found, but only in small particles. Tin has been discovered, and in its vicinity the jewel hunters find garnets, white topazes, corundum, and tourmaline. In the beds of some of the western rivers, nickel, cobalt, and tellurium-another rare and valuable metal, has likewise been found. Manganese is abundant, and iron may be had in quantity from the mountains in the neighbourhood of Adam's Peak; and from the rude and simple way in which these natural treasures have been worked and sought for, it, in all probability, remains for British skill and industry to fully develope the wonderful resources of this interesting island, whose oldest port is presumed to be the Tarshish of Scripture, and which, in the days of Solomon, was famous for its gold and ivory, apes and peecocks.

HAMED THE PORTER'S VISION OF BURDENS.

BY FRANCES BROWN.

HAMED was a porter of Constantinople in the old Turkish times, while Nazarine innovations were yet unknown, and the believers dressed and acted in their own established fashions-times, when at least a quarter of the city was burned down every year, and the plague marched through it every five; when the accession of each successive Sultan-and the intervals were rarely long between them-was preluded by an insurrection of the janisaries; in which his predecessor reaped the benefits of the bowstring; when all manner of goods were moved about by manual labour, and the porters of Constantinople were noted for carrying the heaviest burdens in the world. Hamed had long been a chief among the men of his order, for he could stand under two thousand pounds, and run with thirteen hundred. Some of the envious attributed this surprising ability to an amulet which his mother-she was of Arabian origin-had suspended round his neck when a child, and it was supposed to contain a few hairs of Omar's camel; but the more pious believed it to result from his constant habit of repeating aloud the two professions of Moslem faith, whenever he took up a burden. Be the cause what it might, besides the porter's size of frame and strength of muscle, Hamed was esteemed accordingly by all who had goods to move. Raisins for the Sultan's sherbet had gone to the seraglio on his shoulders, and wine for the college of Dervises to the back door of that establishment. He had carried to and from the bazaar half the wealth of its merchants. Franks had laden him with their cases of knives and scissors, and Persians with their bales of carpets and silks. Arabs entrusted him with their bags of spices; Indians with their boxes of shawls; and though he seldom condescended to carry for Jews, yet at times, when trade was slack, and the day almost over, their gathered wares were piled upon him also. Thus had he borne, for more than thirty years, through orowded street and narrow lane, the burdens and the dust of Stamboul; many a sequin he had earned, but none of them ever remained with him. Hamed's life was haunted by a restless relish for Indian tobacco, Frankish brandy, and, in short, everything that was particularly consumable and expensive. Moreover, he was liberal, and liked good company-the savings of a month were often expended on the feast of a day, or borrowed by a friend in distress, who never found means for repayment; but feasts and sequins were gradually becoming fewer, and Hamed felt that he was growing old.

Burdens he once thought light grew heavier day by day, and though the two professions were uttered louder than ever, his motions under them were slow and toilsome; employers began to observe, and rivals to triumph in the decline of his powers; younger and once despised porters now exceeded him in their lifts, and old infirm men vied with him. Hamed had the amulet still, and believed that his years were not threescore-hard he strove to maintain his pre-eminence, and scowled fiercely when his strength was questioned; but resolution cannot war against decay, and he ceased to be chief of the porters. The day on which this fact was made known to him was one of the bitterest of Hamed's life; for he had been used to excel, though it was but in the fashion of the camel. An Armenian priest called him at the custom-house to

carry home a bale of goods for his household at Pera, and Hamed took it up "Rustan himwith the usual recitation of his creed, but staggered under the weight. porter, in desperation; 'Sheik, it must be divided," cried the "It is my household stuff, and may not self could not bear such a burden." "If thou be opened," replied the inflexible Armenian-a discharged servant afterwards reported that he had the entire plate of a church in that bale. canst not carry it, old man, another will be found." But Hamed did carry it, though with many a zigzag and many a stumble. Oh, how long did the streets appear, and what groups of porters gathered to gaze at him; some of them laughed, others advised him to lay it down, and many remarked that they had seen him carry twice the size. At length he reached the quarter where Christians were permitted to live; but his strength was utterly exhausted, and in spite of his utmost exertions, the unwieldly bundle rolled Dog of a Turk," from his shoulders, dragging him with it to the ground. looked the Armenian, but he did not say it-such observations being forbidden to unbelievers,-however he beckoned to a strong Servian, who had followed as if expecting employment, and before Hamed could recover himself, the latter took up the bale and marched away with it, as erect and easily as he was wont to do.

That night Hamed lay in his house alone. It was a poor hut, standing among many similar, in a back street of the golden city; the walls were of old wood, the roof was of straw. It had no chimney; the crazy door scarcely kept out the dogs that howled and prowled about it; a piece of cane lattice work served for a window, and admitted the sultry night air to the single apartment where Hamed lay on his prayer carpet, with his cloak for a pillow, his barrican for a coverlet, and close by stood an earthen pot, filled with water, and a small flickering lamp, the only furniture of the poor Musselman. Hamed was still weak and weary; after that sickening strain he had sought for no more work, but gone home to rest and think over his chagrin. In that meditation all the sorrows of the porter's years rolled back on his memory; how his mother had died long ago, and his step-mother had persecuted himhow his brothers became makelukes in the vizier's service, and despised himhow his sister had married a Greek, and he renounced her how his first wife and five children had all died of the plague, and how his second had turned a wallee, and left him.

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Many and heavy have been the burdens of my days; and now a Servian excels me, for the weight of age has fallen," said Hamed, as he concluded the survey, and drew his brown fingers through his whitening beard. The dogs had gone from the door-the lamp by his side had burned low-but there was a hand on the latch and a step on the threshold. It opened, and with the careless but regular pace of one accustomed to long travel, and bent upon his errand, there entered a tall, stately figure, whose lineaments seemed human, but of no race nor order that Hamed had ever seen; man or woman, Moslem or Christian, yet the countenance was serene, and the white garment it wore resembled nothing but a cymar. The question of craft puzzled the porter also, for in one hand the stranger carried a bright but antique sickle, and in the other a massive key.

"Oh Sheik," said Hamed, "hast thou goods for me to carry; the hour is late, and they say that I am old; but there was a time when no porter in Stamboul could excel me."

"Arise, and follow me," said the stranger, in a low, emphatic tone, "and I will show thee the division of burdens."

Hamed rose and put on his sandals, for the woe and weariness which had oppressed him before, seemed suddenly passing away. He followed the

stranger through the silent streets of the city, and passed the garden of graves. Their way was not long, but it was one Hamed had never travelled before in all his goings. At last it led him to a solitary plain, on which the stars were shining. Behind, the spires of the city were seen faintly, as if far away; and before them rose a vast barrier, like a wall of granite, whose summit was lost in the sky. In the midst of it was a door, wide as the gates of the Seraglio. "This," said his guide, "is the door which I open to all livingmen call it by many names, yet it has but one. Stand thou on the threshold, and mark those that pass, for thy time is near, but not yet come."

He plied the key, the ponderous door swung back without sound of bolt or hinge, and Hamed stood beside him on the threshold. The prospect beyond seemed boundless, but of what character he could not tell, for the light there was like the earliest grey of morning, yet Hamed could see companies of people trooping across the plain, and in at that open door. Of all ages, nations, and ranks, they seemed when approaching the threshold, but their differences of costume and appearance were wonderfully softened in the grey light beyond. Stranger still it appeared to Hamed, that they all carried burdens in one shape or other: every man, woman, and child was laden, and though the magnitude of their burdens was unaccountably various, every one moved as if his strength was tasked to the utmost. As Hamed's eye became accustomed to that strange light, he also perceived that just beyond the threshold ran a deep and narrow stream; its waters made no sound, though they passed with the swiftness of an arrow, and all comers, as they stepped over, dropped their burdens in or carried them onward, according to the command of the guide. "Sheik of the door," said Hamed, "tell me, are these all porters? whose goods do they carry? and why are so many cast into the stream?"

"They carry no goods but their own," replied the guide. "Listen, and be instructed." While he spoke, there approached a peasant man, bowed with a heavy burden, which seemed of iron ware.

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'What weight hast thou brought to the threshold ?" demanded Hamed's guide; and he answered, "Mine age and poverty."

"Cast it into the stream of oblivion," said the guide, touching him with his sickle; and as the man stepped over, the burden dropped from his shoulders, the deep waters closed over it, and he went forward, free and unencumbered, to those regions of morning. Hamed was about to express his wonder, when another appeared, habited like a vizier, with a burden almost as great, but it had a broidered covering, and he seemed more fearful to enter.

"Of what consists thy burden?" said the guide; and he replied, "The honours of my high estate, and the cares of my riches." But the guide touched him with his sickle, and said "Let fall." And as he crossed, the greater part of his burden fell; but a small portion remained, which grew and enlarged at every step, till it seemed greater than all the rest had been. Then said Hamed, "Oh, Sheik, what is this that remains, and how is the increase?" And his guide answered him, "This is the luxury of his wealth, and the injustice of his power; for such burdens cannot fall, and their true magnitude appears in this place, because the coverings that dazzled men's sight are removed."

Thus there passed men of all climes and conditions, various as ever Hamed had seen at the harbour or the slave market. Franks, Nubians, Greeks, and Jews, with many of the true believers; yet his guide paused not for their professions, but spake to all in the same language, touching their burdens. Still more various were the contents of these, and the chances of their bearers in crossing that soundless stream. One came laden with his pride; and it was