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Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
produced no apparent effect, and the man rode off. Presently, however, a
thin cloud of smoke was seen to rise from his shoulders. The smoke
thickened, then burst into flame, and after riding at desperate speed in hopes
of overtaking his comrades, the unfortunate man fell from his horse, and
was miserably burned to death.

The fact was that cotton being cheaper than silk, he had wadded his
cuirass with cotton fibre. Had he chosen silk, he would have got off in
safety. Among the Chinese this cotton mail is largely used. In consequence,
many Chinese soldiers were found who had been burned to death in exactly
the same way as the Indian warrior.
Towards the south-western parts of Africa there is a nation called the
Begharmis. Their soldiers are mounted, and are all furnished with suits of
quilted mail, which fall below the knee as the rider is seated on his horse.
Not only is the rider thus defended, but the horse also, which is covered
with quilted armour like that of its rider, the appearance of both being
exceedingly grotesque.

There are several examples of such armour in the animal world, the
principal of which is the Indian Rhinoceros. Any one who has seen this
animal, or even a good portrait of it, will at once recognise the parallel
between the heavy folds of its thick skin and the padded flaps of the quilted
mail. The blubber with which the whale is so thickly coated affords another
example of the parallel between Nature and Art.

In the days of ancient Rome there was a curious military manœuvre, by

which the defensive armour of individual soldiers might be made
collectively useful. This manœuvre was called Forming a Tortoise
(testudinem facere), and is thus described in Smith’s “Dictionary of Greek
and Roman Antiquities:”—
“The name of Testudo was also applied to the covering made by a close
body of soldiers, who placed their shields over their heads to screen
themselves against the darts of the enemy. The shields fitted so closely
together as to present one unbroken surface without any interstices between
them, and were so firm that men could walk upon them, and even horses
and chariots be driven over them.

“A Testudo was formed either in battle, to ward off the arrows and other
missiles of the enemy, or, which was more frequently the case, to form a
protection to the soldiers when they advanced to the walls or gates of a
town for the purpose of attacking them.
“Sometimes the shields were disposed in such a way as to make the
Testudo slope. The soldiers in the first line stood upright, those in the centre
stooped a little, and each line successively was a little lower than the
preceding, down to the last, where the soldiers rested on one knee. Such a
disposition of the shields was called Fastigata Testudo, on account of their
sloping like the roof of a building.
“The advantages of this plan were obvious. The stones and missiles
thrown upon the shields rolled off them like water from a roof; besides
which, other soldiers frequently advanced upon them to attack the enemy
upon the walls. The Romans were accustomed to form this kind of Testudo
as an exercise in the games of the Circus.”
On the right hand of the illustration is shown a portion of a Testudo of
three ranks, taken from the Antonine column. On the left is an ordinary
Tortoise. Sometimes the Testudo was a covered machine on wheels, and
guarded above with a supplementary roof of wet hides arranged in scale
fashion, so as to prevent it from being set on fire by the besieged, and to
throw off the heavy missiles which were dropped upon it. Under cover of
this Testudo, the soldiers could either undermine the walls, or bring a
battering-ram to bear upon them, while the men who worked it were safely
under cover. As to the battering-ram itself, we shall presently treat of it.
The Fort.
As we have treated of one of the modes by which Forts were assaulted, we
will now come to the Fort itself.
The transitions in Fort-making are too curious to be omitted from the
present book. As soon as war became organized, a Fort of some kind was
necessary. The simplest mode of making a Fort was evidently to dig a deep
trench, and throw up the earth on the inside, so as to form a wall. Let such a
trench be square or circular, and there is a simple but powerful Fort, by
means of which a comparatively small garrison could defend themselves
against a superior force.
The Romans were great masters of this art, fighting as much with the
spade as the sword. So strong and thorough was the old Roman work that
many of their camps still remain, and will remain for centuries if man does
not deface them. Such, for example, are Cæsar’s camp, near Aldershot, and
the fine camp at Lyddington, in Wiltshire, almost every detail of which is
preserved. Roman camps are all constructed on the same model, the
general’s place, or Prætorium, being in the centre, whence he issued his
orders, and the commanders under him occupying the corners. Thus, no
matter how he might be shifted from one corps to another, every Roman
soldier knew his way about the camp without needing to see it, and could
tell at any moment where to find any officer.

Other nations made their Forts circular, an example of which I lately saw
a few miles from Bideford, while others consisted of nearly parallel lines,
enclosures, and demi-lunes, like those wonderful dykes near Clovelly,
which occupy more than thirty acres of land. One of the circular Forts is
shown on the right hand of the illustration.
As time went on, stone took the place of earth, and the principal object
of the builder was to give considerable thickness below, so as to resist the
battering-ram, and great height both to walls and towers, so as to be
comparatively out of the reach of the arrows and other missiles of the
besiegers.
For awhile, such castles were impregnable, and the owners thereof were
the irresponsible despots of the neighbourhood, recognising no law but their
own will, robbing, torturing, and murdering at pleasure, and setting the king
at open defiance. When, however, the tremendous powers of artillery
became developed, the age of stone castles passed away. Height was found
to be equivalent to weakness, as the strongest tower in existence could be
knocked to pieces in an hour or two, and do infinite harm within the fortress
by its falling fragments.
Fortification then returned to its original principles. Earth took the place
of stone or brick; and at the present day, instead of erecting lofty walls and
stately towers, the military engineer sinks his buildings as far as he can into
the ground, and protects them with banks of simple earth, which is found to
be the best defence against heavy shot. There is no masonry in existence
that will endure the artillery fire of the present day, and even the solid rock
can be knocked to pieces by it. But an earth-mound is a different business,
and will absorb as many shot and shell as can be poured into it, without
being much the worse for it. See, for example, the Proof-mound at
Woolwich, which receives the shot of guns as they are being proved. Now,
this mound has undergone perpetual battering for many years, and is as
strong as ever. The same thing may be said of the celebrated Mamelon
before Sebastopol.

So much for the Fort made by the hand of man. We now come to that
which is formed by the feet of animals.
The Elk, or Moose, an inhabitant of Northern Europe, finds itself in great
danger during the winter, the wolves being its chief enemies. At certain
times of the year there comes a partial thaw during the day, followed by a
frost at night. The result is, that a slight cake of ice forms on the surface of
the snow, too slight to bear the weight of so heavy an animal, and strong
enough to cut the legs of the elk as it ploughs its way along. Now, the
wolves are sufficiently light to pass over the frozen surface without
breaking it, and accordingly, they can easily run down and secure the elk.
In order, therefore, to counteract the wolves, a number of elks select a
convenient spot where they can find food, and unite in trampling the snow
down so as to sink themselves nearly to their own height below its surface.
The wolves never dare attack an Elk-yard, as this enclosure is termed. In the
first place, they are always haunted with suspicions of traps, and do not like
the look of the yard; and in the next place, if some of the wolves did venture
within the fort, the elks would soon demolish them with hoofs and horns.
One of these Elk-yards is seen on the left hand of the illustration.
 WAR AND HUNTING.

CHAPTER VII.

SCALING INSTRUMENTS.—DEFENCE OF FORT.—IMITATION.—THE FALL-TRAP.

Scaling-forks.—The Climbing-spur and its Use.—Larva of the Tiger-beetle.—Hooks of

Serpula.—Mr. Gosse’s Description.—Falling Stones.—A Stone rolling down a
Precipice.—The Polar Bear and the Walrus.—Imitation.—The Polar Bear and the Seal.
—The Esquimaux Hunter “Seal-talking.”—Enticing Mother by means of Young.—The
Fall-trap and its Variations.—The Schoolboy’s “Booby-trap.”—Curious Mode of
killing Elephants.—The Elephant-spear.—The Hippopotamus-trap of Southern Africa.
—The Mangrove and its Seeds.—The Spring-gun and Spring-bow.

B EFORE dismissing the subject of the Fortress, we will glance at the

Attack and Defence, as seen in Nature and Art.
Scaling Instruments.
We have already seen how the Battering-ram could be worked against the
walls of a fort, or how the assailants could scale them by means of the
Testudo. There must, however, be occasions when it would be impossible to
bring together a sufficiently large body of men to form the Testudo, or even
to place ladders, and in such instances it would be necessary that each
soldier should be furnished with an instrument by which he could haul
himself up the wall.
There are many examples still extant of such weapons, which were
called “Scaling-forks,” and their general appearance may be known by the
two right-hand figures of the cut. The handles of these weapons were very
long, and by them the soldier hauled himself to the top of the wall. In some
of these instruments the shafts were armed with projecting pegs, set at
regular intervals, so that they acted as the steps of a ladder, and rendered the
ascent comparatively easy.
Many of the long-handled partisans, such as the well-known Jedwood
axe, were furnished with a hook upon the back of the blade, so that the
weapon served the purpose of a scaling-fork as well as a battle-axe.
 The Scaling-fork (German Sturmgabel), which is shown on the right
hand of the illustration, was in use somewhere about A.D. 1500. That which
is shown next to it is about a hundred years later.

Demmin, from whose work these figures are taken, mentions that at the
siege of Mons, in 1691, the grenadiers of the elder Dauphin’s regiment
stormed the walls under the command of Vauban, and, by means of the
Scaling-fork, carried the breastwork, which they assaulted. As a mark of
honour to these gallant men, Louis XIV. ordered that the sergeants of the
regiment should carry scaling-forks instead of halberds, which had been the
peculiar weapon of the sergeant until comparatively late days, just as the
spontoon, or half-pike, was the weapon of the infantry officer from A.D.
1700 to A.D. 1800, or thereabouts.
The English student will remember that in the writings of Sterne,
Fielding, and Smollett the half-pike is frequently mentioned as the weapon
of a subaltern officer. Demmin states that the last spontoons used in France
were carried by the French Guards in 1789.

Perhaps the Climbing-spur may be familiar to some of my readers, and

bring back a reminiscence of boyhood. There is nothing more tantalising to
a boy than to see a hawk, or magpie nest at the top of a tree which is too
large to be climbed in the ordinary way, and which has no branches within
many feet of the ground. However, boyish ingenuity has brought almost any
tree within the power of a bird’s-nester by the invention of the Climbing-
irons.
These are made so as to pass under the foot like a stirrup, and can be
secured to the leg by leathern straps, the hooks being, of course, on the
inside of the leg. The cut represents the Climbing-iron of the right leg. By
means of these instruments, a very large tree can be mounted, the irons
being struck firmly into the bark, and the legs moved alternately, and not in
the usual manner of climbing. Sometimes the hook of the Climbing-iron is
terminated by a single instead of a double point, but the principle is the
same in all.

We will now look for similar examples in Nature.

On the right of the left-hand group is shown the larva or grub of the
common Tiger-beetle, which is itself a curious creature.
It lives in perpendicular burrows, feeding upon those insects which come
within its reach. Its usual position is at the upper part of the burrow, with its
jaws widely extended, so as to snap up any insect that may venture too near.
When it has secured its prey, it seeks the bottom of its burrow, makes its
meal in quiet, and reascends. How it does so we shall soon see. Towards the
end of the body, one of the segments is much enlarged, and has a bold
prominence upon the back. On the summit of this prominence there are two
horn-like hooks, shaped as seen in the illustration. These hooks are used
exactly like the boy’s climbing-spurs, the alternate elongation and
contraction of the body answering the same purpose as the movements of
the boy’s legs. When the larva has seized its prey and wishes to retreat, all
that it has to do is to withdraw the hooks, straighten the body, and down it
falls by its own weight.

In the nautical branch of this subject I have already treated of the curious
pushing-poles by means of which the Serpula protrudes itself from its tube.
As all must have noticed who have seen these creatures alive, the Serpula
protrudes itself very slowly, but flies back into its tube with such velocity
that the eye can scarcely follow its movements. Its difference of motion
shows that there must be a difference in the means by which these
movements are produced.
 Referring to the illustration on page 45, the reader will see that the
instruments with which the Serpula propels itself are used just after the
fashion of punt-poles, and cannot act with any great swiftness. When,
however, the creature wishes to withdraw itself, it employs a curious
apparatus, consisting of many rows of little hooks. The points of these
hooks readily catch against the lining of the tube, and by their aid the worm
jerks itself back with wonderful celerity.
Three rows of these hooks are shown next to the Tiger-beetle larva.
The structure of these remarkable organs is elaborately described by Mr.
Gosse in his “Evenings with the Microscope:”—
“If you look again at this Serpula recently extracted, you will find with a
lens a pale yellow line running along the upper surface of each foot,
transversely to the length of the body. This is the border of an exceedingly
delicate membrane, and, on placing it under a high power (say six hundred
diameters), you will be astonished at the elaborate provision here made for
prehension.”
“This yellow line, which cannot be appreciated by the unassisted eye, is
a muscular ribbon, over which stand edgewise a multitude of what I will
call combs, or rather subtriangular plates. These have a wide base, and the
apex of the triangle is curved over into an abrupt hook, and then this cut
into a number (from four to six) of sharp and long teeth.”
“The plates stand side by side, parallel to each other, along the whole
length of the ribbon, and there are muscular fibres seen affixed to the basal
side of each plate, which doubtless give it independent motion.
“I have counted one hundred and thirty-six plates on one ribbon. There
are two ribbons on each thoracic segment, and there are seven such
segments. Hence, we may compute the total number of prehensile comb-
like plates on this portion of the body to be about one thousand nine
hundred, each of which is wielded by muscles at the will of the animal;
while, as each plate carries on an average five teeth, there are nearly ten
thousand teeth hooked into the lining membrane of the cell, when the
animal chooses to descend.”
“Even this, however, is far short of the total number, because long
ribbons of hooks of a similar structure, but of smaller dimensions, run
across the abdominal segments, which are more numerous than the thoracic.
No wonder, with so many muscles wielding so many grappling-hooks, that
the descent is so rapidly effected.”
Lastly, we come to the Walrus, whose strangely elongated upper canine
teeth can be used for just the same purposes as the scaling-fork or climbing-
spur. As, however, reference has already been made to these tusks, in
connection with another department of this work, there is no necessity for
occupying space with a second description.
Defence of Fort.
So much for attack; now for defence.
The simplest mode of defending a fort, or even a mountain pass, is by
throwing or rolling rocks and heavy stones against the enemy.
Simple as it may appear, it is a very effective one, as can be well
understood by those who have rolled a huge stone down a long and steep
slope. The stone goes gently enough at first, but rapidly gains speed, until at
last it makes great bounds from the earth, tearing and crashing through
everything as if it had been shot from a cannon.
I have seen a stone which was too heavy to be lifted, and had to be
prised over the edge with levers, spring completely through the topmost
branches of a high tree, scattering the boughs in all directions, and then,
alighting on another stone, split into many fragments, just like the pieces of
a burst shell. That one stone would have swept off a whole party of soldiers
had they encountered it while trying to ascend the slope.
This invention has also been anticipated in Nature.
Putting aside the obvious reflection that the most primitive warriors must
have noticed the effects of stones falling over a precipice, we have, in
Captain Hall’s “Life with the Esquimaux,” a curious account of the Polar
Bear and its mode of killing the Walrus. Gigantic as is this animal, and
terrible as are its tusks, the Polar Bear will sometimes attack it in a very
singular manner. The Bear springs on a sleeping Walrus, and clings to its
shoulders with one paw, and with repeated blows from the other, fractures
its skull.
Still, the combat is sure to be a severe one, and so the Polar Bear will, if
he can, secure his prey by some other method.
“The natives tell many most interesting anecdotes of the Bear, showing
that they are accustomed to watch his movements closely. He has a very
ingenious method of killing the Walrus.

“In August, every fine day, the Walrus makes its way to the shore, draws
its huge body upon the rocks, and basks in the sun. If this happen near the
base of a cliff, the ever-watchful Bear takes advantage of the circumstance
to attack his formidable game in this way. The Bear mounts the cliff, and
throws down upon the animal’s head a large rock, calculating the distance
and the curve with astonishing accuracy, and thus crushing the thick, bullet-
proof skull.
“If the Walrus is not instantly killed, or simply stunned, the Bear rushes
down to it, seizes the rock, and hammers away at the head until the skull is
broken. A fat feast follows. Unless the Bear is very hungry, it eats only the
blubber of the walrus, seal, and whale.”
Imitation.
As is the case with the Norwegians, the Esquimaux have the greatest
respect for the intellectual as well as the bodily powers of the Bear, and
avowedly imitate it in its modes of hunting. One of these methods will now
be mentioned.
It must first be premised that the Seal is a most wary animal, and when it
lies down on the shore to sleep, it takes its repose by snatches, lifting up its
head at very short intervals, looking all round in search of foes, and then
composing itself to rest again. To approach so cautious an animal is
evidently a difficult task, but the Bear is equal to it. The following is
Captain Hall’s account:—
“From the Polar Bear the Innuits (i.e. Esquimaux) learn much.

“The manner of approaching the Seal, which is on the ice by its hole,
basking in the sunshine, is from him. The Bear lies down and crawls by
hitches towards the Seal, ‘talking’ to it, as the Innuits say, until he is within
striking distance, when he pounces upon it with a single jump. The natives
say that if they could ‘talk’ as well as the Bear, they could catch many more
Seals.
“The procedure of the Bear is as follows.
“He proceeds very cautiously towards the black speck, far off on the ice,
which he knows to be a Seal. When still a long way from it, he throws
himself down and hitches himself along towards his game. The Seal,
meanwhile, is taking its naps of about ten seconds each, invariably raising
its head and surveying the entire horizon before composing itself again to
brief slumber.
“As soon as it raises its head, the Bear ‘talks,’ keeping perfectly still. The
Seal, if it sees anything, sees but the head, which it takes for that of another
Seal. It sleeps again. Again the Bear hitches himself along, and once more
the Seal looks around, only to be ‘talked’ to and again deceived. Thus the
pursuit goes on until the Seal is caught, or till it makes its escape, which it
seldom does.”
It is remarkable that while this “talk” is going on, the Seal appears to be
charmed, raises and shakes its flippers about, rolls over on its side and back,
as if delighted, and then lies down to sleep.
 Now, the Esquimaux hunters imitate, as nearly as they can, the
proceedings of the Bear, but are not so successful. Captain Hall mentions
several instances where the native hunter failed even to come within
gunshot without alarming the Seal, which instantly plunged into its hole and
was lost.

The same author mentions another instance where the Esquimaux hunter
has copied the Bear.

When an Esquimaux hunter catches a young Seal, he takes care not to

kill it at once, as he wishes to use it as a decoy. He ties a long line round
one of the hind flippers, and then drops the little Seal into the hole through
the ice by which it enters and leaves the water. The struggles of the young
are nearly sure to attract the mother, and when she has discovered its
condition the young Seal is cautiously drawn up on the ice. The mother
follows, too intent on rescuing her young to think about herself, and, as
soon as she is within reach, she is struck with the harpoon.
The Polar Bear, however, preceded the Esquimaux in this mode of
hunting. The young Seal lives in a hemispherical dwelling scooped out of
the snow, and communicating with the water by means of a hole through
the ice. This dwelling will be described and figured when we come to the
subject of Architecture.
Finding out, by scent or some other means, the habitation of the young
Seal, the Polar Bear leaps upon the snow, bringing his feet together, and
with his enormous weight breaking through the roof of the dwelling. He
instantly captures the young Seal before it can make its escape. Then,
driving the talons of one paw into its hind flipper, he lets it into the hole,
and allows it to flounder about in the water. When the mother is attracted to
her young, he draws his prey slowly up on the ice. The anxious mother
follows, and is at once secured by the talons of the other foot, as is
represented in the illustration.
The Fall-trap.
This is a stratagem which is often employed in War and Hunting, though its
use is mostly confined to the latter. Schoolboys often avail themselves of
this principle when they wish to play a practical joke, and to amuse
themselves by setting a “Booby-trap.” This trap is easily manufactured, and
consists of a partially opened door, with a basin or jug of water balanced
upon it. The natural result is, that any one who opens the door without
proper precautions receives the jug and its contents upon his head, and is
thoroughly drenched.
On the right hand of the illustration is seen a curious spear, the butt of
which, instead of being lighter than the head, is very much heavier. The
weight, however, is exactly where it is wanted, and indeed, in actual use, is
trebled by a mass of tenacious clay, kneaded upon it. This figure is taken
from a very perfect specimen in my own collection.
It is an African weapon, not used for war, but for hunting, and, as far as I
know, exclusively employed against the elephants. These animals have a
way of forming roads or tracks for themselves through the woods, very
much like those almost invisible paths which are made by the half-wild
sheep of the great Wiltshire Downs, except that they traverse thick forests
instead of broad downs.
The native hunters know all the elephant paths, and if a herd of elephants
be seen approaching, the path which they will take is tolerably certain.
 Armed with this knowledge, the native hunters climb the trees, and seat
themselves on the branches which overhang the path, each hunter being
supplied with one of these spears. As the elephants pass beneath him, the
experienced hunter selects a bull elephant with good tusks, and, taking a
careful aim, drops the spear on its back.
On receiving the stroke, the elephant rushes off in mixed terror and rage.
As the animal uses the legs of each side alternately, it sways its huge body
from side to side at every step. With each movement, the spear also sways
about, its weighted end giving it such a leverage, that the sharp edges of the
head cut the poor animal to pieces.

Another kind of Fall-trap, which is common in many parts of Southern

Africa, is not dependent upon the skill of the hunter, but, like the “booby-
trap” above mentioned, is set in motion by the victim.
A figure of this trap is given in the illustration.
If the native hunter can find a spot where the Hippopotamus path passes
under an overhanging branch, he makes a simple but most effective trap. He
takes a heavy log of wood, and into one end of it he drives a spear-point.
The log is then hung with its point downwards to the branch, the rope which
is connected with its trigger or catch being stretched across the path at a few
inches from the surface of the ground, and carried at right angles across the
path.
The Hippopotamus takes no notice of the cord, which is usually made of
one of the creepers or “bush-ropes” that are so common in hot countries. No
sooner, however, does its foot strike the cord, than the trigger is released,
and down falls the heavy log, driving its iron point deeply into the back of
the victim. Even if the weapon were simple iron, such a wound must be
mortal, but, as it is almost invariably poisoned, the wounded animal can
scarcely travel forty or fifty yards before it lies down and dies.
One of these traps is shown in the illustration. In the foreground is
shown the Fall-trap, pointed with iron, and weighted with large stones at the
lower end, so as to bring it down with more force, and to prevent it from
falling transversely.
The Spring-gun, once so formidable a protector of our coverts, was
managed in a similar manner, except that the missile was discharged
horizontally, and not vertically. The gun, loaded with shot, was fixed some
eighteen inches from the ground, and a long and slight wire fastened to the
trigger. The opposite end of the wire was made fast to a tree or other fixed
object, and, as the gun was directed on the line of the wire, it is evident that
any one who stumbled against it would discharge the gun, and receive the
contents in his legs.
In France the gun was generally loaded with little pieces of bay salt, and
I very much pity the unfortunate poacher who came across one of these
guns. The pain would prevent him from escaping, and I think that the
hardest-hearted of game preservers could not bring himself to prosecute a
man who had already suffered so much.
Of a similar character are the Spring-bows which were once common in
this country, and are still used in various parts of Asia. A bow and arrow are
substituted for firearms, and the bow, after being drawn by the united efforts
of several men, is held in its position by a stick, one end of which presses
against the centre of the bow, and the other against the string.
A large arrow is then placed on the bow, and a cord is tied to the middle
of the stick, led forwards in a line with the direction of the arrow, and
fastened, as in the case of the spring-gun. As soon as the line is struck, the
stick is jerked from its place, and the arrow is discharged, piercing the body
of the trespasser. Tigers, bears, and leopards are the usual victims of this
trap.

It is remarkable that in the same country there is a production of Nature

which may in all probability have given to the native hunter the idea of the
Fall-trap. This is the Mangrove-tree, which is remarkable for the wonderful
extent of ground which it will cover, and the nearly impenetrable thickets
which it forms. In the present part of the work we have nothing to do with
the aërial roots, several of which are shown in the illustration, and only
restrict ourselves to the Seeds, and the curious manner in which they are
planted by Nature.
In the illustration, on the left hand, the growth of the Mangrove is seen.
The drawing is taken from a sketch by the late Mr. Baines, and generously
placed at my disposal, as were all his drawings and journals.
The Mangrove is a wet-loving tree, never flourishing unless rooted in
mud; and whether the moisture of the mud be attributable to fresh or salt
water seems to make little difference to the Mangrove, which, of the two,
appears to prefer the latter. Now, the seeds of the Mangrove look very much
like elongated skittles, except that one end comes to a sharp point. As they
hang on the tree, the point is downwards. When they are ripe, they fall from
the branch, and by their own weight are driven deeply into the mud, where
they develop roots and leaves, and become the progenitors of the future
Mangrove race.
I cannot but think that the native hunter, having seen the tremendous
force with which the Mangrove seed buries itself in the mud, has applied
the same principle to a weapon which shall bury itself in the body of an
elephant.
 WAR AND HUNTING.

CHAPTER VIII.

CONCEALMENT.—DISGUISE.—THE TRENCH.—POWER OF GRAVITY.—

MISCELLANEA.

Concealment needed in Modern Warfare.—Concealment by Covering.—Masking Guns.

—Birnam Wood.—The Reduvius.—The Cuckoo-spit and the Spider-crab.—
Concealment by Disguise.—Stratagem of the Barea.—Complete Deception.—Larva of
Geometra.—The Leaf-insect.—The Luppet-moth.—The Ptarmigan and the Ermine.—
Principle of the Trench.—The Hunter’s “Skärm.”—The Wax-moth or Galleria-moth,
and its Tunnel.—Fate of a Collection.—The Termites and the Travelling Ants of South
America.—The Power of Gravity.—The Battering-ram and its Force.—Miscellanea.—
War by Suffocation.—The Stink-pot.—The Chili-plant.—The Sulphur-room.—The
Bombardier-beetle.—The Bullet-making Machine and the Silkworm.

Concealment.

W E will first take Concealment by means of Covering.

If History repeats herself, so does Warfare. I have already shown
the repetition of History in the Fortress—I shall now show it in the
Field.
In former days, when arms of precision were not invented, concealment
was not needed. No soldier ever was visited with a dream so wild as that of
taking definite aim at the enemy, and reserving the fire until the aim was
certain. I have in my collection several of the French and English muskets
used about the time of Waterloo, and, though a fair rifle-shot, would not
engage to hit a haystack with either of them at a distance of a hundred
yards. With the Snider or Martini-Henry in the hands of a skilful adversary,
he would be a bold man who would offer himself for a target at a thousand
yards. Indeed, if the first shot happened to miss, the marksman would be
tolerably sure to notice the failure, and to correct his aim with fatal
certainty.
 In those days, therefore, concealment was rather ridiculed than praised,
the power of the new arm not being as yet appreciated. I well recollect, in
the earliest days of the Volunteer movement, hearing a Volunteer captain
declare, amid the cheers of his company, that “he had never sneaked behind
a tree in all his life, and was not going to begin now.”
In the present day, the power of the missile has been developed with
such astounding rapidity, that to be exposed to the fire of rifles or cannon is
almost certain death. Indeed, the only safety of the defence lay in the fact
that the smoke soon rendered very accurate shooting impossible at long
ranges, and that at short ranges, if a man got a bullet through his body, it
mattered little to him whether the missile were a spherical musket-ball or a
conical rifle-bullet.

Just, then, as forts have latterly sunk into the earth for the purpose of
strength, so have our modern soldiers found that the true principle of
modern warfare is never to lose sight of the enemy, and never to allow the
enemy to see yourself or the disposal of your troops.
Everything must be revealed to the commander-in-chief, everything
must be concealed from the enemy.
 In the late Franco-German war the principle of concealment was largely
used, and when cannon were brought into the field by the Germans for the
purpose of attacking fortresses, they were always hidden under branches of
trees, so that the enemy should not distinguish them from the ordinary
features of the country, and that the sparkle of the sunbeams upon them
might not be seen.
It would be almost superfluous to remind the reader of Malcolm’s
stratagem when besieging Dunsinane Castle:—

“Let every soldier hew him down a bough,

And bear’t before him; thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our host, and make discovery
Err in report of us.”

Precisely similar modes of concealment are to be found in the animal

world.
There is a certain insect belonging to the Heteroptera, and scientifically
named Reduvius personatus. I am not aware whether it has any popular
name. It is insectivorous, and ought to be welcomed in houses, as it is
particularly fond of the too common bed-bug. So carnivorous are these
insects that one of the Reduviidæ killed and sucked a companion of her own
sex, her own mate, and, after only a few days’ fast, her own young, and then
sucked her own eggs.
During its larval and pupal stages of existence, the Reduvius covers its
body and limbs with dust and any other refuse which it can find. In this
manner it disguises its form so completely that it scarcely looks like an
insect. Occasionally it seems to be dissatisfied with its coat of dust, throws
it off, and sets to work at a new one.
One of these creatures, as it appears when covered with its dusty coating,
is seen in the upper left-hand corner of the illustration. It is slightly
magnified.
Below the Reduvius is the common Cuckoo-spit (Aphrophora
spumaria), whose frothy masses are so plentiful in our hedgerows and
gardens.
If one of these masses be carefully opened, there will be found in it a
little green creature with small, round, dot-like eyes. This is either the larval
or pupal state of the Frog-hopper, as the insect is called in its perfect state,
from its habit of taking long and sudden leaps when alarmed.
I well remember my delight when, as a child, I set to work at examining
these froth-masses, and succeeded in tracing the insect through all its
changes. The froth is derived from the sap of the tree, which is sucked
through the proboscis, passed through the digestive organs, and then ejected
in a succession of little bubbles. After awhile a little drop of clear liquid is
seen to collect at the bottom of the froth, to increase, and then to fall, when
another immediately begins to be formed. One species of Cuckoo-spit,
which inhabits Madagascar, acts almost like a siphon on the tree, and pours
out large quantities of clear water during the hottest part of the day.
Within this froth-mass the insect lies concealed, and, though utterly
helpless, is safe from most of the enemies that would attack it if it were left
exposed.
Beneath the Cuckoo-spit is the common Spider-crab, sometimes called
the Thornback-crab, from the numerous spines with which its body is
covered. Its scientific name is Maia squinado.
When the Spider-crab attains to a tolerable size, its rough surface forms
attachment for various marine beings, chiefly those belonging to the
zoophytes. In some cases these zoophytes grow to such a size that the Crab
is completely covered by them, and its original shape effectually concealed.
When one of these creatures is seen in a living state it presents the curious
spectacle of a large bunch of zoophytes and corallines moving about from
place to place without any perceptible limbs, the whole of the surface of the
Crab being covered with extraneous growths.
Disguise.
Next comes concealment by means of Disguise.
On the right hand of the accompanying illustration is shown a singular
mode of concealment adopted by the Barea, a warlike and predatorial tribe
of Abyssinia. When Mr. Mansfield Parkyns was resident in Abyssinia he
fell in with the Barea, through whose country he had to pass.
“Scarcely had we passed the brook of Mai-Chena when one of our men,
a hunter, declared that he saw the slaves. Being at that time inexperienced in
such matters, I could see nothing suspicious. He then pointed out to me a
dead tree standing on an eminence at a distance of several hundred yards,
and charred black by last year’s fire.” Here I must explain that in Abyssinia,
as in several other parts of the world, the ground is annually, cleared of its
superabundant vegetation by setting fire to it, and allowing the flames to
burn themselves out.

“However, all I saw was a charred stump of a tree and a few blackened
logs or stones lying at its feet. The hunter declared that neither the tree nor
the stones were there the last time we passed, and that they were simply
naked Barea, who had placed themselves in that position to observe us,
having no doubt seen us for some time, and prepared themselves.
“I could scarcely believe it possible they could be so motionless, and
determined to explore a little. The rest of the party advised me to continue
quietly in the road, as it was possible that, from our presenting a rather
formidable appearance, we should pass unmolested; but so confident was I
of his mistake, that, telling the rest to go on slowly, as if nothing had been
observed, I dropped into the long grass and stalked up towards them.”
“A shot from my rifle at a long distance (I did not venture too close)
acted on the trees and stones as powerfully as the fiddle of Orpheus, but
with the contrary effect; for the tree disappeared, and the stones and logs,
instead of running after me, ran in the opposite direction.”
“I never was more astonished in my life, for so complete was the
deception that even up to the time I fired I could have declared the objects
before me were vegetable or mineral—anything, indeed, but animal. The
fact was that the cunning rascals who represented stones were lying flat,
with their little round shields placed before them as screens.”
This stratagem is shown on the right hand of the illustration.

On the left are a few of the innumerable instances in Nature where

Concealment is obtained by imitation.
The three examples which are here given are familiar to all
entomologists.
The upper figure represents two of the Geometra or Looper Caterpillars,
as they appear when at rest, and affixed to a twig. This appears to be a
singular attitude of rest, but it is one in which they delight, and in which
they remain for hours together, the claspers at the end of the body tightly
grasping the branch, and the whole body held out so straight and motionless
that it is hardly possible to believe that a veritable twig is not before the
eye. The colour is that of the twig, and the different segments of the body
look exactly like the little irregularities and projections of a young twig.
I have more than once seen a novice in entomology unable to distinguish
these larvæ, even when the branch was pointed out, and there were several
upon it.
Just below the Loopers, and on the left hand of the illustration, is shown
the well-known Leaf-insect (Phyllium). These strange beings have the elytra
and the flattened appendages of the legs so exactly like leaves that the most
experienced eye can scarcely distinguish them from the leaves among
which they are placed. Even when they have been on a small plant, such as
a myrtle in a flower-pot, I have had the greatest difficulty in finding them,
and have seen people examine the plant, and then go away declaring that no
insects were on it.
On the right hand, and just below the looper caterpillar, is the common
Lappet-moth of this country, shown in its position of rest.
When it assumes this attitude, it looks exactly like a withered leaf, the
resemblance extending not only to the form, but the colour. All
entomologists are familiar with many similar examples in insect life. The
common Tortoise-shell Butterfly, for example, has a way of settling on
patches of red soil, with which it harmonizes so well that it can hardly be
seen. The various moths, also, are in the habit of resting on tree-bark,
palings, and other objects, to which they instinctively know that they
assimilate in hue. Many a beginner in entomology will pass a wooden fence
or a wall, and not see an insect on either, while an adept will follow him and
take twenty or thirty good specimens.
The last figure in the illustration represents a Ptarmigan (Lagopus
vulgaris) in its winter dress. These birds have two differently coloured
dresses, one for summer and the other for winter, and both adapted for
concealment by imitation. In the former dress it is mottled with various
shades of blackish brown, yellow, and white. As the bird is in the habit of
settling among the grey lichen-covered stones on the sides of rocky hills,
these colours harmonize so exactly with them that a Ptarmigan may almost
be trodden upon before it is perceived.
In the winter, when the snow covers the whole country with one uniform
sheet of white, except where the wind blows the snow aside, and exposes
the underlying stones, the Ptarmigan assumes a different plumage, being
almost entirely white, except a black streak over the eye, and the outer
feathers of the tail, which are also black. Thus the bird becomes almost
indistinguishable from a snow-covered stone, especially as it has a habit of
squatting motionless and silent when it takes alarm.
The reader may, perhaps, remember that the common Stoat also has a
summer and winter dress. The ordinary colour is rich reddish brown above,
and white beneath, with a black tip to the tail. In the severe winters of
Northern Europe the Stoat exchanges his ruddy coat for one of pure white,
and is then known by the name of Ermine. It is remarkable that in the
winter dress both of the Ptarmigan and Stoat the tail is black, while the rest
of the coat is white.
The Trench.
We now come to a third mode of concealment in war, namely, that which is
obtained by means of Trenches or Pits.
Even in hunting the pit or partial trench is largely used. In Southern
Africa the hunter often employs such a trench, called technically a “Skärm.”
It is very simple in idea, and easily made, being based on the principle that
lions, elephants, &c., look for their assailants on the level of the earth, and
seldom, if ever, look above or below it. Accordingly the hunter, having
marked some pool or lake whereunto the wild animals resort at night to
quench their thirst, chooses a convenient spot, and there digs a trench some
seven feet in length and four deep, and covers it in with stout tree-branches
and logs of various size. The whole is roofed in with sods, and the only
entrance is at one end.
Here the hunter sits and waits, and, as his ear is on a level with the
surface of the ground, he can hear at a considerable distance sounds which
would have escaped him had he been erect.
Waiting for a favourable opportunity, as the various beasts come to
drink, the hunter chooses one, takes careful aim, and fires one of his
heaviest guns. It is but seldom that the rest of the animals charge in the
direction of the Skärm, but even if they do, the hunter is quite safe under the
shelter of his strong roof, which is able to resist even the heavy tread of an
elephant.

In modern warfare, and especially during sieges, the trench is largely

used, and is constructed on the most scientific principles, so as to shelter the
assailants, while enabling them to proceed nearer and nearer to the fortress.
A portion of one of these trenches is shown in the right hand of the
illustration.

On the opposite side of the same illustration is shown the same principle
as carried out in Nature.
There is a certain little insect, called the Wax-moth, or Galleria-moth
(Galleria alvearia), which, although quite harmless in its perfect form, is in
its larval state extremely injurious to beehives.
The mother moth contrives, aided by her tiny form and sombre
colouring, to slip past the sentries at the mouth of the hive, and to lay her
eggs among the combs. This done, she dies, but the evil of her visit lives
after her.
 Each of the eggs is hatched into a little caterpillar, having a soft grey
body, but a hard, horny head of a black-brown colour. As soon as they are
hatched they begin to feed, eating not only the waxen combs, but the honey
and the bee-bread which were intended for the support of the legitimate
inhabitants.
The reader may ask why the bees do not destroy this marauder on their
premises. They would be only too glad to do so, but they cannot touch it. As
it eats its way along, it constructs a strong silken tube, within which it lives,
and which it gradually lengthens. This tube or gallery is exceedingly tough,
and perfectly capable of resisting the bee’s sting. Moreover, the caterpillar
traverses its tube with such rapidity that the bee has no chance of knowing
whereabouts the caterpillar may be when it makes its attack. When it feeds
it only protrudes its armed head, the horny covering of which is an effectual
protection against the sting.
When these creatures fairly get hold of a hive, the damage which they do
is terrible, the whole of the combs being enveloped in the ever-increasing
labyrinth of tubes. Even the bees themselves fall victims to the Galleria-
moth, for the silken tunnels are driven through and through the combs,
enveloping the broad cells as in the meshes of a net. Consequently, when
the young bees are developed, they cannot escape from their cells, and
perish miserably.
Nor do these tiresome insects confine themselves to hives; but they have
an extraordinary facility for discovering bee-combs after they are removed
from the hive. Some years ago I was making a collection of various insect
habitations, and had brought together a carefully selected set of combs,
showing the internal structure of the hive, and the different cells which are
inhabited by the worker, the drone, and the queen bee.
One day, when about to arrange the collection in a glass case, I found
that the whole of the combs had been destroyed by the Wax-moth. Scarcely
a square inch of comb remained, and the contents of the box were little
more than a congeries of Wax-moth galleries. Even the Wasp and Hornet
nests which had been placed in the same box had been attacked, and,
although they had not been so utterly destroyed as the waxen cells, they had
been sufficiently injured to render them unfit for exhibition.
Many other insects work on the same principle. Certain Termites, for
example, construct tunnels of clay, in order to conceal them on their travels,
and have the art, even in the hottest and driest weather, of mixing their clay
with some liquid which renders it, when dry, nearly as hard as stone.
Indeed, there have been instances where the Termites have attacked the
wooden beams of houses, and literally transformed them into beams of
stone.
Then there are many Ants, notably several species of South America,
which cover their approach by tunnels, and never venture into the open air.
Gravity as a Propulsive Agent.
The two figures on the accompanying illustration will almost speak for
themselves.
We have already seen how the same force of gravitation which causes
the avalanche to thunder down the precipice may be utilised as a means of
projecting missiles in time of war. When, however, the stones or beams
were once sent on their destructive mission, they were out of the control of
those who launched them. We now come to a modification of the force of
Gravity, by which the missile, if we may so term it, is kept under control, its
power increased or diminished at will, and its point of attack shifted
according to the requirements of the moment.

Before the invention of artillery, the Battering-ram was by far the most
formidable engine that could be brought against a fortified place. The
principle of the Battering-ram was simple enough. A long and heavy beam,
generally the trunk of a tree, was suspended by ropes at the centre of
gravity, so that it could be swung backwards and forwards. Although a
simple beam was an effective weapon, its value was much enhanced by
loading the thickest end with a heavy mass of metal, usually iron, and,
when there was time for adornment, roughly modelled into the form of a
ram’s head.
Generally the Battering-ram was mounted on an elevated platform, and
the soldiers who worked it protected by a roof, which was called by the
name of Testudo, or Tortoise. The force of this weapon was tremendous,
and no wall, however strong, could resist it. Sometimes the beam was
considerably more than a hundred feet in length, being composed of several
pieces bolted and banded together with iron.
It may easily be imagined that such a weapon as this must have been a
most terrible one, and, indeed, the whole success of the siege practically
depended upon it. The assailants did their best to bring the Battering-ram
into position under the walls, and the besieged did their best either to keep it
away, or to neutralise its effects by catching it with nooses, dropping large
stones upon it so as to break or dismount it, or, if they could not succeed in
either of these attempts, they deadened the force of its blows as well as they
could by interposing large sacks of wool between the wall and the head of
the ram.
Considering the style of architecture which was then used in
fortification, namely, a combination of height with thickness, the force of
the Battering-ram would be even greater than that of artillery. The regular
and rhythmical swing of the ram would soon communicate a vibratory
motion to the wall, which would of itself tend to disintegrate the whole
structure, while the blows of the iron head beneath broke away the stones,
and rendered the downfall of the fort a mere matter of time.
The reader need hardly be reminded that the Battering-ram was so called
because its mode of attack was practically the same as that of the animal
from which it took its title.
Miscellanea.
By slow degrees, mankind, as they advance in civilisation, have robbed
warfare of many horrors. Non-combatants, for example, are now left
unharmed. Poisoned weapons have, by common consent, been abolished,
and so have those instruments of warfare which, though they do not simply
poison the blood by means of bodily wounds, do so by means of noxious
vapours poured into the lungs.
It is sometimes rather unfortunate when civilisation and semi-barbarism
meet in battle; the former respecting the customs of honourable warfare,
and the latter ignoring them. For example, in olden times, one of the most
potent weapons in naval combat was the “stink-pot”—i.e. a vessel filled
with sulphur and other ingredients, and emitting a smoke which was death
when inhaled. Among the American Indians the well-known Chili-plant was
much used for this purpose, the very first breath that was taken of the thin
and almost invisible smoke causing the throat to contract as if clutched by a
strong hand. If then any enemies had taken refuge in a cave, or were
suspected of having done so, a fire was lighted at the entrance, a quantity of
chilis thrown on it, and the rest left to time. No being could endure that
smoke and live, and they must either stay in the cave and die, or come out
and deliver themselves up to their foes. The former was the better part to
take, as suffocation, however slow, is only an affair of a few minutes, while
death by torture is prolonged through hours.

In the late Chinese war the stink-pot was extensively used, and our
sailors took it in very bad part that the enemy should be allowed to employ
such weapons, and they should be debarred from using them.
Whether this principle is still retained in the defence of fortresses I do
not know. I recollect, however, some twenty years ago, going over a fortress
in which suffocation was employed as a means of defence. A long gallery
was so placed that the assailants were tolerably sure to force their way into
it, thinking that it led to the interior of the fort.
It was, however, nothing but a trap, for it had no exit. As soon as a
number of the assailants had poured into this trap, their exit was suddenly
cut off by machinery provided for the purpose, and at the same time a
quantity of sulphur and lighted charcoal was shot into the gallery from
above, and the aperture instantly closed. It would be absolutely impossible
that any one who had been enclosed in that terrible chamber should escape
with life, for the first breath of that deadly vapour would render the
strongest man insensible.

Nature, as usual, has anticipated Art even in this particular.

In several parts of England, and especially along the shores of the
Thames towards Gravesend, a little beetle is to be found under the flat
stones of the river bank. Its scientific name is Brachinus crepitans. When
this insect is alarmed, it has the power of ejecting a peculiar liquid, which,
when it comes in contact with the atmosphere, bursts into a sort of pale
blue-green flame, followed by a kind of smoke. Sometimes, when a
tolerably large stone is lifted, the little explosions will go popping about in a
most curious manner. Indeed, they carry reminiscences of school days,
when it was a joy to distribute single grains of coarse gunpowder on the
bars of the grate, and watch them melt, take fire, explode, and send forth
little clouds of smoke. The insect is popularly called the Bombardier-beetle.
Whether or not this capability be given as a means of defence I cannot say,
but it assuredly answers that purpose.
There are several of the voracious Carabidæ, or Ground-beetles, which
would be very glad to make a meal of the Brachinus. When, however, the
Bombardier-beetle finds itself on the point of being overtaken, it elevates
the abdomen with a peculiar gesture, and ejects the liquid. The effect on the
pursuer is remarkable. It seems overwhelmed and stupefied by the sudden
attack, moves about for awhile as if blinded, and, by the time that it has
recovered its sense, the Bombardier-beetle is out of sight.
In some of the hotter parts of the world there are several species of
Bombardier-beetles which attain considerable size, and their discharge is
powerful enough to discolour the skin of the human hand.

I have felt some little difficulty in classifying the curious invention

which will now be described, but, as it is used for the purpose of making
bullets, I have placed it in the category of War.
 In the days of “Brown Bess,” as the old musket used to be called,
precision of aim was not required, for no commander dreamt of opening fire
until the enemy were at comparatively close quarters. In those days the
bullets were spherical, and cast in moulds. After a time, when the Enfield
rifle displaced the musket, and did double the execution at three times its
range, bullets were still cast, though their shape was altered, and they took a
sugar-loaf form instead of being spherical.
The rifle-testing machine at Woolwich, however, soon showed that at
long ranges a cast bullet was nearly useless, one part being always lighter
than another, and air-bubbles often taking the place of lead. After being
cast, therefore, the bullets were placed in a “swedge,” or “swage,” i.e. a
machine by which the lead was forcibly compressed until it was of a
tolerably uniform density. Even this process, however, did not insure
absolute exactness, and then a machine was invented by means of which the
process of casting was superseded, and the bullets were pinched or
squeezed, so to speak, out of cold lead.
On the right hand of the illustration is a plan of the ingenious apparatus
by which the lead is supplied to the machine which actually forms the
bullets. The sketch is not meant as a drawing of the actual machine, but is
merely intended to show the principle.
The chief parts in this machine are a hollow cylinder, a piston, and a
delivery tube. The cylinder is shown at A, and when used, is filled with
melted lead. The piston, B, is then forced upwards by hydraulic pressure,
driving the lead through the delivery tube. As it issues into the air it
hardens, and thus forms a solid rod of lead, C. This rod is then passed into
the next machine, where it is cut into regular lengths, and these pieces are
then placed in moulds, and forced into form by enormous pressure. Were it
not for this ingenious machinery, the wonderful scores which are now made
at long distances would be impossible.

Now let us compare Art with Nature, as seen on the left hand of the
illustration, which is a chart or plan of the spinning apparatus of the
Silkworm.
When I first saw the bullet-making machine at work, I at once perceived
that it was nothing more than a repetition in metal of the beautiful
mechanism which I had so often admired in this insect. In order to show the
close analogies of the two objects, I have marked them with similar letters.
A represents the upper part of the reservoir or vessel which contains the
silk in a liquid state, B B are the muscles which contract the reservoir and
force the liquid matter out. It will be seen that both these vessels terminate
in a delivery tube, identical in office with that of the bullet-making
machine. As soon as the liquid silk passes into the air it is hardened, and is
formed into a silken rod, C, just as is the lead in the machine. The only
difference between the two, if it can be called a difference, is, that in the
silkworm the rod is double, whereas in the machine it is single. The
principle, however, is identical in both cases. The webs of spiders, and the
threads by which so many caterpillars suspend themselves, and with which
they make their nests, are all formed on the same design, namely, a
reservoir containing a liquid which is squeezed through a tube, and hardens
when it comes in contact with the air.
 ARCHITECTURE.

CHAPTER I.
THE HUT, TROPIC AND POLAR.—PILLARS AND FLOORING.—TUNNEL
ENTRANCE OF THE IGLOO.—DOORS AND HINGES.—SELF-CLOSING TRAP-
DOORS.
Primitive Architecture evidently borrowed from the Lower Animals.—Roof Hut of the
Nshiego Mbouvé of Western Africa.—Platform Hut of the Orang-outan of Borneo.—
Lake Dwellers and their Huts.—Tree-huts of Southern Africa, and their Uses.—
Ascendancy of the Wild Beast over Man.—Snow-hut of the Seal copied by Esquimaux,
and its Value shown.—Pillars and Flooring.—Crypt and Cathedral.—The Cuttle
“Bone” and its many-pillared Structure.—The Wasp-nest, its Pillars and Floors.—
Tunnel Entrances to Igloo.—Sudden Formation of Snow.—Nest of the Fairy Martin.—
The Sand-wasp and its Mode of Building.—Doors and Hinges.—Eggs of the Gnat and
Rotifer.—Cocoons of Ichneumon-flies.—Habitations of Microgaster.—Trap-doors in
Nature and Art.—Habitation of the Trap-door Spider.—A Nest upon a Pillar.

The Hut.

T HERE can be little doubt that mankind has borrowed from the lower
animals the first idea of a dwelling, and it is equally true, as we shall
presently see, that not only primitive ideas of Architecture are to be
found in Nature, but that many, if not all, modern refinements have been
anticipated.
To begin at the beginning. The first idea of a habitation is evidently a
mere shelter or roof that will keep off rain from the inhabitant. When Mr.
Bowdich was travelling in Western Africa, he was told that the Njina—
another name for the Gorilla—made huts for itself from branches, the
natives also saying that it defended these huts with extemporised spears. A
more truthful account is given of the Mpongwe and Shekiani, namely, that
the animal builds a hut, but lives on the roof, and not under it.
Although this information has since proved to be false, there was a
foundation of truth in it, for there really is an ape in that part of Africa
which makes huts, or rather roofs, for itself. This animal is the Nshiego
Mbouvé (Troglodytes calvus).
 This remarkable ape has a curious way of constructing a habitation.
Choosing a horizontal branch at some distance from the ground for its
resting-place, the animal erects above it a roof composed of fresh branches,
each laid over the other in such a way that rain would shoot off them as it
does from a thatched roof. M. du Chaillu gives the following account of this
habitation:—

“As we were not in haste, I bade my men cut down the trees which
contained the nests of these apes. I found them made precisely as I have
before described, and as I have always found them, of long branches and
leaves laid one over the other very carefully and thickly, so as to render the
structure capable of shedding water.
“The branches were fastened to the tree in the middle of the structure by
means of wild vines and creepers, which are so abundant in these parts. The
projecting limb on which the ape perched was about four feet long.
“There remains no doubt that these nests are made by the animal to
protect it from the nightly rains. When the leaves begin to dry to that degree
that the structure no longer sheds water, the owner builds a new shelter, and
this happens generally once in ten or fifteen days. At this rate the Nshiego
mbouvé is an animal of no little industry.”
The roof which this ape builds is from six to eight feet in diameter, and
is tolerably circular, so that it looks something like a large umbrella. When
the animal is at rest it sits on the branch with one arm thrown round the
stem of the tree, in order to support itself during sleep. In consequence of
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