THE NATURAL AND CIVIL HISTORY OF
CEYLON.

VII. THE PEARL FISHERY.

THE Pearl Fishery is, perhaps, upon the whole, the most interesting thing connected with this remarkable island. The number of persons who assemble when the season for pearl-diving commences, is from fifty to sixty thousand, consisting of divers, mariners, merchants, and tradesmen of every description. "The fishery is described by Cæsar Frederick and a variety of authors. He informs us that the divers were chiefly Christians of Malabar in his time. They are now a mixture of that description of Roman Catholics and Hindoos; but the superstitions practised to preserve the divers from the sharks, and other dangers of their profession, are all Hindoo. Several fanatics are well paid for their attendance during the fishery for that purpose; and the sharks are as obedient to the conjuration of a Brahmin, as they could be to that of a Malabar priest, for the charm is by no means efficacious. Those who wish to inquire further into the detail, will meet with a very excellent account in the Asiatic Researches, vol. v., by Mr. Le Beck; in that paper, he will find that this fishery which used to produce twenty thousand pounds to the Portuguese and Dutch, produced in the year 1797 a hundred and fifty thousand under the management of the English."

"In the age of the Periplus, none but condemned criminals were employed in this service; a practice common to all the natives of the ancient world, in their mines, in their galleys, in the construction of their public buildings, and execution of all their public works. The mines of Potosi are still worked by slaves, where the same miseries are experienced, as Agatharchides has depicted in the gold-mines of Egypt; while in Europe, or at least in England, we never want freemen to work in our collieries, in our mines of tin, lead, or copper, whose labour is procured and whose dangers are compensated by the higher price they obtain for the services they are to perform *.

At certain seasons the pearl-oysters are seen floating about on the sea, covering a great extent of surface, and so extremely minute as to appear like the spawn of fish. In this state they are carried by the currents round the coasts of Ceylon, until their increased size causes them to sink, when they form beds, from which a very considerable revenue is derived. The best oysters are those taken from the banks of Arippo, near the gulf of Minar, which are usually found in from five and a half to seven fathoms of water. The best pearls are generally taken from the most fleshy part of the oyster, near the hinge of the shell; but they are likewise found in all parts of the fish, and adhering to the shells. There have occasionally been found upwards of a hundred pearls of different sizes in a single oyster. All the oysters do not contain pearls, which are supposed to be produced by disease in the fish. If a pearl be cut, it is found to consist of a succession of lamina like the onion, and is no doubt composed of the same matter as the shell. Notwithstanding the treasure which these oysters contain, a bushel of them may be purchased off Arippo, during the fishing-season, for a less sum than a bushel of common oysters at Feversham or Colchester.

The boats used at the pearl-fisheries are from eight to fifteen tons burden, and without decks. The head and stern are nearly alike, the latter having a slight curve, and the stern-post being generally straight. They have no keel; the bottom is round; the breadth of the boat increasing to the top of the gunwale. These boats are rigged with one rude mast, and carry one lug-sail, made of light cloth, loosely sewed to a tight coire rope, so that it blows out very much. From these rude fittings the boats are subject to frequent accidents, and often require to be towed to the shore. They leave the shore with a land-wind about midnight, and proceed to the bank, a distance of from nine to twelve miles. If they reach it before daylight, they anchor close by the government guard-vessel, which is always stationed there, having lights hoisted at night to direct the boats to the bank. The men begin to dive as soon as there is light enough to see, and continue their labours till noon, when a gun is fired from the guard-vessel for the diving to cease. The weather is generally calm during the fishing period, the slightest interruption of which is an insurmountable obstacle to the continuance of their pursuit.

The crew of a boat consists of a tindal or master, ten * VINCENT's Periplus of the Erythrean Sea.

divers, and thirteen other men who manage the boat and attend to the divers when fishing. Each boat has five diving-stones, the ten divers relieving each other, so that five are constantly at work during the hours of fishing. The weight of the diving-stones varies from fifteen to twenty-five pounds, according to the size of the diver: some stout men find it necessary to have from four to eight pounds of stone in a waist-belt, to enable them to keep at the bottom, till they have filled their net with oysters. The form of a diving-stone resembles a pine, and is suspended by a double cord. The net is eighteen inches deep, fastened to a hoop eighteen inches in diameter, slung to a single cord.

On preparing to commence fishing, the diver strips off his clothes, having only a narrow slip of cloth round the loins. After offering up his devotions, he plunges into the water and swims to the diving-stone, which the attendants have hung over the boat's side; he then places the toes of his right foot between the double cord of the diving-stone; the coil of the double cord being passed over a stick projecting from the side of the boat, he is enabled, by grasping all parts of the rope, to support himself and the stone, and raise or lower the latter for his own convenience, while he remains at the surface; he now puts his left foot on the hoop of the net, and presses it against the diving-stone, retaining the cord in his hand, the attendants taking care that the cords are clear for running out of the boat.

Many divers will not venture to descend until the sharkcharmer is on the bank, and has secured the mouths of the sharks; while some are provided with a written charm from their priests, which they wrap up in oilcloth, perfectly secured from the water, and dive with it on their persons. Others, being Roman Catholics, appear satisfied with an assurance from their priest, that they have his prayers for their protection; but I am informed they are all happy to secure the interest of the shark-charmer, who is paid by the government, besides being allowed a perquisite of ten oysters from every boat daily, during the fishery. These empirics have all the resolute audacity of their trade; they maintain their power with the most impertinent eloquence, and should a shark happen to give the lie to their pretensions, they are instantly ready with the most ingenious excuses, and so complete is their ascendency over the credulity of the divers, that an accident from a shark never awakens the slightest mistrust of the power of these impostors to keep them off.

Captain Stewart, in a paper published in the Transactions of the Royal Asiatic Society, mentions a circumstance which strongly characterizes the impudent pretensions of these shark-charmers. He had frequently urged one of them to charm a shark to appear along-side the vessel in which Captain Stewart then was; but the wily rogue declined doing it, though he positively maintained it to be in his power, on the ground that it would not be right, his business being to send them away. “During the few days," says Captain Stewart, "that we were employed marking off the ground to be fished, a shark was seen and reported to me. I instantly sent for the shark-charmer to be brought before me, and desired him to account for permitting a shark to appear at a time when alarm might have a serious influence on the success of the fishery. He replied that I had frequently requested him to summon a shark to appear, and he had therefore allowed this one the liberty to please me."

The number of oysters secured during the period of the fishery, which is about a month, is prodigious. One boat has been known to bring to land in one day as many as thirty-three thousand. These are regularly deposited in heaps, as they are brought ashore, where they are allowed to remain, until they become putrid, this being necessary in order to remove the pearls easily from the tough matter by which they are surrounded. They are then thrown into large square receptacles, enclosed by walls about a foot high, for the better preservation of the pearls. These compartments communicate by four uncovered drains of gradual descent, with a small bath in the centre of the enclosure, so that whatever pearls are swept away by accidental rains, or the washing of the oysters, are carried into this cistern, and none can be lost. Where there are no pavements of the above description, the oysters are heaped on double mats spread upon the sand within railed enclosures; at the gate of each of which + See Saturday Magasine, Vol. II., p. 5.

a constant guard is kept for the prevention of thefts. But notwithstanding all the vigilance that can be used, pilfering prevails through the different scenes of the fishery to a great extent. The divers, the boatmen, the persons employed in washing the oysters and sifting the sand, leave no expedient untried to accomplish frauds. Even the peons employed as a check upon the labourers, have been known to attach a viscous substance to the end of their canes, and thus extract from the washing-troughs valuable pearls with the very instruments used to punish similar delinquents.

When the oysters are in a state of sufficient decay to be washed, a portion of them is thrown into a canoe fifteen feet in length, three in breadth, and as many in depth. This canoe is filled with salt water, in which the oysters are allowed to remain for twelve hours, in order that the putrid substance may become perfectly soft, and be thus the more readily disengaged from the maggots, which float upon the surface and are easily thrown out. From twelve to fifteen naked men are ranged along the sides of the canoe, which is a little elevated at one end, so as to allow the water to run off, when it is full. The oysters are taken up one by one, the shells broken from one another, and washed in the water. The stench proceeding from the canoe during this operation, is the most disgusting that can be conceived. The labourers and overseers, however, remain, from habit, apparently insensible to the horrible odour, and prosecute their business without expressing any disagreeable sensations. Those shells which have pearls adhering to them are thrown on one side, and afterwards handed to clippers, whose business it is to disengage the pearls from the shells by means of a forceps and hammer. These pearls, imperfect and deformed as they invariably are, have been generally estimated at forty pagodas per pound-weight, and have occasionally reached the price of sixty-four. The roundest and best of them are rendered fit to be strung with other pearls. Many of them are used for setting in brooches and rings. The refuse is mixed with the sand-pearl and sold to make chunam for the palates of certain Chinese epicures, from whom it may be presumed Cleopatra learned the luxury of swallowing pearls. This part of the produce of the pearl-fishery is sufficient to pay the wages of all the servants and labourers employed, and to cover every other incidental expense.

When all the shells are thrown out of the canoe, the slimy substance of the oysters, turned into mud, remains at the bottom, mixed with sand and small fragments of shells. The dirty water is drawn off in buckets from the lower end of the canoe and emptied into a sack, hung like a jelly-bag; thus no pearls can escape. Clear water is then poured in at the upper end of the canoe; three or four men stir up the putrescent mass and sand with their hands from the lower end, and prevent the pearls from being washed down. These sink to the bottom and are kept back by raised pieces of wood, left in hollowing out The large pearls are now distinctly seen; the whole of the refuse matter is taken from the canoe, and the bag spread out on a coarse cloth to dry in the sun*. J. H. C.

the canoe.

See CORDINER'S History of Ceylon, vol. ii., p. 59.

HAYDN used to relate, with much pleasure, a dispute which he had with a music-seller in London. Amusing himself one morning, after the English fashion, in shopping, he inquired of a music-seller if he had any select and beautiful music? "Certainly," replied the shopman, "I have just printed some sublime music of Haydn's." Oh," returned Haydp, “I'll have nothing to do with that." "How, sir, you will have nothing to do with Haydn's music! And pray what fault have you to find with it?" "Oh, plenty; but it is useless talking about it, since it does not suit me: show me some other." The music-seller, who was a warm Haydnist, replied, "No, sir, I have music, it is true, but not for such as you;" and turned his back upon him. As Haydn was going away, smiling, a gentleman of his acquaintance entered, and accosted him by name. The music-seller, still out of humour, turned round at the name, and said to the person who had just entered the shop: "Haydn !-ay, here's a fellow who says he does not like that great man's music." The Englishman laughed; an explanation took place, and the musicseller was made acquainted with the man who found fault with Haydn's music.-Life of Haydn.

The hand that made them is divine.

The Geologist investigates the crust of the earth. He observes the nature of its strata,-the position superiorly of such as are porous and permeable deeper down, those that are tenacious and resisting. He recognises in this arrangement the source of "the rivers that run among the hills." He observes that had this order been reversed, the rain which falls from heaven would have deluged the surface of the earth without penetrating its bosom, and would in wild devastating torrents have swept from its face those fruits and plants that it now so beneficently nourishes and evolves.

The two

The Chemist analyzes what were formerly looked on as elementary substances. In the air he finds two gases, one of which is by itself fatal to animal life, while an undue proportion of the other would change the air we breathe into a corrosive poison, yet they are mixed in such proportions as to form the compound most suited to support that curious vital phenomenon, respiration. And whether this compound be examined in the depths of the lowest mines, or at the greatest heights to which men have ascended, the proportions of this combination are found to be unvaried. He examines the earths; he considers their use for the growth and support of plants; and he asks himself what should they consist of for this purpose. Plants he finds to contain oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, and salts. former can be derived from the air that surrounds the water which moistens them; for the latter, they are dependent on the soil in which they are rooted, However various the composition of this soil, it consists essentially of two parts. One is a certain quantity of earthy matters, such as clay, lime, and magnesia: the other is formed from the remains of animal and vegetable substances, which, when mixed with the former, constitute common mould. The rain, then, percolating through this mould, dissolves the soluble salts with which it comes in contact, together with the gaseous, extractive, and other matters formed by the decomposition of animal and vegetable remains. Saturated with these nutritious matters it is presented to the roots, by them it is readily absorbed and sent as sap to the leaves, there, by exposure to air, to undergo the final process of assimilation.

The Botanist here steps in, and adds his mite to that beautifully continuous train of evidence, which, like the golden chain of the poet, binds together heaven and earth. He observes the beautiful adaptation of the plant, to the soil in which it is intended to grow. The stately red mangrove springs in a wet and boggy soil which could scarcely support it erect against the first passing breeze. But how wisely is this cared for! It arises from several roots, each root rising some feet above the earth before it unites with its fellows to form the trunk: further, slender

shoots about three inches in circumference, quite bare, and jointed, grow from the trunk and branches in great abundance, then descend into the earth,

take root, and thus afford support to the parent stem. The cocoa, which is a large tree of the shores of the torrid zone, grows in pure sand, which it interlaces with such a prodigious quantity of fibres, as to form around it a solid mass. It is on this basis that it withstands the most furious tempests in the midst of a moving soil.

A constant supply of moisture is necessary to the life of the plant; and when the thirsty soil fails to impart this through the root, how beautiful is the provision that enables the leaves to absorb the aqueous vapour from the atmosphere, and by the faculty they possess of radiating heat, so to reduce their temperature during the night, as to cause the deposition on themselves of "the gentle dew from heaven."

Heat is essential for evolving and maturing the delicate organs on which the reproduction of the plant depends. The organs are situated in the centre of the blossom, which, gathering the rays, reflects them in on its tender charge; an effect very much increased by its general incurved form. But what colours are most favourable to the reflection of heat?

Science has shown that light colours reflect, while dark absorb. But although this fact was so long undiscovered by science, how skilfully has it been taken advantage of by Almighty Wisdom! "Consider the lilies of the field." Is not the dazzling whiteness of the snowdrop, the delicate tint of the hyacinth, the narcissus, and the early anemone, intended to reflect the chill rays of a wintry sun, and to increase to the utmost the scanty heat it affords? Is not this intention assisted by their general low-lying position, which exposes them to all the heat the earth radiates? while the deep colours and lofty stems of the summer and autumnal flowers, clearly evince that such contrivance was here needless, and was therefore omitted. With equal care are they guarded against the effects of a too-scorching heat; and while with us they are found in the meadows, enamelling the soil, between the tropics they are raised aloft, and made the ornaments of the forest, which by its foliage shelters them from the blaze of the mid-day sun, while, by their situation, they are sufficiently removed from the parched and burning earth.

How beneficent was it of Divine goodness to ordain, that corn, so necessary to the support of man, should grow, not on bulky vegetables, requiring much space and length of time for reproduction, but on small slender plants, which spring up almost as soon as the seed is put into the ground. In the former case, the destruction of a crop would have been followed by famine for many years; in the latter, there is nothing more than inconvenience for a few months.

But, beyond all measure, the most interesting as referring to the curious and intricate of the works of the Almighty, are the discoveries of the anatomist and naturalist. Every step he makes in the acquaintance with nature, every new fact that he discovers, opens to him such a boundless exhibition of wisdom, goodness, and mercy, that,

Transported with the view, he's lost
In wonder, love, and praise.

He observes the countless tribes of fishes "that have their way in the deep, and occupy themselves in the great waters." How admirably is their shape adapted to cleaving their way through the watery element; how powerful the muscles of the tail, by which chiefly they are propelled; how ingenious the situation and construction of the air-bladder, by which they are enabled to rise or sink at pleasure; but, above all, how beautiful is the mechanism of their respiration!

That which to animals with lungs would be painful and laborious, is, by the substitution of gills, rendered easy, and free from trouble. The fish fills its mouth with water, and, instead of swallowing, suffers it to pass through its gills. To each branch of the gills is distributed a vein and artery, by means of which the blood is exposed to the vivifying principle contained in the water, or in the air which is held dissolved in the water; and tuus the same change is produced as in us by the passage of the blood through the lungs,-it is arterialized, and rendered fit for the nutriment of the body.

In birds the great object seems to have been lightness, to enable them to soar through the spacious fields of air, the element it was intended they should occupy. For this purpose their bones are hollow, and filled with air; their lungs are continuous, with a number of air-sacs, which run down into the abdomen, occupying much space with little weight, while, at the same time, they assist in the rapid aëration of the blood, so necessary to animals of such quickness of motion and rapidity of impulse. Their wings are widely extended, in comparison with the size of their bodies, by which means they are enabled to condense a considerable body of air, which, by its elasticity, assists them in their flight. To enable them to maintain their position in the air, it is necessary that the centre of gravity should lie beneath the line of their wings, else they would tumble over in their flight. To attain this object, one of the large muscles for elevating the wing is actually placed with the depressors of the wing on the front of the breast, and made to turn, as it were, over a pulley, to gain the back of the pinion, and enable it to exert its proper action. The means by which a bird, while sleeping, maintains its hold on the branch, is equally admirable. The tendon running from the muscle, which is situated high up on the thigh, to the extremities of the talons, runs behind the joint, or elbow, of the leg. As the bird sits down, this joint is bent, and the tendon passing over it, is, of course, strained; from which results, mechanically, the closure of the talons round the object on which they are placed, and thus, without any muscular exertion, the hold is kept while the bird sleeps.

And now, as we approach man, and the higher order of animals, facts crowd on us in such countless abundance, in such rich profusion, that we know not how to reject, or which to select. They are too important to be curtailed, too numerous to be inserted at the end of an article. But, before we part, let us glance with our mind's eye over the few, but interesting, facts we have collected. Let us observe their exquisite ingenuity, their beautiful adaptation and suitability to circumstances. And shall we then attribute them to a blind chance,—an indiscriminating destiny. No; we shall not so far insult our reason. Voiceless though they be, they declare, in language not to be misunderstood, the existence of an ever-wise and ever-bounteous Creator, "God over all, blessed for ever." P. B. L.

MORNAY.

THE PHYSALIA, OR PORTUGUESE MAN

OF WAR. (Physalia pelagica.) THE Physalia is one of those singular inhabitants of the deep which delight us by their beautiful colours, and by their phosphorescent light, and astonish the incautious observer by their power of stinging or benumbing the hand when touched. We have already,

these seem to consist of a chain of globules, filled with an extremely acrid fluid; in colour, a beautiful purple, with an admixture of crimson. Mr. Bennet, in his Polynesian Wanderings, relates the effects of its sting. "I was desirous of trying its effects on myself, for the purpose of ascertaining from personal experience, the constitutional irritative effects resulting from it. On taking hold of the animal, it raised its tentacula, and stung me on the second and ring fingers: the sensation was similar at first to that produced by the nettle, and before a few minutes had elapsed, a violent aching pain succeeded, affecting more severely the joints of the fingers; on cold water being applied, it was found rather to increase than diminish the effects. In a quarter of an hour, the fore-arm and elbow were severely affected; till at length it became almost unbearable, and gradually extended itself to the shoulder and chest, and impeded the breathing. These symptoms continued for about half an hour, when they gradually abated; but the arm was benumbed for the remainder of the day."

in describing the phosphorescence of the sea*, noticed several curious creatures which have some resemblance to the Physalia.

The species represented above are common in most of the seas of the hot climates of the world, are well known to the mariners of most nations, and have received many uncommon names,-Portuguese men-of-war, Guinea-ships, frigates, sea-bladders, &c., from their fancied resemblance, when floating on the surface, to vessels in full sail. When first taken out of the water, the Physalia excites the admiration of the spectators, by the elegant and vivid colours with which it is adorned. These tints, however, are as evanescent as they are brilliant; and soon after this animal is taken from its native element, the crest sinks; the bright crimson, green, and purple tints, lose their brilliancy; and the beauty which had previously excited so much admiration, fades; and at last totally vanishes. The upper part of the animal, when floating, is surmounted with a kind of crest or ridge, formed by a membranous bag, which, it is said, the animal has the power of inflating at pleasure; but this is disputed by a recent observer. This bag or crest is fringed round the edges, and is of a beautiful light-blue colour, with occasional streaks of a delicate sea-green, tinged with crimson. The power it possesses of benumbing, when touched, appea's to reside in its tentacula, or feelers, a large bunch of which are attached to the undermost part of its body, some short and thick, others long and threadlike, and extending to several yards in length; * See Saturday Magazine, Vol. V., p. 204.

FILIAL AFFECTION OF THE CHINESE.

THE Chinese are remarkable for the extraordinary respect which they pay to their parents. If it even be true, as some writers assert, that with these people filial reverence is not so much a moral feeling as a precept which in the course of time has acquired all the force of a positive law, and that filial piety exists rather in the maxims of the government than in the hearts of the subjects, still it wears an appearance of a virtue, that demands admiration. The Chinese writers have carefully recorded a great number of remarkable instances of filial piety.

A boy, eight years of age, gave a very affecting proof of affection for his parents. They were so poor, that they could not afford to procure a kind of curtain, which is commonly used in the hot countries of the east to defend persons in bed from troublesome insects, called mosquitoes, and which is thence named a mosquito-curtain. The poor boy strove in various ways to protect his parents from the painful bites of these insects, but in vain. At length, he hit upon a contrivance, which shows that no sacrifice is too great for real affection. When his parents had retired to rest, he seated himself by their bed, stripped off his clothes to the waist, and suffered the mosquitoes to settle upon him, without driving them away. "When they have filled themselves with my blood," said he, "they will not disturb my parents."

But the duties of children towards their parents are not limited to the duration of the lives of the latter. During the period of mourning for them, which is twenty-seven months, public officers are not allowed to perform any kind of business. It is not uncommon for a family to expend the whole of the property left behind by a parent on his funeral; and when children are not in circumstances to bury a father in a respectable manner, they will keep his coffin for several years. These observations will serve to illustrate the following narrative.

A man, having been apprehended on a charge of having committed an offence against the state, escaped from the custody of his guards, and sought refuge with his friend

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Loo-nan-kin. His retreat was discovered. Loo-nan-kin was imprisoned, and preparations were making for his trial, when the younger brother came forward. It is I who harboured the fugitive," said he, "of course I ought to die, and not my brother." Loo-nan-kin, on the other hand, declared that he alone was guilty, and that his brother had falsely accused himself. The judge crossquestioned the young man with such skill, as to involve him in contradictions, and he was at length obliged to confess the imposture. "Alas!" said he, "I had strong reasons for acting thus: it is a long time since our mother died, and we have not yet been able to pay her the duties of sepulture. We have, moreover, a sister unmarried. My elder brother alone has it in his power to provide for these exigencies; so that it were better for me to die in his stead. I conjure you, therefore, to receive my evidence." The judge was deeply affected: he reported this instance of filial piety and brotherly love to the supreme tribunal, and the emperor pardoned the culprit.