They tell me that the public is not expected to "catch
on" to this marvel. It hangs its head too low, and the contrast of hues
is too startling. If that be so, we multiply schools of art and County
Council lectures perambulate the realm, in vain. The artistic sense is
denied us.
Madagascar also will furnish some astonishing novelties; it has already
begun, in fact--with a vengeance. Imagine a scarlet Cymbidium! That such
a wonder existed has been known for some years, and three collectors
have gone in search of it; two died, and the third has been terribly ill
since his return to Europe--but he won the treasure, which we shall
behold in good time. Those parts of Madagascar which especially attract
botanists must be death-traps indeed! M. Leon Humblot tells how he dined
at Tamatave with his brother and six compatriots, exploring the country
with various scientific aims. Within twelve months he was the only
survivor. One of these unfortunates, travelling on behalf of Mr. Cutler,
the celebrated naturalist of Bloomsbury Street, to find butterflies and
birds, shot at a native idol, as the report goes. The priests soaked
him with paraffin, and burnt him on a table--perhaps their altar. M.
Humblot himself has had awful experiences. He was attached to the
geographical survey directed by the French Government, and ten years ago
he found _Phajus Humblotii_ and _Phajus tuberculosus_ in the deadliest
swamps of the interior.
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