Ceylon contains a varied assortment of ants, and some of them are great nuisances: they swarm over everything, and seem to consider that the house and all it contains belong to them. There is one variety that is a terror to every living thing; it is about an inch long, and has a pair of powerful jaws with which it inflicts a severe wound. It is formidable in consequence of always moving in great numbers, and when it is once started there is hardly anything that will stop it. [Illustration: AN ARMY OF ANTS ON THE MOVE.] An army of these ants will march through a forest, and make a road a yard or more in width that resembles a well-trodden path. When hungry they spread out over the fields and devour every green thing, and they can kill cattle, horses, and even large snakes that happen in their way. It is said that their favorite way of killing a snake is by first biting his eyes out, and when they have reduced him to a condition of blindness his capture is comparatively easy. They eat every particle of flesh and leave the bones, and if a skeleton that they have operated on can be found before the bones are scattered by the wild beasts, it is in exactly the condition required for a museum. They show great ingenuity in crossing rivers, and their performances have a strong resemblance to reason. When they come to a stream they search for an overhanging tree, and as soon as they have discovered it a lot of ants proceed to the end of the branch that reaches the farthest over the water. Here they form a chain by linking their bodies together, and the one at the end of the chain grasps a branch on the opposite side, and thus completes a suspension-bridge, by which the rest of the army can cross. When all are over the bridge dissolves and brings up the rear. If the overhanging branch does not reach to the other side, they swing the living chain till the ant at the lower end can seize hold of something, and sometimes they give it additional strength by throwing out guy-ropes or braces of strings of ants. It was proposed to take a ride to Wockwalla, a famous place near Point de Galle. There were several carriages in front of the hotel, and one of them was engaged for the ride, with the understanding that the return would be made through the cinnamon gardens. The ride was through a rich tropical forest, and the boys both agreed that they had seen no forest more luxuriant than this since they left Java. The trees for much of the way overhung the road, and sheltered the travellers from the sun; and at almost every step they caught sight of birds playing among the branches. Small boys ran after them with bunches of jasmine and other flowers for sale, and one of the youths bought a bunch of mace which was just blooming, and showing the brown nutmeg inside. They regretted that they could not carry it home just as it was, and show their friends the great beauty of the nutmeg-tree when it puts forth its flowers.