THE WINGLESS BIRD.
The bill is long and slightly curved, having the nostrils at the extremity; its feathers, the sides of which are uniform in structure, do not exceed four and a-half inches in length, and are much prized as material for mantles or cloaks by the chiefs. It is a nocturnal bird, using its long bill in search of worms, upon which it principally feeds; it kicks with great power, and burrows at the root of the rata, at the base of which tree is also found the extraordinary Sphæria Robertsia, a species of vegetating caterpillar. Retaining the form of the caterpillar, the fungus pervades the whole body, and shoots up a small stem above the surface of the ground, the body of the caterpillar being below the earth in an erect position. The Apteryx frequently leans with its bill upon the earth—one of its chief characteristics—and thus, when viewed from a distance, appears to be standing on three legs.
By the natives of New Zealand, these birds are called Kiwis, from the cry they utter, and they are frequently caught by a cunning imitator of their tone, who, when they approach, dazzles and frightens them with a light previously concealed, and throwing his blanket over them thus secures them.
A FLOATING CITY.
FLOATING CITY OF BANKOK.
One of the most wonderful cities in the world is Bankok. It is the capital of Siam, and is situated on—or rather in—the great river Meinam. Our engraving represents a portion of this unique metropolis, and we find the following graphic account of it in a volume of recent travels—"The capital of Siam! Did you ever witness such a sight in your life? On either side of the wide, majestic stream, moored in regular streets and alleys, and extending as far as the eye can reach, are upwards of seventy thousand neat little wooden houses, each house floating on a compact raft of bamboos; and the whole intermediate space of the river presents to our astonished gaze one dense mass of ships, junks, and boats, of every conceivable shape, colour, and size. As we glide along amongst these, we occasionally encounter a stray floating house, broken loose from its moorings, and hurrying down the stream with the tide, amidst the uproar and shouts of the inhabitants and all the spectators. We also observe that all the front row of houses are neatly painted shops, in which various tempting commodities are exposed for sale; behind these again, at equal distances, rise the lofty and elegant porcelain towers of the various watts and temples. On our right-hand side, far away as we can see, are three stately pillars, erected to the memory of three defunct kings, celebrated for some acts of valour and justice; and a little beyond these, looming like a line-of-battle ship amongst a lot of cockle-shells, rises the straggling and not very elegant palace of the king, where his Siamese Majesty, with ever so many wives and children, resides. Right ahead, where the city terminates, and the river, making a curve, flows behind the palace, is a neat-looking-fort, surmounted with a tope of mango-trees, over which peep the roofs of one or two houses, and a tall flag-staff, from which floats the royal pendant and jack of Siam—a flag of red groundwork, with a white elephant worked into the centre. That is the fort and palace of the prince Chou Fau, now king of Siam, and one of the most extraordinary and intellectual men in the East. Of him, however, we shall see and hear more, after we have bundled our traps on shore, and taken a little rest. Now, be careful how you step out of the boat into the balcony of the floating house, for it will recede to the force of your effort to mount, and if not aware of this, you lose your balance and fall into the river. Now we are safely transhipped, for we cannot as yet say landed; but we now form an item, though a very small one, of the vast population of the city of Bangkok.