MYRIAPODS.—­The certainty with which an accidental pressure or unguarded touch is resented and retorted by a bite, makes the centipede, when it has taken up its temporary abode within a sleeve or the fold of a dress, by far the most unwelcome of all the Singhalese assailants.  The great size, too (little short of a foot in length), to which it sometimes attains, renders it formidable; and, apart from the apprehension of unpleasant consequences from a wound, one shudders at the bare idea of such hideous creatures crawling over the skin, beneath the innermost folds of one’s garments.

At the head of the Myriapods, and pre-eminent from a superiorly-developed organisation, stands the genus Cermatia:  singular-looking objects; mounted upon slender legs, of gradually increasing length from front to rear, the hind ones in some species being amazingly prolonged, and all handsomely marked with brown annuli in concentric arches.  These myriapods are harmless, excepting to woodlice, spiders, and young cockroaches, which form their ordinary prey.  They are rarely to be seen; but occasionally at daybreak, after a more than usually abundant repast, they may be observed motionless, and resting with their regularly extended limbs nearly flat against the walls.  On being disturbed they dart away with a surprising velocity, to conceal themselves in chinks until the return of night.

[Illustration:  CERMATIA.]

But the species to be really dreaded are the true Scolopendrae, which are active and carnivorous, living in holes in old walls and other gloomy dens.  One species[1] attains to nearly the length of a foot, with corresponding breadth; it is of a dark purple colour, approaching black, with yellowish legs and antennae, and its whole aspect repulsive and frightful.  It is strong and active, and evinces an eager disposition to fight when molested.  The Scolopendrae are gifted by nature with a rigid coriaceous armour, which does not yield to common pressure, or even to a moderate blow; so that they often escape the most well-deserved and well-directed attempts to destroy them, seeking refuge in retreats which effectually conceal them from sight.

[Footnote 1:  Scolopendra crassa, Temp.]

There is a smaller one[1], which frequents dwelling-houses, about one quarter the size of the preceding, of a dirty olive colour, with pale ferruginous legs.  It is this species which generally inflicts the wound, when persons complain of being bitten by a scorpion; and it has a mischievous propensity for insinuating itself into the folds of dress.  The bite at first does not occasion more suffering than would arise from the penetration of two coarsely-pointed needles; but after a little time the wound swells, becomes acutely painful, and if it be over a bone or any other resisting part, the sensation is so intolerable as to produce fever.  The agony subsides after a few hours’ duration.  In some cases the bite is unattended by any particular degree of annoyance, and in these instances it is to be supposed that the contents of the poison gland had become exhausted by previous efforts, since, if much tasked, the organ requires rest to enable it to resume its accustomed functions and to secrete a supply of venom.