Rio de Janeiro 63 



score of vultures; near by in the trees several species 

 of cicadas were singing their vespers ; that gaudy, noisy, 

 and popular South American songster, the Bienteveo 

 (Pitangus bolivianus) was calling from tree to tree; a 

 dozen birds, all of them strangers to me in life, were 

 flitting about and making the gardens vocal with song. 

 Far away was the blue horizon of the ocean ; the shining 

 roadstead of the harbor gleamed brightly under the 

 westering sun; all around the strange huge bulks of 

 the mighty cliffs and escarpments, recalling the bold 

 faces of the mountains which encircle the Valley of the 

 Yosemite, loomed skyward. The distant booming cf 

 cannon, the faint jangling of bells, the noises of rejoicing 

 in the city came softly to the ear. It was delightful 

 to sit in the waning light of a lovely sunset, amidst the 

 languorous tropical air, and in solitude drink in deeply 

 the impressions of the hour. 



I was roused from my reveries by a droning beetle, 

 which wavered a moment in its flight, and fell a victim 

 to my net. I realized that out of the herbage around 

 me were issuing the swarms of insects which emerge 

 at dusk. The electric lights about the hotel were already 

 beginning to twinkle. I made my way downward by the 

 path I had come, and found myself presently under the 

 electric lamps busily engaged in sweeping into my net 

 beautiful creatures, large and small, some of which I 

 knew at a glance as old friends and others I recognized 

 as forms which were strange to me. At the dinner 

 table the attention of the throng of fashionably dressed 

 ladies and gentlemen was attracted to a large moth, 

 brilliantly colored, which came fluttering about the 

 tables. I slipped into the hall and seized my net, and 

 as the gay insect came by, with a quick stroke captured 

 it; I was greeted with a salvo of applause from the 



