200 CAMPS IN THE CARTBBEES. 



with the heavenly song." Naturalists have sought for 

 it, and residents of the island have tried to capture 

 it, but without success. Misled by its ventriloquial 

 music and deterred by the character of its rough re- 

 treats, they have returned bootless to the coast, almost 

 believing, with the negro, that it was indeed invisible. 

 The Indians avoided its haunts, and regarded with 

 veneration this bird that filled the air with unearthly 

 melody ; for generations they have preserved the tra- 

 dition of its existence, and vaguely associated it with 

 the tutelar deity of the volcano. 



The third night passed wearily. My blankets, ham- 

 mock, and garments were saturated by the mist, and 

 the air was so charged with sulphur fumes that it 

 seemed difficult to breathe. Toby rested uneasily ; 

 his uncomfortable couch and his anxiety regarding 

 his "stock" interfered with perfect repose. By the 

 aid of a line fastened to a stake, I managed to keep 

 my hammock moving, and thus rocked myself to 

 sleep ; but my naps were short and fitful, and fre- 

 quently interrupted. Toward the small hours I was 

 asleep and dreaming. The events of the preceding 

 days, and the constant reminder before me of that 

 catastrophe of sixty years before, w r hen this mountain 

 was shaken and rent and the fire in its bosom let loose, 

 gave shape to my dreams. I was living through that 

 terrible week in April, when the volcano vomited forth 

 the volume of ashes and fire that desolated the island ; 

 nay, more, I was camped upon its very summit. I 

 felt the heaving of the earth beneath, but could not 

 move ; I heard the gathering of those internal forces 

 preparatory to the bursting forth of flame and steam ; 

 the rumbling roar that came up from that subterranean 



