A NATURALIST IN BRAZIL 



It was difficult to turn from the incomparable picture framed in 

 my window, and to set about the work of the day. In the upper 

 cloisters I stood or sat by my breeding-cages ; the sun shone through 

 the lofty arches, and the fan-shaped crests of the palm-trees rose 

 above the silent courtyard. The little Brazilian hedge-sparrow, the 

 Carrixa, flew in, perched himself on one of the poles of the awning, 

 and broke into his cheerful, trilhng song. Then came breakfast in the 

 refectory; then "recreation", a pleasant time of wandering about 

 the cloister, a time of conversation, grave or gay, followed by the 

 work of the afternoon. But the best part of the day was when the 

 sun began to sink. Then I went into the garden, sat on my camp- 

 stool before the deep red funnels of the morning-glory, and watched 

 the humming-birds, which suddenly hung in the air before the 

 flowers as though suspended by invisible threads, while a faint hum 

 was emitted by their beating wings, and rays of light flashed from 

 their bronze-green plumage. With my field-glasses I followed the 

 movements of other birds, for new species were constantly making 

 their appearance ; I watched the insects awhile, and then, wandering 

 down the steep garden under the coconut-palms and genipa-trees, I 

 opened the door in the convent wall, and went down to the sea, the 

 palm-trees of the gardens on either hand rustling above my head 

 (Plate 8). 



It was a joy to lie down on the sand and surrender my lightly-clad 

 body to the caresses of the trade-wind, to the clean, invigorating, 

 brine-scented breath of the boundless ocean. The tall shafts of the 

 coconut-palms beside me stood out in bold relief in the horizontal 

 light, while the green and yellow shadows of the great feathery leaves 

 flashed with glittering reflections. 



Before me the sandy escarpment of the beach fell steeply, and 

 beyond it lay spread the ocean in the light of the setting sun. 

 The long, advancing rollers reared themselves, and broke, and fell, 

 spouting up, with a dull thunder, against the projecting walls. The 

 foaming crests flashed in the rosy light, lifting themselves bodily 

 from the blue-shadowed troughs of the swell, and in that tender 

 radiance there was something unearthly in their beauty. Far to the 

 south stood forth the islands of Recife, the stone houses glowing 

 with rosy light; a steamer was leaving the harbour, flying a long 

 pennon of following smoke. 



The fishing-boats, now approaching, now receding, gave an 

 elegiac note to the brilliant scene. When they approached the shore, 

 and the sails fell, it looked as though their occupants were sitting on 



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