318 GYRANTES. — COLUMBAD^. 



tervals, sounds like the groaning of a dying man. 

 These moans, heard in the most recluse and solemn 

 glens, while the bird is rarely seen, have probably 

 given it the name of Mountain Witch. 



About a score yards from the high road, just 

 opposite Bluefields gate, is a house lately occupied, 

 but now deserted ; the space between it and the 

 road is now overgrown with young trees sprung up 

 with the luxuriance of tropical vegetation, and is 

 already a wilderness. Among the bushes, the castor- 

 oil plant and the physic-nut are numerous; and 

 under these in the dry season, the Whitewings as- 

 semble in search of seeds. One day in November, 

 Sam had gone thither to set a springe, when he 

 was surprised by the sight of a Mountain Witch 

 on the ground almost close to him. He had, the 

 moment before, discharged his gun, and it shows 

 the fearlessness of this beautiful bird, that it had 

 not flown at the report. Immediately on the dis- 

 covery, the lad drew back to re-load, but before 

 he could accomplish this, the bird began to run, 

 and was presently lost among the bushes. On several 

 successive days it was seen at the same spot, in- 

 variably on the ground ; generally it allowed a very 

 close approach, running when the lad advanced, 

 but stopping to gaze if he stopped. As it stood 

 it was observed to jerk the tail in the manner of 

 the Pea-dove. At length Sam shot it. It was a 

 young bird, rather smaller in size and less iridescent 

 than the adult. Its craw was full of castor-oil nuts, 

 and contained also a little snail. This is the only 

 instance, I ever heard of, in which this species 



