108 WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AIMERICA 



got thrown out of the box, and tumbled into the 

 river Po. 



Some of our modern bloods have been shallow 

 enough to try to ape this poor, empty-headed 

 coachman, on a little scale, making London their 

 Zodiac. Well for them, if tradesmen's bills, and 

 other trivial perplexities, have not caused them 

 to be thrown into the King's Bench. 



The productions of the torrid zone are uncom- 

 monly grand. Its plains, its swamps, its savan- 

 nas, and forests abound with the largest serpents 

 and wild beasts; and its trees are the habitation 

 of the most beautiful of the feathered race. 

 While the traveller in the old world is astonished 

 at the elephant, the tiger, the lion, and rhinoceros, 

 he who wanders through the torrid regions of the 

 new, is lost in admiration at the cotingas, the 

 toucans, the humming-birds, and aras. 



The ocean, likewise, swarms with curiosities. 

 Probably the Flying-fish may be considered as one 

 of the most singular. This little scaled inhabit- 

 ant of water and air seems to have been more 

 favoured than the rest of its finny brethren. It 

 can rise out of the waves, and on wing visit the 

 domain of the birds. 



After flying two or three hundred yards, the 

 intense heat of the sun has dried its pellucid 

 wings, and it is obliged to wet them in order to 

 continue its flight. It just drops into the ocean 

 for a moment, and then rises again and flies on; 

 and then descends to remoisten them, and then 

 up again into the air ; thus passing its life, some- 

 times wet, sometimes dry, sometimes in sunshine, 

 and sometimes in the pale moon's nightly beam, 



