230 WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA 



deepest green. Sometimes the Caracara ex- 

 tended its scarlet blossoms from branch to branch, 

 and gave the tree the appearance as though it had 

 been hung with garlands. 



This delightful scenery of the Essequibo made 

 the soul overflow with joy, and caused you to rove 

 in fancy through fairy-land; till, on turning an 

 angle in the river, you were recalled to more 

 sober reflections on seeing the once grand and 

 towering mora, now dead and ragged in its top- 

 most branches, while its aged trunk, undermined 

 by the rushing torrent, hung as though in sorrow 

 over the river, which, ere long, would receive it, 

 and sweep it away forever. 



During the day, the trade-wind blew a gentle and 

 refreshing breeze, which died away as the night 

 set in, and then the river was as smooth as glass. 



The moon was within three days of being full, 

 so that we did not regret the loss of the sun, 

 which set in all its splendour. Scarce had he 

 sunk behind the western hills, when the Goat- 

 suckers sent forth their soft and plaintive cries; 

 some often repeating, "Who are you — who, who, 

 who are youf" and others, "Willy, Willy, Willy 

 come go." 



The Indian and Daddy Quashi often shook 

 their heads at this, and said they were bringing 

 talk from Yabahou, who is the evil spirit of the 

 Essequibo. It was delightful to sit on the branch 

 of a fallen tree, near the water's edge, and listen 

 to these harmless birds as they repeated their 

 evening song; and watch the owls and vampires 

 as they every now and then passed up and down 

 the river. 



