EVENING. 325 



our heads in little parties, each Mnd seeking the fre- 

 quented roosting-tree ; the Jabbering Crow flits along 

 with its strange guttural talk ; the great Potoo hoots 

 from yonder stump ; the White Owl shrieks in the sky. 

 Now the loud harsh screams of the Aramus pierce the 

 wood, coming down from the stony hill-side ; the 

 cracked voice of the Gecko proceeds from the hollow 

 tree ; and the shrill metallic note of some Tree-frog, 

 singularly sharp and penetrating, rises from every part 

 of the woods below us. 



The Night-blowing Cactus is opening its large and 

 beautiful disk of petals like a sun, and its fragrance is 

 almost overpowering. The perfume of a thousand 

 other flowers is now brought out by the falling dew ; 

 and large dusky moths are hurrying to and fro to 

 enjoy their nectar. And now, queen of night, the 

 moon arises ; and scores of wakeful Mocking-birds 

 salute her beam, and begin their rich and varied notes, 

 which are to fill the night with music. Fireflies are 

 shooting through the glooms, making lines of ruddy 

 or green light, or glowing like torches as they sit upon 

 the dewy leaves. 



We are again on the shore. Beauteous Jamaica, 

 good-night ! 



