78 THE MANCHINEEL NOT POISON TO THE BIRDS. 



A sailor was cutting wood in the forest, when 

 his axe struck, by accident, one of these fatal trees. 

 The milky juice that started from the wound 

 touched his eyes, and blinded him. 



In the splendour of the forest, amid its glowing 

 flowers and gorgeous recesses, Death seems thus 

 to lurk in every form. Man might turn away in 

 dread, but the bird, on sapphire wing, and with 

 crest of emerald, plunges amid the poisons of 

 Nature, and revels in them. These dangerous 

 shades, where poisonous fruits gleam with a sinister 

 beauty, are haunted by the birds. 



The Parrakeet comes to the manchineel for a 

 repast. He devours the red apples with impunity ; 

 nay, he has his home amid the branches. Here is 

 his nest, and here he rears his brood in health and 

 vigour. 



The poison is not poison to him; it is his natural 

 food. 



