TIMES AND SEASONS. 



dour of its decoration, and peculiarly interesting 

 to the philosophic naturalist as being a connect- 

 ing link between the true butterflies and the 

 moths. This lovely creature, I discovered, was in 

 the habit of appearing just as the sun broke from 

 the sea, and congregating by scores around the 

 summit of one tall forest- tree then in blossom, 

 filling the air with their lustrous and sparkling 

 beauty, at a height most tantalising for the col- 

 lector, and after playing in giddy flight for about 

 an hour, retiring as suddenly as they came. 



In these excursions I was interested in marking 

 the successive awakening of the early birds. Pass- 

 ing through the wooded pastures and guinea- 

 grass fields of the upland slopes, while the stars 

 were twinkling overhead, while as yet no indica- 

 tion of day appeared over the dark mountain- 

 peak, no ruddy tinge streamed along the east; 

 while Venus was blazing like a lamp, and shed- 

 ding as much light as a young moon, as she 

 climbed up the clear, dark heaven among her fel- 

 low-stars ;— the nightjars were unusually vocifer- 

 ous, uttering their singular note, "wittawitta- 

 wit," with pertinacious iteration, as they careered 

 in great numbers, flying low, as their voices 

 clearly indicated, yet utterly indistinguishable to 

 the sight from the darkness of the sky across 

 which they flitted in their triangular traverses. 

 Presently the flat-bill uttered his plaintive wail, 

 occasionally relieved by a note somewhat less 

 mournful. When the advancing light began to 

 break over the black and frowning peaks, and 

 Venus waned, the peadove from the neighbouring 

 woods commenced her fivefold coo, hollow and 

 moaning. Then the petchary, from the top of a 

 tall cocoa-palm, cackled his three or four rapid 

 notes, "op, pp, p, q;" and from a distant 

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