TIMES AND SEASONS. 



report like that of a musket, and the scattered 

 seeds are heard pattering among the leaves, and 

 then all relapses into silence again. Great butter- 

 flies, with wings of refulgent azure, almost too 

 dazzling to look upon, flap lazily athwart the 

 glade, or alight on the glorious flowers. Little 

 bright-eyed lizards, clad in panoply that glitters 

 in the sun, creep about the parasites of the great 

 trees, or rustle the herbage, and start at the 

 sounds themselves have made. Hark! There is 

 the toll of a distant bell. Two or three minutes 

 pass,— another toll! a like interval, then another 

 toll I Surely it is the passing bell of some convent, 

 announcing the departure of a soul. No such 

 thing; it is the note of a bird. It is the cam- 

 panero or bell-bird of the Amazon, a gentle little 

 creature, much like a snow-white pigeon, with a 

 sort of soft fleshy horn on its forehead, three 

 inches high. This appendage is black, clothed 

 with a few scattered white feathers, and being 

 hollow and communicating with the palate, it can 

 be inflated at will. The solemn clear bell-note, 

 uttered at regular intervals by the bird, is believed 

 to be connected with this structure. Be this as it 

 may, the silvery sound, heard only in the depth of 

 the forest, and scarcely ever except at midday, 

 when other voices are mute, falls upon the ear of 

 the traveller with a thrilling and romantic effect. 

 The jealously recluse habits of the bird have 

 thrown an air of mystery over its economy, which 

 heightens the interest with which it is invested. 



Before I speak of night, the most romantic of all 

 seasons to the naturalist, I must quote two de- 

 scriptions of sunset in regions rarely visited by 

 English travellers. The first scene was witnessed 

 from that rugged mountain-chain which divides 

 two quarters of the globe. We have just looked 

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