THE ROMANCE OF NATURAL HISTORY. 



catalpa tree were conspicuous just under my win- 

 dow, and gushes of rich fragrance came up from a 

 clematis which thickly covered the trellis-work of 

 the ladies' arbour. The solemn forest, with its 

 serried ranks of primeval trees, girdled-in the little 

 garden, and lay dark and vague beyond. It was 

 too early for the noisy cicadae that in the later 

 summer make the woods ring with their pertina- 

 cious crinking, and not a sound broke the pro- 

 found silence. Every element was poetry, and my 

 mind was in a state of quiet but high enjoyment. 

 It wanted but a few minutes of midnight, when 

 suddenly the clear and distinct voice of the chuck- 

 will's widow rose up from a pomegranate tree in 

 the garden below the window where I was sitting, 

 and only a few yards from me. It was exactly as 

 if a human being had spoken the words, "chuck — 

 will's widow." I had not been thinking of this 

 bird, but of course I recognised it in a moment, 

 and a gush of delight and surprise went through 

 me. I scarcely dared to breathe, lest any sound 

 should alarm and drive it away, and my ears 

 were strained to catch every intonation uttered. 

 It continued to repeat its singular call at intervals 

 of a few seconds for about half an hour, when 

 another from a little distance answered, and the 

 two pursued their occupation together, sometimes 

 calling alternately, sometimes both at the same 

 instant. By and by, a third further off in the 

 forest joined them, and the first flew away. The 

 spell was broken, and I went to bed ; but even in 

 sleep the magic sounds seemed to be ringing in my 



A very vivid emotion of delight was produced in 

 my mind on my visit to Jamaica, by the sight of 

 Heliconia Charitoma. The appearance of this fine 

 butterfly is so totally different from that of any of 



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