56 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



mittent fevers, and regularly sent to Cariaco and other 

 parts of the lower districts where such diseases prevail. 



The travellers followed the banks of the small river 

 which issues from the cavern as far as the mounds of cal- 

 careous incrustations permitted them, and afterward de- 

 scended into its bed. The cave preserved the same direc- 

 tion, breadth, and height as at its entrance, to the dis- 

 tance of 1554 feet. The natives having a belief that 

 the souls of their ancestors inhabit its deep recesses, the 

 Indians who accompanied our travellers could hardly be 

 persuaded to venture into it. Shooting at random in the 

 dark, they obtained two specimens of the Guacharo. Hav- 

 ing proceeded to a certain distance, they came to a mass 

 of stalactite, beyond which the cave became narrower, 

 although it retained its original direction. Here the rivu- 

 let had deposited a blackish mould resembling that ob- 

 served at Muggendorf in Franconia. The seeds which the 

 birds carry to their young spring up wherever they are 

 dropped into it; and M. Humboldt and his friend were 

 astonished to find blanched stalks that had attained a 

 height of two feet. 



As the missionaries were unable to persuade the Indians 

 to advance farther, the party returned. The river, spark- 

 ling amid the foliage of the trees, seemed like a distant 

 picture, to which the mouth of the cave formed a frame. 

 Having sat down at the entrance to enjoy a little needful 

 repose, they partook of a repast which the missionaries 

 had prepared, and in due time returned to the convent. 



\Humboldt. 



NOTES OF A NATURALIST. 



BY JACOB GREEN, M. D. 



PIlOFESSOIl OF CHEMISTRY IN JEFFERSON COLLEGE. 



Our Village — The Blue-bird. 



Every one who rambles through our fields and woods 

 during the spring, summer, or autumn, must be familiar 

 with the plaintive song, the gentle manners, and the peace- 

 ful disposition of our own little Blue-bird, called by mo- 

 dern ornithologists the Sylvia Sialis. Some how or 

 other I have, from early youth, entertained an attachment 

 for this little songster, which all the gayer and more ex- 

 pert musicians of the grove, cannot rival. Though his 

 plumage is simple, and his warblings brief, and perhaps to 

 some ears monotonous, he has always maintained with me 

 the pre-eminence. I always anxiously wait for his arri- 



val, and listen with delight to his first mild and oft repeated 

 chirpings, towards the end of February, knowing that 

 spring's "ethereal mildness" is at hand. During the sum- 

 mer he animates the woods and hedges with his most 

 cheerful song, though it is frequently lost in the general cho- 

 rus; but, in the autumn, the meadow and the grove would 

 be unharmonious but for his plaintive notes. Often in the 

 bright sunny mornings of this variable season of our year, 

 when all his companions in the feathered choir have depart- 

 ed to milder climates, he may be noticed perched on a fence 

 rail, or on the branches of the leafless hedge, — then spring- 

 ing into the air at your approach, he pipes his final autum- 

 nal farewell. Nothing can be more graphic than Wilson's 

 account of this interesting bird. He observes that "in 

 his motions and general character, he has great resem- 

 blance to the Robin Red-breast of Britain; like him he is 

 known to almost every child, and shows as much confi- 

 dence in man by associating with him in summer, as the 

 other by his familiarity in winter." I have heard and 

 have been pleased with the notes of the English Robin in 

 his native haunts, and perhaps many would prefer them to 

 those of our Blue-bird; but if what is told of his insidious 

 and pilfering disposition be true, I cannot consent to make 

 him a companion of my little favourite. The author of 

 " The Journal of a Naturalist," associates the Robin, 

 (Motacilla rubecola,) with the Bull-finch and other plun- 

 derers of the English garden, in company, where, he re- 

 marks, it would not generally be sought; " but. sad truths 

 must be told of it. It might be called pugnacious, jea- 

 lous, selfish, quarrelsome, did I not respect ancient feelings 

 and long-established sentiments. A favourite by commisse- 

 ration, it seeks an asylum with us; by supplication and 

 importunity it becomes a partaker of our bounty in a sea- 

 son of severity and want, — and its seeming humbleness 

 and necessities obtain our pity; but it slights and forgets 

 our kindness the moment it can provide for itself, and is 

 away to its woods and its shades." Now, our bird is pro- 

 verbially peaceful in his manners, useful in his habits, 

 confident and familiar in his disposition, and when with 

 open quivering wings, he pours forth his sweetest melody, 

 I think, is unrivalled in his song. The Robin Red-breast of 

 England has furnished a theme for some of her most gifted 

 poets, and for many of her nursery songs. I shall never 

 lose the impressions made upon my youthful mind when 

 hearing the words and the music of the little ballad called 

 "The Wood Robin." But no pastoral muse has yet 

 arisen in this western woody world to do justice to the 

 name of the Blue-bird, and to endear him still more, as 

 Wilson continues to remark, by the tenderness of verse. 

 A few lines are then offered as a tribute to our little songs- 

 ter, by the gifted biographer of American birds; and, as a 



