WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA. 99 



like the daybreak town-clock ; and the Wren and the 

 Thrush will join with thee in thy matin hymn to thy 

 Creator, to thank Him for thy night's rest. 



At noon thy Genius will lead thee to the Troely, one 

 leaf of which will defend thee from both sun and rain. 

 And if, in the cool of the evening, thou hast been tempted 

 to stray too far from thy place of abode, and art deprived 

 of light to write down the information thou hast collected, 

 the Firefly, which thou wilt see in almost every bush 

 around thee, will be thy candle. Hold it over thy pocket- 

 book, in any position which thou knowest will not hurt it, 

 and it will afford thee ample light. And when thou hast 

 done with it, put it kindly back again on the next branch 

 to thee. It will want no other reward for its services. 



When in thy hammock, should the thought of thy little 

 crosses and disappointments, in thy ups and downs through 

 life, break in upon thee, and throw thee into a pensive 

 mood, the Owl will bear thee company. She will tell thee 

 that hard has been her fate too ; and at intervals, " Whip- 

 poor- Will," and " Willy come go," will take up the tale of 

 sorrow. Ovid has told thee how the owl lonce boasted the 

 human form, and lost it for a very small offence ; and were 

 the poet alive now, he would inform thee, that " Whip- 

 poor- Will," and " Willy come go," are the shades of those 

 poor African and Indian slaves, who died worn out and 

 brokenhearted. They wail and cry, " Whip-poor- Will," 

 and " Willy come go," aU night long ; and often, when the 

 moon shines, you see them sitting on the green turf, near 

 the houses of those whose ancestors tore them from the 

 bosom of their helpless families, which all probably per- 

 ished through grief and want, after their support was 

 gone. 



About an hour above the rock of Saba, stands the habi-' 

 tation of an Indian, called Simon, on the top of a hill. 



II 2 



