CHAPTER III. 



VALLEY OP THE CLACK IMVEK. 



Still a lingerer in the hospitable shade of the 

 Mission House, my chief pleasure during the early 

 days of February was in observing the autumnal 

 muster of the purple swallows — Progne furcata — a 

 species which was abundant at this point, breeding 

 in the cliffs overhanging the river; also, like so 

 many other swallows in all places, under the eaves 

 of houses. It is a large, beautiful bird, its whole 

 upper plumage of a rich, glossy, deep purple hue, 

 its iinder surface black. Xo such large swallows 

 as this, with other members of its genus, are known 

 in the Old World; and a visitor from Europe would 

 probably, on first seeing one of these birds, mistake 

 it for a swift; biit it has not got the narrow, 

 scythe-shaped wings of the swift, nor does it rush 

 through the air in the swift's mad way; on the 

 contrary, its flight is much calmer, with fewer quick 

 doublings than that of other swallows. It also 

 differs from most members of its family in possess- 

 ing a set song of several modulated notes, which 

 are occasionally warbled in a leisurely manner as 

 the bird soars high in the air : as a melodist it 

 should rank high among the hirundines. 



