CHAPTER IX. 



IDLE DAYS. 



Befoke the SHOW, wLicli lias given rise to so long 

 a digression, Lad quite ceased falling the blue sky 

 was smiling again, and I set forth on my muddy 

 walk home. Under the brilliant sun the white 

 mantle very soon began to exhibit broad black lines 

 and rents, and in a l^rief space of time the earth 

 had recovei'ed its wonted appearance — the cheerful 

 greeuish-bluisli-grey, which is Nature's livery at 

 all times in this part of Patagonia ; while from the 

 dripping thorn bushes the birds resumed their 

 singing. 



If the birds of this region do not excel those of 



o 



other lands in sweetness, compass, and variety (and 

 I am not sure that they do not) for constancy in 

 singing they indubitably carry the palm. In spring 

 and early summer their notes are incessant ; and 

 the choir is then led by that incomparable melodist, 

 the white-banded mocking-bird, a summer visitor. 

 Even in the coldest months of winter, June and 

 July, when the sun shines, the hoarse crooning of 

 the spotted Columba, resembling that of the wood- 

 pigeon of Europe, and the softer, more sigh-like 

 lamentations of the Zenaida maculata, so replete 



