18 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 
other, and of several others also, which when they 
meet go through the most laughable series of bows, 
quivering of wings and caudatory vibrations. Well 
has this bird earned the title — universal, I believe, 
throughout the West Indies — of Zrembleur. 
And now, the trembleurs having been attended to, 
I push on till I reach the brink of a precipice. A 
little stream that falls musically over the rocks and 
stones suddenly loses itself over the brow of this wall 
of green, on the summit of which I stand. Cautiously 
clinging to the trunk of a tree, I look down into the . 
valley. The sight nearly makes me dizzy, for there, 
five hundred feet beneath me, I see tall trees as little 
shrubs, bananas and plantains as small plants, and 
huge boulders as pebbles. The roots I am standing 
on overhang the precipice, and the tree shoots out far 
over the dizzy height. Above the sighing of the wind 
in the tree-tops, and the music of the birds, and creak- 
ing of branches, is a roaring of water falling from im- 
mense height — a roar that drowns every other noise, 
and deafens the ear to every other sensation. Wend- 
ing my way along the brink, clinging to roots and 
trees, I soon reach a point where I can see, half-way 
down the perpendicular cliff, a sheet of foam; a hun- 
dred yards farther another, falling from a_ lesser 
height, yet neither less than one hundred and fifty 
feet — the higher over two hundred. 
They are lost in a sea of green, reappearing far- 
ther on as a united stream, which rushes and roars over 
rocks, through gorges and at the base of mountains, 
through gardens of figs and plantains, beneath tower- 
ing, feathery palms, through green fields of cane, at 
last to reach the sea. 
