20 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 
busily feeding upon the berries of a tall shrub, to the 
pendant branches of which it was clinging, now and 
then dashing at a fugitive bunch, apparently as ab- 
sorbed in this occupation as in his melodious lay of a 
few minutes before. Soon he ceased feeding, and 
commenced preening himself upon a naked limb; 
then, after smoothing himself out, as it were, and 
drawing in and stretching out his neck, he suddenly 
dashed at a single berry, swallowed it to clear his 
throat, and recommenced to trill. He had uttered 
but a few notes when he silently flew to a dead branch ; 
afew more and he winged his way to a swinging 
“liane,” where he hung suspended above a little ravine, 
in which is sunk a tiny stream, whose tinkling waters 
made music, though not so sweet and liquid as his. 
Then he disappeared in the dark recesses of the forest, 
where it would be useless to follow him, but whence 
came at intervals the ventriloquial music that seemed 
to float over my head and around me, though the bird 
was afar. 
This bird is called by my mountaineer friends, who 
have a name, and an applicable one, for everything 
in the forest, the “Szfleur Montagne,” or “ Mountain 
Whistler.” I afterwards had one in captivity for 
several weeks, and notes on his behavior, song, and 
food would fill a column that my readers might think 
could be put to better use, but which would be val- 
uable to the ornithologist as the first records of an 
intimate acquaintance with this species. 
But let us go on. I will leave the deep valley be- 
hind me, with the roar of the waterfall gradually fall- 
ing, first to a monotonous hum, then ceasing entirely, 
‘and climb the bed of another water-course, now dry, 
