ON A SUGAR ESTATE. 231 
resided on this estate, as manager, for twenty years. 
In all that time he had been sick but once, though 
exposed to the morning mists and mid-day sun, and, 
in the season of crops, sometimes engaged in the mill- 
house whole nights at a time, without rest. Sur- 
rounded by a large family of healthy children, who 
enjoyed without stint the blessings of the delightful 
climate, my friend reposed in this valley with his flocks 
and herds in almost patriarchal simplicity. He was a 
man of educated tastes, and had gathered about him 
a large and well-selected library, which proved a 
blessing in the heat of the day, when it was not pos- 
sible to stir out of doors. 
At that season, January, the sun sinks behind the 
low ridge that barely hides the sea before six o’clock. 
Hardly has it given its last wink, and left the valley 
in cool shade, when the bats come out in large num- 
bers, taking the place of the swifts of the day-time, 
who, morning and evening, and after every shower, 
are skimming the cane-fields and circling swiftly 
about the trees and buildings. Thus the aerial in- 
sect world is left without rest from incessant pursuit; 
scarcely has one class of enemies departed than an- 
other comes forward, waging a nocturnal and diurnal 
warfare that must be very destructive, when carried 
on with so much vigor and by so many foes. 
One evening my attention was called to some bats, 
or birds, which appeared only when every trace of 
twilight had faded, and circled rapidly around an 
almond tree, either after insects or nuts. After one 
or two turns, perhaps poising themselves on a twig 
a few seconds, they would dart off, returning in ten 
minutes or so to make their circuits about the tree. 
