HUNTING IN THE TROPICS. 



139 



he made mto bread for the very nicest tables in 

 our land. I never knew tlie natives to grind it or 

 pound it. They are accustomed to roast it on the ear 

 after the kernels have become quite hard and yellow. 

 Our house in this tropical garden was merely a 

 bamboo hut, with a broad veranda, whicli afforded us 

 an ample shelter from the pouring rains and scorch- 

 ing sunshine, I had been careful to take along my 

 fowling-piece, and at once I commenced a rambling 

 hunt through the adjoining forest. Large flocks of 

 small bii'ds, much like our blackbird, were hoveling 

 about, but they so invariably chose to alight only on 

 the tops of the tallest trees, that I was a long time 

 seeming half a dozen specimens, for at eveiy shot 

 they would select another distant tree-top, and give 

 me a long walk over tangled roots and fallen trees 

 in the dense, almost gloomy, jungle. As evening 

 came on, small green pairots uttered their shrill, 

 deafening screams, as they darted to and fro through 

 the thick foliage. A few of these also enteied my 

 game-bag. 



In these tropical land^, when the sun sets, it is 

 high time for the hunter to forsake his fascinating 

 eport and huriy home. There is no long, fading 

 twilight, but darkness presses closely on the foot- 

 steps of retreating day, and at once it is night. On 

 my return, ray Mend remai'ked in the coolest manner 

 that I had secured us both a good supper ; and be- 

 fore I had recovered from my shock at such a sug- 

 gestion, the cook had torn out a large handful of 

 rich feathers trom the skins, and all ^\■ere spoiled for 

 my collection ; however, I consoled myself with the 



