298 
BLUEFIELDS. 
which the bass is supplied by the roll of the surf 
falling on the sea-beach at measured intervals, — a low 
hollow roar, protracted until it dies away along the 
sinuous shore, the memorial of a fierce hut transitory 
sea-breeze. But there are sweeter sounds than 
these : the Mocking Bird takes his seat on the highest 
twig of the orange tree at my feet, and pours forth 
his rich and solemn gushes of melody, with such an 
earnestness as if his soul were in his song. A rival 
from a neighbouring tree commences a similar strain, 
and now the two birds exert all their powers, each 
striving his utmost to outsing the other, until the 
silence of the lonely night rings with bursts, and 
swells, and tender cadences of melodious song. Here 
and there, over the pasture, the intermittent green 
spark of the Firefly flits along, and at the edges of 
the bounding woods scores of twinkling lights are 
seen, appearing and disappearing in the most puzzling 
manner. Three or four Bats are silently winging 
along through the air, now passing over the face of 
the vertical moon like tiny black specks, now dart- 
ing through the narrow arch beneath the steps, and 
now flitting so close over head that one is tempted 
to essay their capture with an insect-net. The light 
of the moon, however, though clearly revealing their 
course, is not powerful or precise enough for this, 
and the little nimble Leatherwings pursue their giddy 
play in security. 
