204 
WANDERINGS IN 
THIRD 
JOURNEY. 
The Cam- 
panero. 
tions on seeing the once grand and towering mora, 
now dead and ragged in its topmost branches, while 
its aged trunk, undermined by the rushing torrent, 
hung as though in sorrow over the river, which, ere 
long, would receive it, and sweep it away for ever. 
During the day, the trade-wind blew a gentle and 
refreshing breeze, which died away as the night set 
in, and then the river was as smooth as glass. 
The moon was within three days of being full, so 
that we did not regret the loss of the sun, which set 
in all its splendour. Scarce had he sunk behind 
the western hills, when the goatsuckers sent forth 
their soft and plaintive cries ; some often repeating, 
“ Who are you—who, who, who are you ? ” and 
others, u Willy, Willy, Willy come go.” 
The Indian and Daddy Quashi often shook their 
head at this, and said they were bringing talk from 
Yabahou, w r ho is the evil spirit of the Essequibo. 
It was delightful to sit on the branch of a fallen tree, 
near the water’s edge, and listen to these harmless 
birds as they repeated their evening song; and watch 
the owls and vampires as they every now and then 
passed up and down the river. 
The next day, about noon, as we were proceeding 
onwards, we heard the campanero tolling in the 
depth of the forest. Though I should not then have 
stopped to dissect even a rare bird, having a greater 
object in view, still I could not resist the opportunity 
offered of acquiring the campanero. The place 
where he was tolling was low and swampy, and my 
legs not having quite recovered from the effects of 
