delighted in passing up the River Demerara. Every now and then the maam or
tinamou sends forth one long and plaintive whistle from the depth of the
forest, and then stops; whilst the yelping of the toucan and the shrill
voice of the bird called pi-pi-yo is heard during the interval. The
campanero never fails to attract the attention of the passenger; at a
distance of nearly three miles you may hear this snow-white bird tolling
every four or five minutes, like the distant convent-bell. From six to nine
in the morning the forests resound with the mingled cries and strains of
the feathered race; after this they gradually die away. From eleven to
three all nature is hushed as in a midnight silence, and scarce a note is
heard, saving that of the campanero and the pi-pi-yo; it is then that,
oppressed by the solar heat, the birds retire to the thickest shade and
wait for the refreshing cool of evening.

At sundown the vampires, bats and goat-suckers dart from their lonely
retreat and skim along the trees on the river's bank. The different kinds
of frogs almost stun the ear with their hoarse and hollow-sounding
croaking, while the owls and goat-suckers lament and mourn all night long.

About two hours before daybreak you will hear the red monkey moaning as
though in deep distress; the houtou, a solitary bird, and only found in the
thickest recesses of the forest, distinctly articulates "houtou, houtou,"
in a low and plaintive tone an hour before sunrise; the maam whistles about
the same hour; the hannaquoi, pataca and maroudi announce his near approach
to the eastern horizon, and the parrots and paroquets confirm his arrival
there.

The crickets chirp from sunset to sunrise, and often during the day when
the weather is cloudy. The bete-rouge is exceedingly numerous in these
extensive wilds, and not only man, but beasts and birds, are tormented by