ing the insects, moving on at the same time, and in a very few
minutes they had finished examining the trees near me and were gone; but
not satisfied with what I had witnessed, I jumped up and rushed after
the flock to keep it in sight. All my caution and all recollection of
what the Indians had said was now forgot, so great was my interest in
this bird-army; but as they moved on without pause, they quickly left me
behind, and presently my career was stopped by an impenetrable tangle of
bushes, vines, and roots of large trees extending like huge cables
along the ground. In the midst of this leafy labyrinth I sat down on a
projecting root to cool my blood before attempting to make my way back
to my former position. After that tempest of motion and confused noises
the silence of the forest seemed very profound; but before I had
been resting many moments it was broken by a low strain of exquisite
bird-melody, wonderfully pure and expressive, unlike any musical sound I
had ever heard before. It seemed to issue from a thick cluster of broad
leaves of a creeper only a few yards from where I sat. With my eyes
fixed on this green hiding-place I waited with suspended breath for its
repetition, wondering whether any civilized being had ever listened to
such a strain before. Surely not, I thought, else the fame of so divine
a melody would long ago have been noised abroad. I thought of the
rialejo, the celebrated organbird or flute-bird, and of the various ways
in which hearers are affected by it. To some its warbling is like the
sound of a beautiful mysterious instrument, while to others it seems
like the singing of a blithe-hearted child with a highly melodious
voice. I had often heard and listened with delight to the singing of the
rialejo in the Guayana forests, but this song, or musical phrase, was
utterly unlike it in character. It was pure, more expressive, softer--so
low that at a distance of forty yards I could hardly have heard it.
But its greatest charm was its resemblance to the human voice--a voice
purified and brightened to something almost angelic. Imagine, then, my
impatience as I sat there straining my sense, my deep disappointment
when it was not repeated! I rose at length very reluctantly and slowly
began making my way back; but when I had progressed about thirty yards,
again the sweet voice sounded just behind me, and turning quickly, I
stood still and waited. The same voice, but not the same song--not
the same ph