MARTIN RATTLER. 159

although it was by no means new to them; but they
could not get used to it And no wonder! Ten
thousand paroquets shrieking passionately, like a
hundred knife-grinders at work, is no joke ; especially
when their melodies are mingled with the discordant
eries of herons, and bitterns, and cranes, and the
ceaseless buzz and hum of insects, like the bagpipe’s
drone, and the dismal croaking of boat-bills and frogs
—one kind of which latter, by the way, doesn’t croak
at all, but whéstles, ay, better than many a bird!
The universal hubbub is tremendous. I tell you,
reader, that you don’t understand it, and you can’t
understand it; and if, after I had used the utmost
excess of exaggerated language to convey a correct
impression of the reality, you were to imagine that
you really did understand it, you would be very
lamentably mistaken—that’s all !

Nevertheless, you must not run away with the
idea that the whole empire of Brazil is like this.
There are dark thick solitudes in these vast forests
which are solemn and silent enough at times, and
there are wide grassy campos and great sandy plains
where such sounds are absent. Yet there are also
thousands of such spots as I have just described,
where all nature, in earth, air, and water, is instinct

with noisy animal life.