The jungle he herein describes is that of Guiana; and in the introductory chapters he gives cameos of what one sees sailing southward through the lovely islands where the fronds of the palms thrash endlessly as the warm trade blows. He knows well and intimately Malaysia and the East Indian islands, and Ceylon and Farther India and mid-China and the stupendous mountain masses of the Himalayas. All of these he will some time put before us, in volumes not one of which can be spared from the library of any man who loves life and literature. This is the first of these volumes. In it are records of extraordinary scientific interest, in language which has all the charm of an essay of Robert Louis Stevenson. He tells of bird and beast and plant and insect; of the hoatzin, a bird out of place in the modern world, a bird which comes down unchanged from a time when birds merely fluttered instead of flying--and had only recently learned to flutter instead of gliding. Whatever he touches he turns into the gold of truth rightly interpreted and vividly set forth--as witness his extraordinary account of the sleeping parlor of certain gorgeous tropic butterflies. If I had space I would like to give an abstract of the whole book. As it is I merely advise all who love good books, very good books, at once to get this book of Mr. Beebe. THEODORE ROOSEVELT. Reprinted from the _New York Times_. REVIEW OF BOOKS. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I Jungle Peace 3 II Sea-wrack 5 III Islands 33 IV The Pomeroon Trail 66 V A Hunt for Hoatzins 92 VI Hoatzins at Home 123 VII A Wilderness Laboratory 140 VIII The Convict Trail 177 IX With Army Ants "Somewhere" in the Jungle 211 X A Yard of Jungle 239 XI Jungle Night 263 Index 295 JUNGLE PEACE I JUNGLE PEACE After creeping through slime-filled holes beneath the shrieking of swift metal, after splashing one's plane through companionable clouds three miles above the little jagged, hero-filled ditches, and dodging other sudden-born clouds of nauseous fumes and blasting heart of steel; after these, one craves thoughts of comfortable hens, sweet apple orchards, or ineffable themes of opera. And when nerves have cried for a time 'enough' and an unsteady hand threatens to turn a joy stick into a sign post to Charon, the mind seeks amelioration--some symbol of worthy content and peace--and for my part, I turn with all desire to the jungles of the tropics.