In all this time there was but little change in the weather. A short period without rain was the exception. Otherwise, the mornings and evenings were invariably clear, with a refreshing rain of about two hours' duration in the middle of the day. In the afternoon the sun was, of course, away from my cavern, shining upon the opposite side of the mountain of solid rock, which rendered my abode delightfully cool in the greatest heat of the day. Toward the end of the short dry period, magnificent thunder-showers passed over my domain. Nothing could be more glorious than these electrical displays of an equatorial sky, as I sat snug and safe within the rocky shelter. The heaviest shower could not wet me, the water without ran with a swift descent, from the cave, and over the precipice into the lake below. It was not likely that the lightning would take the trouble to creep in under the rock and there find me out. And as for the thunder, I was not in the least afraid of it, but gloried in its loud peals and distant reverberations among the encompassing mountains. It was during the violence of one of these tempests that a parrot flew into my comfortable quarters. "Hallo! my fine fellow!" said I. "Where do you come from, and what do you want here?" It flew about the room looking for a place to perch, trying to find a footing against the wall, slipping down, and flying up again. I left it free to find its own roosting-place, or fly out of the cavern, as it liked. I had seen a few parrots of the same kind, outside in my garden, had heard them chattering and shrieking amidst the foliage, and had always been very much amused with their odd ways, and pleased with the brilliance and the glitter of their splendid plumage. But I never tried or cared to capture the gorgeous, noisy birds, or any other of the creatures that were always to be seen around me. Indeed, from the very first, the living things in this lovely valley appeared to be uncommonly tame; and in time no bird or other animal showed the least fear on my approach, regarding me no more than any other creature that never did them harm. Of course, this came of my never molesting them. But I never thought of getting on familiar terms with any of them, although scarcely a day passed that some of these animals did not come and eat of the fruit by the side of that which I was plucking. I never laid hands on them, but always let them go about their own business. They soon became accustomed to my umbrella even, for I early made one of these necessities of a torrid climate; and although at first when I had occasion to walk in the sun my appearance shaded by the portable roof caused unusual chattering and commotion, I speedily took on a familiar look to them. In the same way I became an object of curiosity when I plucked a leaf and made of it a cup to drink from. But at length all signs of strangeness vanished, and there even came to be a kind of friendship between us.