Mr Bates had one day wounded one; and on attempting to seize it, it set up a loud scream. In an instant, as if by magic, the wood seemed alive with its companions, who descended towards him, hopping from bough to bough, some of them swinging on the loops of the lianas and sipos, croaking and fluttering their wings like so many furies. Had he had a long stick in his hand, he could have knocked over several of them. The screaming of their companion which he had killed having ceased, they remounted the trees; and before he could reload his gun, which he had left at a little distance, they had all disappeared. He possessed a tame toucan of one of the large species, which was allowed to go free about the house. Having chastised it for mounting his work-table, the first time it made the attempt, it never again repeated it. It slept on the top of a box in a corner of the room, with its long tail laid right over its back, and its beak thrust underneath its wing. It ate of everything--beef, turtle, fish, farina, fruit--and was a constant attendant at meals. It learned the hour to a nicety, and he found it difficult to keep the bird away from the dining-room at these hours. When it had become somewhat impudent and troublesome, he tried to shut it out in the back-yard; but Tocano used to climb the fence, and hop round by a long circuit, making its appearance with the greatest punctuality as the meal was placed on the table. One day it was stolen, and given up for lost; but two days afterwards it stepped through the doorway at the dinner-hour, with its old gait and sly magpie-like expression, having escaped from the house of the person who had stolen it, situated at the further end of the village. THE REALEJO, OR ORGAN-BIRD. [Cyphorhinus Cantans; called also the flute-bird.] While the strange, harsh voice of the goatsucker is hushed, the mycetes has ceased to howl, and no roar of jaguar is heard, a few slow, sweet, and mellow notes reach the ear, following one another like the commencement of an air. The unimpressible natives stop their paddles as they are floating up an igarape to listen to the dulcet strains. The sounds appear to be those of a human voice; some young girl gathering fruit in the neighbouring thicket, it would seem, warbling a few notes to cheer herself in her solitude. Now the tones become more flute-like and plaintive,--now they seem to be those of a flageolet. It is difficult to imagine that they can be produced by a bird. No bird, indeed, can be seen, however closely the surrounding trees and bushes are scanned. Yet that sweet voice seems to come from a thicket close at hand. The listeners are silent, expecting to hear the strain completed, but disappointment follows. An abrupt pause occurs, and then the song breaks down, finishing with a number of clicking, unmusical sounds, like a piping barrel-organ out of wind and out of tune.