and generals had met, was now deserted and tenanted by the Vampire. Here, then, was a fine opportunity to watch the movements of this strange creature. He was often seen to help himself from the Banana-tree, and would also bring into the loft a green round fruit from the forest, something like a wild guava, and about the size of a nutmeg. There was something, also, in the blossom of the suwarritree, which was grateful to him, for, on coming up Waratilli creek, in a clear moonlight night, Waterton saw some Vampires fluttering round the top of the sawarri-tree, and every now and then the blossoms, which they had broken off, fell into the water. They certainly did not fall naturally, for, on examining several, they appeared fresh and blooming. It was, therefore, evident that the Vampires pulled them from the tree, either to get at the fruit, or to catch the insects which often nestle in flowers. These strange quadrupeds frequent deserted houses, as well as hollow trees, and ants' nests. Sometimes a cluster of them may be seen hanging with their heads downward from the branch of a tree. In matted woods, where birds forget to sing, It was highly amusing to watch their movements, as they flitted to and fro along the banks of the Essequibo; to sit, as Waterton beautifully describes, on the branch of a fallen tree, near the water's edge, to listen to the soft and plaintive cries of the goatsuckers, repeating their evening songs, or to observe the owls and vampires, as they every now and then passed up the river. SCENE ON THE ESSEQUIBO. +41 Two peculiarities are discoverable in these nocturnal creatures, which may well detain us a few minutes to observe. Curious is it to remark by what a variety of means the same effect is frequently obtained. The eyes of such carnivorous animals as hunt their prey by night, are admirably adapted for seeing in the dark; they possess a faculty not given to those of other species; they can close the pupil entirely. This faculty depends upon the superior sensibility of the retina, upon its being easily affected, because it is needful for them to descry objects with the smallest degree of light. But no such faculty is obvious in the bat, they owe apparently, the facility with which they pass unhurt, even in the darkest nights, through small apertures, and among thick boughs, to the enlargement of another sense. Spallanzani caught several bats, and having covered their eyes, turned them into a dark room, which opened into a narrow way, from which even the faintest ray of light had been carefully excluded. They flew without striking against the walls, and would often suspend their flight when they came to a place where they could conveniently perch in the passage, which turned at right angles, they would, though at a considerable distance from the walls, change the direction of their flight with the greatest nicety, when they drew near the angles. They also carefully avoided striking against the branches of trees, which Spallanzani had suspended from the roof, and even flew between strong threads, which hung perpendicularly in like manner; though frequently obliged to contract their wings in order to pass between them. It was naturally inferred that these creatures owed the facility of flying through intricate places in the dark to the sense of hearing, rather than of sight. Their ears were, therefore, tied up, and then the poor bats could no longer find their way. They became sorrowful, and refused every kind of food, remaining quiet through the day, and if set at liberty for a few minutes, with their eyes uncovered, they merely crawled into some dark corner or crevice. But at sunset, the scene was changed: each one then endeavoured with loud chirpings, to scratch his way through the box; and when taken out, such as had their ears and eyes covered, knew not where to fly, or what to do, while those who were merely blinded flew about, or ran to a convenient place for taking wing. Anatomists relate that the faculty thus given of flying safely in the dark, even when blindfolded, is occasioned by the incredible number of nerves that expand on the upper jaws, the muzzle, and the organs of hearing. The hook, too, which is observed at the angle of the wing in this interesting quadruped, how curious it is! Formed exactly like a claw, it enables the creature safely to attach herself to crevices or joinings in stones or timber. Without this aid, she could not rise from off the ground, for her legs and feet are not adapted to the purpose, but with it she readily runs up a wall, or tree, and then takes flight. This animal affords, therefore, a striking instance of design in its formation, and of adaptation to surrounding objects and circumstances; the tree or the rock to which she clings, and the darkness through which she wings her dusky flight. Here, as in all the THE VICTORIA REGINA. 43 works of the Creator, we discover the most perfect order, and the most wonderful combination of means to produce a desired end. If, when darkness has passed, and the bat has retired to her shelter for the day, we observe the flights and motions of the creatures which then come forth from the coverts where they have slept securely through the night, the beauty of the vegetable world, and the place to which every shrub and flower is assigned; what symmetry and beauty is discoverable, what a wonderful adaptation of plants, and animals, and birds, to the sites which they are designed to occupy! Take, for instance, the recently discovered Victoria Regina, that noble flower which M. Schomberg saw growing on the river Berbice, and which appears in the distance like a magnificent salver, ornamented with a light green rim, and reflecting a vivid crimson glow from the under surface as it floats on the bosom of the river. From out the centre of this arises a splendid flower with a hundred petals, sweetly scented, and, at one period of its growth, of the purest white. As the narrator rowed from one plant to the other, he was continually delighted with observing some new beauty; several which had just expanded were quite white, others rose-coloured, others pink. The rim especially attracted his notice; it was at least five inches high, and was obviously designed to prevent the water from overflowing the surface of the leaf, when agitated by a brisk wind. Nor was it without a considerable degree of beauty, the inside being of a light green, the outer of a brilliant crimson. Uniting also an equal degree of elegance and utility, up rose 44 CONSTRUCTION OF THE VEGETABLE TRIBES. the central stem and its ponderous calyx, each of whose ample leaves, at least seven inches in length and three in breadth, were thick and white within, and reddish brown and prickly on the outside. These hold up and closely embrace the flower, and keep it safe from the splashing of the water, before it is sufficiently expanded to throw off superfluous moisture, and to present its splendid disk to the action of the sunbeams. We may conjecture that this plant, like the Vallisneria on the Rhone, is enabled to maintain its station on the surface of the river by means of an elastic spiral stalk, which contracts or extends as the river falls or rises. But we need not seek in distant regions for instances of wisdom and beneficence among the vegetable tribes; they occur in every meadow and in every hedgerow. Observe, for instance, the white archangel, which grows among long grass, and the papilionaceous tribes on places open to the wind. The petals of the one are arched to protect the open seeds, the blossoms of the other are so constructed as to turn their backs against the wind, in the same manner as a weather-cock. Happy are those, said the poet Gray, who can raise a rose-bush, or cultivate an honeysuckle, who can watch with pleasure a brood of chickens, or young ducklings as they sail upon the water; in other words, happy are they who can derive enjoyment from the natural objects that surround them. This is a simple truth, yet an unchanging one, and I recommend it to the attention of my readers. I pretend not to say that a taste for natural history will make them happy, religion alone can do so; but it will render the unhappy |