Summary

Anonymous The Emigrant's Lost Son; or, Life Alone in the Forest

The quietness is that of a pause in the running stream of time; the air is motionless, the leaves hang pendant, as waiting in the presence of a deity for permission to resume the business of growth. The silence that reigns at the hour of noon is peculiarly of a religious character; there is nothing to which it can be compared but itself. From the nobles of the forest to the minutest insect, all appear to be at their devotions—the propensity to kill, for the time being, is forgotten or suspended,—
"The passions to divine repose alone
Persuaded yield; and love and joy are waking."
Source: Gutenberg

Anonymous The Emigrant's Lost Son; or, Life Alone in the Forest

Finally, the last troop of howling monkeys are heard, as if performing the duty of drovers to those that have preceded them; the sloth cries as if in much distress with pain; the croaking of frogs, and monotonous chirps of large grasshoppers, bring on the close of day.
The tops of the forest now appear to be on fire, in the midst of which, the toucan, on a blasted mora tree, is uttering his evening cry, as darker shades are gradually cast into the forest, and the sun's disc sinks into the horizon.
Source: Gutenberg

Anonymous The Emigrant's Lost Son; or, Life Alone in the Forest

Parrots, some blue, red, or green, others, parti-coloured, assemble in large groups on the tops of the forest-trees; and then, flying off to the plantations, fill the air with their screams. The toucan, perched on an extreme branch, rattles his large, hollow bill; and in loud, plaintive notes, calls for rain. The fly-catcher sits aloof, intent on watching insects as they dart from branch to branch, seizing them as they heedlessly buzz by him in their giddy and unsteady career.
Source: Gutenberg

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