a cocuyo up
in the out-door air for a few moments, large numbers are at once
attracted to the spot. In size they are about an inch long, and a
little over an eighth of an inch in breadth.

There is an insidious and much dreaded insect with which the planters
have to contend on the sugar and coffee plantations, but which is not
met with in the cities; namely, the red ant, a much more formidable
foe than any one not acquainted with its ravages would believe. These
little creatures possess a power altogether out of proportion to their
insignificant size, eating into the heart of the hardest wood, neither
cedar, iron-wood, nor even lignum-vitae being proof against them. They
are not seen at the surface, as they never touch the outer shell of
the wood whose heart they are consuming. A beam or rafter which has
been attacked by them looks as good as when new, to the casual
observer, until it is sounded and found to be hollow, a mere shell in
fact. Even in passing from one piece of timber to another, the red
ant does so by covered ways, and is thus least seen when most busy.
The timbers of an entire roof have been found hollowed out and
deprived entirely of their supporting strength without the presence of
the insect enemy being even suspected until chance betrayed the
useless character of the supports. For some unknown reason, upright
timbers are rarely attacked by them, but those in a reclining or
horizontal position are their choice. These destructive red ants are
nearly always to be found in tropical countries, as in India, Batavia,
and Sumatra, where they build mounds in the jungle half the size of
the natives' cabins. They may be seen marching like an invading army
in columns containing myriads across the fields of southern India.

The interior landscape, more particularly of the middle district of
the island, is here and there ornamented by fine specimens of the
ceiba, or silk-cotton tree, which is often seen a hundred feet in
height, with stout and widespread branches, giving the idea of great
firmness and stability. It sends up a massive sinewy trunk for some
fifty feet, when it divides into branches covered with a dense canopy
of leaves, expanded like an umbrella, and forming a perfect shade
against the power of the torrid sun. The ceiba is slow of growth, but
attains to great age, specimens thriving when Columbus first landed
here being, as we were assured, still extant. Next to the royal palm,
it is the most rema