The Western World Picturesque Sketches of Nature and Natural History in North and South America — Story, Setting & Ideas

From Geological Assertion to Hummingbird Precision

The opening chapter declares that Labrador may have been the first dry land, citing geologists. But within pages, Kingston is describing the spangled coquette's crest, which it can raise or depress at will, and the train-bearer's six-inch tail. This jump from continental origins to avian anatomy is characteristic. The narrative voice does not sustain a single register: it can be declarative about earth history, then become almost painterly about a bird's 'deep ruby crimson gorget.' The effect is a constant recalibration of scale. Readers accustomed to a steady scientific tone may find the shifts abrupt, but they mirror Kingston's stated aim to present a series of picturesque sketches rather than a systematic treatise. The hummingbird passages, in particular, show a writer who slows down to observe closely, quoting naturalists like Gould and Orton, while the geological sections move at a faster, more summary pace.

The Voice of the Naturalist-Explorer

Kingston's prose often adopts the persona of a traveller or sportsman, not a dry cataloguer. He describes how creatures are 'found, hunted, or trapped,' and the excerpts include verbs of action: the snow-cap hummingbird 'dive downwards,' the sappho comet visits gardens 'with perfect fearlessness.' This active voice gives the natural history a narrative quality. Yet Kingston also inserts himself as a compiler: 'we will stop now and then to pick up scraps of information.' The result is a hybrid voice—part field observer, part armchair naturalist. When he writes of the hill star of Chimborazo never visiting Pichincha, he adds a note of wonder: 'it is curious.' Such interjections keep the tone conversational. The excerpts do not reveal whether Kingston ever visited the Americas; the voice suggests a writer synthesizing secondhand accounts, but doing so with enthusiasm and a clear eye for the striking detail.

Pacing Through Description: The Hummingbird Set Pieces

The longest continuous excerpt focuses on hummingbirds, and here the pace slows markedly. Kingston devotes separate paragraphs to the snow-cap, spangled coquette, train-bearer, hill star, and sappho comet, each with specific colour notes: 'light buff,' 'bronzed green,' 'dazzling white.' He reproduces Gould's description of the snow-cap's bathing—'darting up and down it repeated in rapid succession'—and notes the female's lack of crest or gorget. This granularity contrasts with the earlier, broader strokes of physical geography. The effect is a rhythmic alternation: fast overviews of continents, then slow, almost static portraits of individual species. The hummingbird section functions as a set piece where Kingston's descriptive method is most visible. He does not simply list traits; he embeds them in mini-narratives (the bird's dive, the crest's movement). Readers interested in how Victorian natural history balanced science and entertainment will find these passages instructive.

Kingston's work rewards readers who accept its variable pace and hybrid voice. The excerpts suggest that the most engaging passages are those where he lingers—on a bird's crest, a bathing ritual, a geographical oddity. Treat the broader geological and geographical sections as framing devices; the heart of the book lies in the detailed sketches of individual creatures. Kingston's tone is consistently genial, his prose clear if not elegant. Approach the text as a series of discrete vignettes rather than a continuous argument, and the shifts in pace will feel less like inconsistency and more like the natural rhythm of a curious mind at work.

I remember Kingston’s hummingbirds, so vividly painted that they seemed to linger in the air, and then the quiet shadow that fell across the page. His world was crowded with life, yet I found myself thinking of William Hornaday’s sad, patient ledger of what was already slipping away. That old catalog now feels less like a warning and more like a shared, deep breath between two friends who knew the same woods. Our Vanishing Wild Life: Its Extermination and Preservation — Reading Companion rests beside it on my shelf, holding that same hush.