A QUAEEELSOME PARTY. 331 



know no better word) of hummingbirds sur- 

 rounding the entire clump of Eibes. 



1 From flower to flower, where wild bees flew and sung, 

 As countless, small, and musical as they 

 Showers of bright hummingbirds came down, and plied 

 The same ambrosial task with slender bill, 

 Extracting honey hidden in those bells 

 Whose richest blossoms grew pale beneath their blaze, 

 Of twinkling winglets hov'ring o'er their petals, 

 Brilliant as rain-drops when the western sun 

 Sees his own miniature beams in each.' 



Seating myself on a log, I watched this busy 

 assemblage for some time. They were all male 

 birds, and two species were plainly discernible. 

 Chasing each other in sheer sport, with a rapidity 

 of flight and intricacy of evolution impossible for 

 the eye to follow through the bushes, and over 

 the water, everywhere they darted about like 

 meteors. Often meeting in mid-air, a furious 

 battle would ensue ; their tiny crests and throat- 

 plumes erect and blazing, they were altogether 

 pictures of the most violent passions. Then one 

 would perch himself on a dead spray, and 

 leisurely smooth his ruffled feathers, to be sud- 

 denly rushed at and assaulted by some quarrel- 

 some comrade. Feeding, fighting, and frolicking 

 seemed to occupy their entire time. 



