BENEATH TROPIC SEAS 



Humble bee: wherefore she is called the Humbird. " 

 As far back as 1697 Benjamin Buttivant kept 

 one of these birds in captivity in Boston, and tells 

 us, "The Humbird I have shot with sand, and had 

 one some weeks in my keeping. I put a Straw 

 for Perch into a Venice Glass Tumbler, ty'd over 

 the Mouth with a Paper in which I cut holes for 

 the Bird's Bill (about as long and as small as a 

 Taylor's needle), and laying the Glass on one side, 

 set a Drachm of honey by it, which it soon scented; 

 and with its long Tongue put forth beyond its 

 bill, fed daily; it muted the Honey pure, and was 

 a prospect to many comers: it flew away at last." 

 If we walk through a northern garden this spring 

 we may find the two hundred and thirtieth gen- 

 eration grandchild of Benjamin's humbird — first 

 as a distant, indistinct murmur, rising immediately 

 into an assured, definite hum, and before our face, 

 resting easily in mid-air, is the wingless wonder 

 of a ruby -throated hummingbird in flight. His 

 head, his back are shining green, his breast and 

 under parts dull dusky brown, but his throat is 

 living color. At first sight it is coal black. Then 

 as his bright, intelligent eyes examine us closely, 

 he turns on his own axis, and the dull coal kindles 

 and takes fire — a greenish flame which flickers into 

 golden and this to brilliant, blazing, metallic red. 

 Nothing is easier than to wax sentimental over 

 the slaying of a hummingbird. Results only will 

 serve to justify it, and it is undeniable that for 

 many reasons, a hummingbird in the hand is, 



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