Seen and Lost. 367 
One of my earliest experiences of seeing and 
losing relates to a humming-bird—a_ veritable 
‘‘jewel of ornithology.” I was only a boy at the 
time, but already pretty well acquainted with the 
birds of the district I lived in, near La Plata River, 
and among them were three species of the huamming- 
bird. One spring day 1 saw a fourth—a wonderful 
little thing, only half as big as the smallest of the 
other three—the well-known Phaithornis splendens 
—and scarcely larger than a bumble-bee. I was 
within three feet of it as it sucked at the flowers, 
A lost Humming-bird. 
suspended motionless in the air, the wings appear- 
ing formless and mist-like from their rapid vibratory 
motion, but the rest of the upper plumage was seen 
distinctly as anything can be seen. The head and 
neck and upper part of the back were emerald green, 
with the metallic glitter usually seen in the burnished 
scale-like feathers of these small birds; the lower 
half of the back was velvet-black; the tail and tail- 
coverts white as snow. On two other occasions, at 
intervals of a few days, | saw this brillant little 
stranger, always very near, and tried without success 
