HUM, THE SON OF BUZ. 75 



could catch his little claws. There he would sit, balancing 

 himself cleverly if its occupant chose to swing to and fro, 

 and seeming to be listening to the conversation or reading. 



Hum had his different moods, like human beings. On 

 cold, cloudy, gray days he appeared to be somewhat de 

 pressed in spirits, hummed less about the room, and sat 

 humped up with his feathers ruffled, looking as much like 

 a bird in a great-coat as possible. But on hot, sunny days, 

 every feather sleeked itself down, and his little body looked 

 natty and trim, his head alert, his eyes bright, and it was 

 impossible to come near him, for his agility. Then let mos 

 quitoes and little flies look about them ! Hum snapped them 

 up without mercy, and seemed to be all over the ceiling 

 in a moment, and resisted all our efforts at any personal 

 familiarity with a saucy alacrity. 



Hum had his established institutions in our room, the 

 chief of which was a tumbler with a little sugar and water 

 mixed in it, and a spoon laid across, out of which he helped 

 himself whenever he felt in the mood, sitting on the edge 

 of the tumbler, and dipping his long bill, and lapping with 

 his little forked tongue like a kitten. When he found his 

 spoon accidentally dry, he would stoop over and dip his 

 bill in the water in the tumbler, which caused the proph 

 ecy on the part of some of his guardians, that he would 

 fall in some day and be drowned. For which reason it was 

 agreed to keep only an inch in depth of the fluid at the 



