HUM, THE SON OF BUZ. 7 1 



in rather a drabbled state, owing to these performances. 

 I have sketched him as he sat to-day on a bit of Spiraea 

 which I brought in for him. When absorbed in reflection, 

 he sits with his bill straight up in the air, as I have 



drawn him. Mr. A reads Macaulay to us, and you 



should see the wise air with which, perched on Jenny's 

 thumb, he cocked his head now one side and then the 

 other, apparently listening with most critical attention. His 

 confidence in us seems unbounded ; he lets us stroke his 

 head, smooth his feathers, without a flutter ; and is never 

 better pleased than sitting, as he has been doing all this 

 while, on my hand, turning up his bill, and watching my 

 face with great edification. 



"I have just been having a sort of maternal struggle to 

 make him go to bed in his box ; but he evidently consid- 

 ers himself sufficiently convalescent to make a stand for his 

 rights as a bird, and so scratched indignantly out of his 

 wrappings, and set himself up to roost on the edge of the 

 box, with an air worthy of a turkey, at the very least. 

 Having brought in a lamp, he has opened his eyes round 

 and wide, and sits cocking his little head at me reflect- 

 ively." 



When the weather cleared away, and the sun came out 

 bright, Hum became entirely well, and seemed resolved to 

 take the measure of his new life with us. Our windows 

 were closed in the lower part of the sash by frames with 



