?8 HUM, THE SON OF BUZ. 



by railroad ? Great were the consultings ; a little basket 

 of Indian work was filled up with cambric handkerchiefs, 

 and a bottle of sugar and water provided, and we started 

 with him for a day's journey. When we arrived at night 

 the first care was to see what had become of Hum, who 

 had not been looked at since we fed him with sugar and 

 water in Boston. We found him alive and well, but so 

 dead asleep . that we could not wake him to roost ; so we 

 put him to bed on a toilet cushion, and arranged his tum- 

 bler for morning. The next day found him alive and hum- 

 ming, exploring the room and pictures, perching now here 

 and now there ; but, as the weather was chilly, he sat for 

 the most part of the time in a humped-up state on the tip 

 of a pair of stag's horns. We moved him to a more sunny 

 apartment ; but, alas ! the equinoctial storm came on, and 

 there was no sun to be had for days. Hum was blue ; 

 the pleasant seaside days were over ; his room was lonely, 

 the pleasant three that had enlivened the apartment at Rye 

 no longer came in and out ; evidently he was lonesome, 

 and gave way to depression. One chilly morning he man- 

 aged again to fall into his tumbler, and wet himself through ; 

 and notwithstanding warm bathings and tender nursings, 

 the poor little fellow seemed to get diphtheria, or something 

 quite as bad for humming-birds. 



We carried him to a neighboring sunny parlor, where ivy 

 embowers all the walls, and the sun lies all day. There he 



