PHAON COMET HUMMING-BIRD. 197 



glitters like one of those glowing and wandering 

 meteors above. 



Nothing can be more gorgeous than its attire. 

 The feathers of the back are a deep luminous 

 crimson, its throat is like an emerald, and the 

 magnificent tail-feathers are barred with black. 



It has all the habits of its race, and perhaps a 

 larger share of courage and of swiftness. It 

 sweeps through the air, like the spear with which 

 the Indian struck at the Cockatoo, and its whirling 

 headlong movements remind us of the weapon. 

 Sometimes the eye is wearied with these ceaseless 

 evolutions, and then the bird will drop, like a 

 falling star, into some huge blossom, and be 

 hidden from sight. 



In the high table -land of Bolivia the cold is 

 intense, and the icy winds sweep over with 

 chilling breath. The soil is barren and unfruitful, 

 and we look in vain for the birds and flowers of 

 the Tropics. But the deep sheltered valleys are 

 fertile in the extreme, and produce sugar, cotton, 

 and all the riches of a sunny clime. 



The table-land, cold and rugged as it is, has 



