AN ISLAND GARDEN 115 



thoroughly. When I had done the drops clung 

 thickly to everything, to the sprays of Sweet Peas 

 especially, the rough surface of their leaves 

 and stalks catching and holding the water more 

 tenaciously than the smoother foliage ; they were 

 begemmed, as it were, with so many sparkling 

 spheres of light. The tamest, dearest humming- 

 bird, whose home is in the Larkspurs, was greatly 

 excited by this unexpected and refreshing shower, 

 and whirred about me, uttering continually his 

 one fine, sweet, keen note. When my rain-storm 

 ceased he flew to the Sweet Peas close to his 

 azure bower, and sitting on a green spray already 

 bent with the weight of the clear drops, proceeded 

 to take his morning bath with the most cheerful 

 enjoyment. He fluttered his tiny wings and 

 ducked his head and wagged his tail and drenched 

 himself completely ; his feathers were so soaking 

 wet that his little body looked no bigger than a 

 bumble-bee ; then he flew up and lighted on the 

 tallest pea-stick that reached over the fence 

 among the Larkspurs : there sitting on his favorite 

 twig he rapidly preened his feathers, shook him- 

 self, spread his wings and tail and combed them 

 with his slender beak and dried them in the 

 broad, bright beams that poured across the gar- 

 den from the low sun. With claws and beak he 

 smoothed and arranged his dainty raiment, per- 

 fectly regardless of me, his ardent admirer, stand- 

 ing near enough to touch him with my finger. 

 Then he fluttered in and out among the flowers, 

 dipping into every dewy chalice and feasting on 

 his fragrant honey. 



