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A French Member of the Society,



complete collection of the varieties that exist in the island. Of the

third, Bellona exilis, the tiniest of all, only two or three specimens

had been captured, and of these one survived and was successfully

landed. A wonderful little fellow, hardly bigger than a bumble-bee,

yet perfect in his minute size ; a little gem clad in lavender-greys

and soft greens, with a huge helmet or topknot, flashing emerald and

sapphire lights, always alert, perky, lively as a cricket on a summer’s

day, he would buzz about in his little cage, hardly ever resting, even

through the terrific storms that awaited us off the Spanish and

French coasts. After his safe arrival and for many months he was

my greatest joy, and excited the envy of all who came to see him.

Alas ! a few weeks ago, the end came : he had not moulted out

properly during the warm days, and having lost some wing-feathers,

yet not produced the new ones in good time, had lost the power to

fly, and died of no other apparent cause, early in the present month

(November), after being in my possession over seven months.


The first few days that followed our departure from

Guadeloupe, homeward bound, were days of anxiety. Some of the

Humming Birds took readily to the food and never gave any trouble ;

but others had to be fed by hand, at regular intervals, before they

made up their mind that captivity was not so bad after all and life

worth living yet. This was really hard work : for hummers appear

to need an enormous amount of nourishment, and the business of

catching each in turn and patiently holding the little creature over

the syrup until he began to sip it up, had to be unceasingly repeated.

To make matters worse, we met strong trade-winds with heavy seas

directly we sailed out of Pointe-a-Pitre. The big vessel pitched and

rocked, causing her passengers no little discomfort; then the cabin

we had chosen specially for the birds,—a large, very light room with

four windows,—from its high position on the bridge-deck, intensified

each roll of the boat; occasionally a Humming Bird would escape

from our hands, and of all ordeals perhaps this was the worst.

Imagine running, or rather tumbling, round and round a large room,

full of furniture, cages and trunks, on a tossing ship, a cloth in one

hand and cap in the other,—for we had no net,—after a bird for whom

flying is no exertion whatever, and whose firm intention next to

dodging the pursuer, is never to perch at all. Indeed, I don’t know



