220 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 



waiting for him. Then with fans and hats and 

 folded newspapers we would try to fan him out, 

 but it only made him wild — wild as a newly caught 

 linnet in a cage ; he would dart hither and thither 

 about the room, now among us, now over our 

 heads, still refusing to go out. We didn't want 

 him to go, so that after religiously doing our best 

 for him we were pleased to have him stay. We 

 even tried to make him happy as our guest by 

 offering him honey and golden-syrup and placing 

 flowers in vases all about the room, but he would 

 accept nothing from us. 



At rest on a wall or curtain he appeared as a 

 grey triangular patch, ornamented, when viewed 

 closely, with mottlings of a dusky hue ; but on 

 lifting his fore-wings, the lovely crimson colour of 

 the underwings was displayed. No crimson flower, 

 no sea-shell, no sunset cloud, can show a hue to 

 compare in loveliness with it. Another hidden 

 beauty was revealed when the lamps were lighted 

 to start him flying up and down the room over our 

 heads, always keeping close to the low ceiling. He 

 then had a surprisingly bird-like appearance, and 

 the under-surface of the bird-shaped body being 

 pure white and downy he was like a miniature 

 martin with crimson on the wings. He was then at 

 his best, our " elf-darling " ; no one dared touch him 

 even with a finger-tip lest that exquisitely delicate 

 down should be injured. I have frequently had 

 humming-birds blunder into a room where I sat and 

 fly round seeking an exit, but never one of these. 



