48 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 
buzzing wings in vain efforts to escape the clutches 
of that tenacious gum. 
The humming-birds brought me alive, I would place 
in a large gauze-covered box; but they seldom sur- 
vived many days, notwithstanding great care. If 
exposed to the light, they kept up a constant flutter- 
ing until the muscles of their wings became so stiff 
they could not close them, and they expired with 
wings wide outstretched. Some would take their cap- 
tivity quietly, and though flitting now and then to the 
front of the box when light was admitted, would sit 
upright upon the perch, giving an occasional chirp, 
and dressing their feathers as serenely as if in the 
open air. They would seem happy and cheerful ; 
but the fact is, they are creatures of light and sun- 
shine, and cannot exist without it. You may give 
them their favorite food of honey and insects, fresh 
flowers every day, with the morning dew yet drip- 
ping from them, and yet, despite your tenderest care, 
they will droop and die. 
It is touching to witness the death of one of these 
innocent beings. Though I have caused more than 
one to lose-its life, I never did it without a pang, as 
though I were committing a great wrong. To shoot 
a bird at a distance, and have him fall at a distance 
without a struggle, is not the same as to see him die 
ia your hand. To watch the feeble fluttering of the 
stiffening wings, the expiring glance of the fast-dim- 
ming eye, the painful pulsations of the gentle heart, 
the last quiver when all is over,—ah! how often 
has my conscience reproached me when looking upon 
such a scene. Again and again I have almost re- 
solved never to kill another bird, and only the thought 
