23-1: The Amethyst Sunbird in its own Country. 
French window of my bedroom. I knew it to be the song of 
a Sunfl^ird, but there was something ;so very energetic and 
full of life and happiness in it, that I did not wait for my 
IcJiidmatgur (table servant) to bi'ing my tea and tell me it 
was time to get up, but I slipped out of bed, and' without 
showing myself, peeped through the bamboo screen that hung 
over the open window. The sight that I saw quite repaid 
me for my trouble, for there was a gallant little Amethyst- 
rumped Honeysucker {Arachnechthra zeylonica) courting his 
more modest coloured little lady love in a most determined way, 
without any of the bashful hesitation so common amongst the 
lorda of creation. There he was, right on the top of a low 
tree, with all his feathers puffed out, his long curved bill 
pointing to the sky, his head bent back almost to his tail^ 
singing as if he meant to burst himself. He did not stay 
there long, but dashed round the tree^ and out dashed his little 
lady love, in and out, into the next tree, back again, then off 
to end of garden, singing all the time as if rapid flight needed 
no special saving of the wind to keep it up. Back they 
came again, and a real beauty he looked as now he gleamed 
a tiny mass of iridescent purple, which changed to 
metallic green as he turned in his flight; now a gleam of 
sulphur -yellow as he shot straight upwards showing his waist- 
coat, gorgeously set oif by the metallic lilac of his chin and 
throat, and the pure white of his under wing- coverts. Away 
they go again to a neighbouring tank surrounded by trees of 
many kinds, and I lost sight of them for the time being. 
I had plenty of work to do that morning;, so I could 
not go off to watch my little friend, as I would have loved 
to do, but I did not forget him, and two or three mornings 
after, I got up an hour earlier than usual to try and locate 
his nest, if he had already built one. I must now ask my 
readers to allow me to finish the story of this little couple 
after the manner of story-tellers, i.e., as fiction built on fact 
(in this instance, it is the compiling of their life history, from 
Uie long continued observation of many pairs). 
When I went forth at early dawn to make a closer 
accjuahitance with my little Sunbird, I found out a good deal 
about other birds as well, but their story can rest for an- 
other lime. I was not long kept waiting befoi-e I saw the 
