"Oh, nurse, a humming-bird—a real humming-bird!—pretty creature! But it is gone. Oh, nurse, it darts through the air as swift as an arrow! What was it doing—looking at the honey-suckles? I daresay it thought them very pretty; or was it smelling them? They are very sweet."
"My dear child, he might be doing so; I don't know. Perhaps the good God has given to these creatures the same senses for enjoying sweet scents and bright colours as we have; yet it was not for the perfume, but the honey, that this little bird came to visit the open flowers. The long slender bill, which the humming-bird inserts into the tubes of the flowers, is his instrument for extracting the honey. Look at the pretty creature's ruby throat, and green and gold feathers."
"How does it make that whirring noise, nurse, just like the humming of a top?" asked the child.
"The little bird produces the sound, from which he derives his name, by beating the air with his wings. This rapid motion is necessary to sustain his position in the air while sucking the flowers.
"I remember, Lady Mary, first seeing humming-birds when I was about your age, while walking in the garden. It was a bright September morning, and the rail-fences and every dry twig of the brushwood were filled with the webs of the field-spider. Some, like thick white muslin, lay upon the grass; while others were suspended from trees like forest lace-work, on the threads of which the dewdrops hung like strings of shining pearls; and hovering round the flowers were several ruby-throated humming-birds, the whirring of whose wings as they beat the air sounded like the humming of a spinning-wheel. And I thought, as I gazed upon them, and the beautiful lace webs that hung among the bushes, that they must have been the work of these curious creatures, which had made them to catch flies, and had strung the bright dewdrops thereon to entice them—so little did I know of the nature of these birds. But my father told me a great deal about them, and read me some very pretty things about humming-birds; and one day, Lady Mary, I will show you a stuffed one a friend gave me, with its tiny nest and eggs not bigger than peas."
Lady Mary was much delighted at the idea of seeing the little nest and eggs, and Mrs. Frazer said, "There is a wild-flower that is known to the Canadians by the name of the Humming-flower, on account of the fondness which those birds evince for it. This plant grows on the moist banks of creeks It is very beautiful, of a bright orange-scarlet colour. The stalks and stem of the plant are almost transparent. Some call it Speckled Jewels, for the bright blossoms are spotted with dark purple; and some, Touch-me-not."
"That is a droll name, nurse," said Lady Mary. "Does it prick one's finger like a thistle?"
"No, my lady; but when the seed-pods are nearly ripe, if you touch them they spring open and curl into little rings, and the seed drops out."
"Nurse, when you see any of these curious flowers, will you show them to me?"
Mrs. Frazer said they would soon be in bloom, and promised Lady Mary to bring her some, and to show her the singular manner in which the pods burst. "But, my lady," said she, "the gardener will show you the same thing in the greenhouse. As soon as the seed-pods of the balsams in the pots begin to harden they will spring and curl, if touched, and drop the seeds like the wild plant; for they belong to the same family. But it is time for your ladyship to go in."