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166 J 22 FABLED STORIES FROM THE ZOO.
children, the well-clad and the ragged ones,
crowded round me, though the latter were a
little shy, as they were not accustomed to
have any one to tell them stories, except,
perhaps, in another sense of the word.
" These little birds," I commenced narrating,
" as you see, build a kind of arbour, which they
beautify in all possible ways with pretty stones
and shells, and twigs and leaves, and cast-off
feathers,—it is their playground, or rather, if
you please, their assembly-room. When I
was a young man, I passed some time at a
hospitable farm, or plantation, situated in the
southern hemisphere. I remember one
evening, towards sunset, lying listlessly swaying to
and fro in a hammock suspended between a
couple of large tropical trees. Creeping plants
hung in graceful draperies all round me, and
the thick foliage completely shaded me from
the scorching sun. I had been presented with
a little tame colibri, or humming-bird, not
much larger than my thumb, though there are
others as small as bees, that lay eggs no
bigger than green peas, and which they hatch
in six days, and the tiny things in another
week can fly about."
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