n once watched these
humming-birds at their work on purpose to see whether they would respect
the noble Scotchman's dictum. I am compelled to report that they
appeared never to have heard of his theory. At any rate they very
plainly did fly tail foremost; and that not only in _dropping_ from a
blossom,--in which case the seeming flight might have been, as the duke
maintains, an optical illusion merely,--but even while backing out of
the flower-tube in an upward direction. They are commendably catholic in
their tastes. I saw one exploring the disk of a sunflower, in company
with a splendid monarch butterfly. Possibly he knew that the sunflower
was just then in fashion. Only a few minutes earlier the same bird--or
another like him--had chased an English sparrow out of the Garden,
across Arlington Street, and up to the very roof of a House, to the
great delight of at least one patriotic Yankee. At another time I saw
one of these tiny beauties making his morning toilet in a very pretty
fashion, leaning forward, and brushing first one cheek and then the
other against the wet rose leaf on which he was perched.

The only swallows on my list are the barn swallows and the
white-breasted. The former, as they go hawking about the crowded
streets, must often send the thoughts of rich city merchants back to the
big barns of their grandfathers, far off in out-of-the-way country
places. Of course we have the chimney swifts, also (near relatives of
the humming-birds!), but they are not swallows.

Speaking of the swallows, I am reminded of a hawk that came to Boston,
one morning, fully determined not to go away without a taste of the
famous imported sparrows. It is nothing unusual for hawks to be seen
flying over the city, but I had never before known one actually to make
the Public Garden his hunting-ground. This bird perched for a while on
the Arlington Street fence, within a few feet of a passing carriage;
next he was on the ground, peering into a bed of rhododendrons; then for
a long time he sat still in a tree, while numbers of men walked back
and forth underneath; between whiles he sailed about, on the watch for
his prey. On one of these last occasions a little company of swallows
came along, and one of them immediately went out of his way to swoop
down upon the hawk, and deal him a dab. Then, as he rejoined his
companions, I heard him give a little chuckle, as though he said, "There!
did you see me peck at him? You don't think I