The Project Gutenberg EBook of Our Young Folks, Vol 1, No. 1, by Various
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Our Young Folks, Vol 1, No. 1
An Illustrated Magazine
Author: Various
Editor: J.T. Trowbridge
Gail Hamilton
Lucy Larcom
Release Date: August 6, 2009 [EBook #29626]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR YOUNG FOLKS, VOL 1, NO. 1 ***
Produced by Marcia Brooks, David Edwards and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at
http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet
Archive/American Libraries.)
OUR YOUNG FOLKS.
_An Illustrated Magazine_
FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
VOL. I. JANUARY, 1865. NO. I.
HUM, THE SON OF BUZ.
At Rye Beach, during our summer's vacation, there came, as there always
will to seaside visitors, two or three cold, chilly, rainy days,--days
when the skies that long had not rained a drop seemed suddenly to
bethink themselves of their remissness, and to pour down water, not by
drops, but by pailfuls. The chilly wind blew and whistled, the water
dashed along the ground, and careered in foamy rills along the roadside,
and the bushes bent beneath the constant flood. It was plain that there
was to be no sea-bathing on such a day, no walks, no rides; and so,
shivering and drawing our blanket-shawls close about us, we sat down to
the window to watch the storm outside. The rose-bushes under the window
hung dripping under their load of moisture, each spray shedding a
constant shower on the spray below it. On one of these lower sprays,
under the perpetual drip, what should we see but a poor little
humming-bird, drawn up into the tiniest shivering ball, and clinging
with a desperate grasp to his uncomfortable perch. A humming-bird we
knew him to be at once, though his feathers were so matted and glued
down by the rain that he looked not much bigger than a honey-bee, and as
different as possible from the smart, pert, airy little character that
we had so often seen flirting with the flowers. He was evid
|