The Little Flame-bearer (there is a name for you!) is a still smaller Humming-bird than the last one--indeed his body, without the feathers, would not be _very_ much larger than a _very_ large humble-bee. Here, again, all the wonder is on its throat, which is topaz and green and copper, all glowing and sparkling together, as if they were all married to one another and each of them was trying to get the upper hand. Ah, was there ever such a sweet little gem-bird? He is a jewel mounted on wings and set in the air. Only sometimes, when he hovers just underneath a flower, he seems hanging from its tip like a pendant. Costa's Coquette (that means that some one named Costa--some Portuguese gentleman--was the first to write about it) is larger than the Little Flame-bearer (though not half so big as a wren), and he _tries_ to be brighter. Whether he _is_ brighter I am sure I can't say. To tell properly, one ought to see them both hovering under the same flower, or, at least, very close together, and even then one would only feel bewildered. But this one's head and throat are all one splendour, one marvellous gleam of rosy, pinky, rosy-pink, pinky-rose magenta. Only if you _say_ that that is what it is, it will change into violet and contradict you, and then, if you say it is violet, it will change into topaz and contradict you again. So you had better say nothing--for one does not want to be contradicted--but just hold your breath and watch it. It will change quite soon enough, even then, long before you are tired of its rosy, pinky, rosy-pink, pinky-rose magenta, which is a colour you have not seen, and which I have not told you about before. Only if you _must_ say something about it whilst you are looking at it--something besides "Oh!" I mean--say it is a Humming-bird. That will be quite sufficient, and not one of its colours can be offended with you then for not mentioning them and mentioning the others. Now, I must tell you that the feathers of this little bird's throat--of that wonderful, gleaming throat-gorget--grow out on each side into two little peaks, two little pointed tongues of rose-pink magenta flame (but hush!), and he can spread them out and shoot them forward, as well as the whole of the gorget, in quite a wonderful way. When he does that, what he _seems_ to do is to strike a great number of matches at the same time, and from each one, as he strikes it, there bursts out hundreds and hundreds of bright, sparkling jewels of flame. Ah, you should see him strike his jewel-matches--all together, all the jewels that there are, all struck in one second, as he whizzes about in the air. His back is all green, and _so_ bright, if only you cover up his head and throat. If you don't cover them--or as soon as you uncover them again--you hardly seem to see it. It is no brighter then than a glow-worm is when a very bright star is shooting through the air.