"The pugnacity of the Humming Bird has been often spoken of; two of the same species can scarcely suck flowers from the same bush without a rencontre. I once witnessed a combat between two which was prosecuted with much pertinacity, and protracted to an unusual length. It was in the month of April at Phœnix Park, near Savannah-la-Mer. In the garden were two trees of the kind called Malay apple, one of which was but a yard or two from my window. The genial influence of the spring rains had covered them with a profusion of beautiful blossoms, each consisting of a multitude of crimson stamens with very minute petals, like bunches of crimson tassels, but the last buds were only beginning to open. A Humming Bird had every day and all day long been paying his devoirs to these charming blossoms. On the morning to which I allude another appeared, and the manœuvres of these two tiny creatures became very interesting. They chased each other through the labyrinths of twigs and flowers till, an opportunity occurring, one would dart with seeming fury upon the other, and then, with a loud rustling of their wings, they would twirl together round and round until they nearly came to the earth. It was some time before I could see with any distinctness what took place in these tussles; their twistings were so rapid as to baffle all attempts at discrimination. At length an encounter took place pretty close to me, and I perceived that the beak of the one grasped the beak of the other, and, thus fastened, both whirled round in their perpendicular descent, the point of contact being the centre of the gyrations, till, when another second would have brought them to the ground, they separated, and the one chased the other for about a hundred yards and then returned in triumph to the tree, where, perched on a lofty twig, he chirped monotonously and pertinaciously for a time, I could not help thinking, in defiance. In a few minutes the banished one returned, and began chirping no less provokingly, which soon brought on another chase and another tussle. I am persuaded that these were both hostile encounters, for the one seemed evidently afraid of the other, fleeing when he pursued, though his indomitable spirit would prompt the chirp of defiance, and when resting after a battle I noticed that the vanquished one held his beak open as if panting. Sometimes they would suspend hostilities to suck a few blossoms, but mutual proximity was sure to bring them on again with the same result. In their tortuous and rapid evolutions the light from their ruby necks would flash in the sun with gem-like radiance, and as they now and then hovered motionless, the broadly-expanded tail--the outer feathers of which were crimson-purple, but in the sun's rays transmitted orange-coloured light--added much to their beauty. A little Banana Quit (_Certhiola flaveola_), that was peeping among the blossoms in his own quiet way, seemed now and then to