The pugnacity of these little birds is almost universally alluded to by writers who have enjoyed opportunities of observing them in the countries where they abound. A Humming Bird of any size, even the smallest, is not on that account less a fighting character, and jealous of whatever rights and privileges he considers himself entitled to. But as both of the authors above quoted, have alluded to this point, we beg the indulgence of the reader to lay before him another extract especially relating to this hostility of disposition, and happily illustrative of the fights and feuds of the Humming Birds. It is from the very pleasant and valuable little work, previously mentioned, on the Birds of Jamaica, by Mr. Philip Henry Gosse; and the species alluded to, the Mango Humming Bird (_T. mango_), is one which is considerably larger than the common ruby-throated species of the United States. It is abundant in the West Indies, and in some parts of South America, and it occasionally visits the shores of Florida. It is figured by Mr. Audubon:— “A Mango Humming Bird had, every day, and all day long, been paying his _devoirs_ to these charming blossoms” (the Malay apple, _Eugenia malaccensis_). “On the morning to which I allude, another came, and the manœuvres of these two tiny creatures became highly interesting. They chased each other through the labyrinth of twigs and flowers, till, an opportunity occurring, the 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 twirlings 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 that of the other, and thus fastened, both whirled round and round in their perpendicular descent, the point of contact being the centre of the gyrations, till, when another second would have brought them both 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 some time;—I could not help thinking, in defiance. In a few minutes, however, 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 hostile encounters, for one seemed evidently afraid of the other, fleeing when the other pursued, though his indomitable spirit would prompt the chirp of defiance; and, when resting after a battle, I noticed that this 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