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Updated: June 28, 2025
Then: "Honey-bell," she said tranquilly, "if we are bitter, try to remember that we are a nation in pain." "A nation!" "Dear, we have always been that only the No'th has just found it out. Charleston is telling her now. God give that our cannon need not repeat it." "But, Celia, the cannon can't! The same flag belongs to us both." "Not when it flies over Sumter, Honey-bird."
He had no business with it, and would thank it to mind its own affairs. And the honey-bird didn't care much, either, she having no young to feed, because, cuckoo-like, she left other birds woodpeckers, for choice to see to that.
"Did you hear the dance he led some of the Hottentots on Sunday evening, when we were at the Mission?" "No; what was that?" "Bremen told me of it; I thought he would have died with laughing. You are aware that there is a species of bird here which they call the honey-bird, by naturalists, the Cuculus indicator; do you not remember I showed you a specimen which I was preserving?"
"As fo' you, Paige, you are certainly a ve'y rare kind of Honey-bird, and I reckon Mr. Ba'num will sho'ly catch you some day fo' his museum. Who ever heard of a shif'less Yankee girl except you and Marye?" "O mother, how can we mend everything we tear? It's heartless to ask us!" "You don't have to try to mend ev'ything. Fo' example, there's Jimmy Lent's heart "
"Why shrink, my honey-bird? Why so afeard, my sweet cinnamon?" exclaimed the other, a loose-jointed lanky youth with a dancing, roguish eye. "Truly, sirs, it is a new sight to me," the clerk answered. "When I saw your four legs above the bush I could scarce credit my own eyes. Why is it that you do this thing?" "A dry question to answer," cried the younger, coming back on to his feet.
The tiny perpusilla started up like rabbits from me as I stole along through the underbrush; the honey-bird hopped from tree to tree chirping its call, as if it thought I was seeking the little sweet treasure, the hiding-place of which it only knew; but no! I neither desired perpusilla nor the honey. I was on the search for something great this day.
Still, I did not wish to disappoint the honey-bird, as I was in hopes he would on another day be on the look-out for me, and help me to get a further quantity when we might need it. At last the wood was reached, when, making his way into it, I saw him pitch on a bough as before; but the trees were small, and I could see none round likely to contain a cavity in which bees would have formed a nest.
In the children of nature the emotions maintain their elemental balance and their sense of the proportions of life is instinctively true. "Look, honey-bird, who's coming!" said Mother Mayberry, just as she was turning to seat herself in her rocking-chair, tired out as she was with the strain of the long day. "Run, meet 'em at the gate!"
"Well, now," said Mother, as she inspected the tight little wad on the blue heel. "It was right down kind of you to turn to and help me like this, but, honey-bird, Tom Mayberry would walk like a hop toad after he'd done got it on. You have drawn it bad. I don't know no better time to learn you how to darn your husband's socks than right now on this one of Tom's.
Great masses of iron haematite cropped up above the surfaces in these forests. Wild fruit began to be abundant; the wood-apple and tamarind and a small plum-like fruit, furnished us with many an agreeable repast. The honey-bird is very frequent in these forests of Ukonongo. Its cry is a loud, quick chirrup.
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