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Updated: June 28, 2025
"What's gone?" asked Aunt Kate, and Uncle Henry added: "What's happened to you, honey-bird?" "My Beulah!" cried Nan, almost sobbing. "My Beulah, she's been taken!" "My mercy, child!" cried Aunt Kate, jumping up. "Are you crazy?" "Who's Beulah?" demanded Rafe, looking up from his gun and, Nan thought, showing less surprise than the others.
We'll go up to Dead Man's Bend and watch her come down. There is no other drive betwixt us and Blackton's." "Why is it called by such a horrid name, Uncle?" asked Nan. "What, honey?" he responded. "That bend in the river." "Why, I don't know rightly, honey-bird. She's just called that. Many a man's lost his life there since I came into this part of the country, that's a fact.
No matter what paths of life it may be the fortune of my readers to tread, let me recommend those wearied with social bustle and the empty amenities of present-day existence to pass a few weeks in the comparative solitude of several pleasant companions "under the stars" in North-Western Rhodesia, where they can still catch a glimpse of the elusive zebras, with coats shining in the sun like burnished steel, and hear the persistent call of the honey-bird.
"Twenty devils fly away with him!" shouted another. "What, how, man! are brave archers to go maidless while an old man uses one as a walking-staff?" "Come with me, my honey-bird!" cried a third, plucking at the girl's mantle. "Nay, with me, my heart's desire!" said the first. "By St. George! our life is short, and we should be merry while we may.
At Krokodil River I had the privilege of seeing how a honey-bird takes a human being to a bees' nest. As we were lying under a tree, a honey-bird settled close to us. Corporal Botman followed it as it flew chirping from tree to tree, and called to it that he was following, until the bird stopped at the hive.
It isn't entirely that he is so tall and grand and has such eyes, but do you know I think it is because he is so like you that he is so lovely." And the singer lady tucked her hand into Mother Mayberry's with a shy blush. "Liking folks kinder shines 'em up, same as furniture polish, honey-bird," laughed Mother Mayberry with delight at the compliment. "You're a-rubbing some on me and Tom Mayberry.
She dwelt ever so lightly upon the verb, and Uncle Jake caught it. "No, Miss Sally," he explained, "dat ain' 'zackly what I mean. Hit's like dis I just am boun' foh to hyah all de folks shout glory when ma Honey-bird comes home!" "What if she ain't in front, Uncle Jake?" said Blister, helping the old man into the motor. "Don't you trifle with me, boy!" replied Uncle Jake severely.
"It do seem Mis' Peavey are a victim of a most pitiful unrest," said Mother to herself as she watched with satisfaction Ruffle Neck tuck the last despised little Hoosier under her soft gray breast. "Some folks act like they had dyspepsy of the mind. Dearie me, I must go and take a glass of cream to my honey-bird, for that between-meal snack that Tom Mayberry are so perticular about."
Having got to a considerable distance from the wood, I ventured to turn round and walk forwards, at the same time very frequently casting anxious glances over my shoulder to ascertain whether the lion was coming in pursuit of me. In vain the honey-bird tried to draw me off on one side. I declined after this accompanying my little friend any further.
Here I saw for the first time that natural curiosity, the honey-bird. Omar pointed it out to me. It was a little grey common-looking bird about the size of a thrush. It first forced itself upon our notice by flying across our path, uttering a shrill, unlovely cry. It then sat on a neighbouring tree still calling and waiting for us to follow.
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