Once upon a time there was a family of Humming Birds who always spent the winter in Mexico. In this family, besides the father and mother, there was a grandfather and grandmother, and also a great grandfather and, great grandmother, and ever so many children. It was the custom of the Humming Bird family to spend Christmas day together, and they assembled early in the morning in a beautiful live oak tree, the leaves of which were so much like holly leaves that no Christmas wreaths were needed. The tree was a handsome one and suitable in every way for a Christmas Humming Bird party. At last every one had come except young Master Topaza Humming Bird, who could not resist the temptation of flying from place to place along the way, thrusting his long bill, of which he was very proud, into the beautiful blossoms which he found, and taking a little sip of honey from each one. Great grandfather Humming Bird missed Master Topaza and called to his little brother Iris to go and find him and bring him immediately to the oak tree. Iris promptly obeyed and soon returned with his brother. Then great grandfather, who always was given first place on such occasions, fluttered his wings and said: "Dear children, were our cousins, the Swifts, invited to take part with us in our concert this afternoon?"

"Oh, yes," said Mamma Humming Bird, "I met papa Swift one day while I was getting honey from the beautiful red blossoms of a shrub which grows in the southern end of this valley. I invited him to come today and bring all his family, and he said he would, and also that he would come early, for he wished to have us tell him about the lovely place where we spent last summer."

Little Coquette Humming Bird sat watching her brother Helenae — what a queer name for a boy Humming Bird, you think — but probably his parents gave it to him because he was always prinking and preening his feathers. "Just like a girl," his brothers said. But however much Coquette might preen her feathers, she never looked as beautiful as her brother Helenae, and that was what she was thinking about as she watched him. He carefully arranged the three long, slender, greenish- black feathers which grew on either side of his head, and the metallic green feathers of his throat were so glistening and bright that little Coquette imagined she could see herself in them as she could in a little spring where she often went for a drink.

After Helenae had finished his toilet he moved his wings very rapidly a few times, and raised himself up as high as he could, on his feet without taking them off the limb on which he sat, then he settled down, closing his eyes for a moment. Just then Coquette cried out: "The Swifts are coming! Look, no one else could fly so fast! There they are near those old mahogany trees on the bank of the river." There was a grand rustle of preparation that everything might be in order and every one look his best when the cousins arrived. In a few moments mamma Swift and her daughter Cyprelus came, alighting on the same branch together. Then there was a whir of wings that sounded like the wind flapping the sails on a sailboat, and there was an excited chirping of welcomes and "Merry Christmas" on both sides.

Grandfather Humming Bird was a good storyteller, and his wife, who was the dearest old lady Humming Bird in the world, had often advised him to write a book of his travels on the leaves of the lovely rose-laurel bush, but Grandfather Humming Bird told her that writing books of travel was too humdrum for a Humming Bird; that such work was only for that queer creature called man. Several Humming Birds then said that they felt very friendly toward man, because he loved flowers and took such pains to plant them every spring. And the Swifts, with one accord, said they were much indebted to man for his chimneys, for they made the best building places possible. "Before the white man came to this country," said grandfather Swift, "our ancestors had to build their nests in old hollow trees". "The red man was an admirer of ours," said uncle Tarsi Swift, who was an old bachelor and a little cross sometimes. "I could get along very well without the white man and his chimneys. He has driven the red man away, and cut down the grand old forests. When I was a child nothing pleased me better than to see an Indian chief, with his high moccasins trimmed with feathers. I know he trimmed them that way to make his legs look like ours". "But he could not make his feet look like yours if he tried," spoke up a pert young Humming Bird, who, with a group of others, was looking and listening in a quiet corner, and he glanced down at uncle Tarsi Swift's first toe, which was turned forwards and he counted the phalanges in uncle Tarsi's toes and compared them with his own. Three of Uncle Tarsi's toes were alike, but all of the pert Humming Birds were different.