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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Our Young Folks, Vol 1, No. 1, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Our Young Folks, Vol 1, No. 1 An Illustrated Magazine Author: Various Editor: J.T. Trowbridge Gail Hamilton Lucy Larcom Release Date: August 6, 2009 [EBook #29626] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR YOUNG FOLKS, VOL 1, NO. 1 *** Produced by Marcia Brooks, David Edwards and the Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) OUR YOUNG FOLKS. _An Illustrated Magazine_ FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. VOL. I. JANUARY, 1865. NO. I. HUM, THE SON OF BUZ. At Rye Beach, during our summer's vacation, there came, as there always will to seaside visitors, two or three cold, chilly, rainy days,--days when the skies that long had not rained a drop seemed suddenly to bethink themselves of their remissness, and to pour down water, not by drops, but by pailfuls. The chilly wind blew and whistled, the water dashed along the ground, and careered in foamy rills along the roadside, and the bushes bent beneath the constant flood. It was plain that there was to be no sea-bathing on such a day, no walks, no rides; and so, shivering and drawing our blanket-shawls close about us, we sat down to the window to watch the storm outside. The rose-bushes under the window hung dripping under their load of moisture, each spray shedding a constant shower on the spray below it. On one of these lower sprays, under the perpetual drip, what should we see but a poor little humming-bird, drawn up into the tiniest shivering ball, and clinging with a desperate grasp to his uncomfortable perch. A humming-bird we knew him to be at once, though his feathers were so matted and glued down by the rain that he looked not much bigger than a honey-bee, and as different as possible from the smart, pert, airy little character that we had so often seen flirting with the flowers. He was evid
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