Up in my hanging basket of ivy he made his bower , and sat there on the moss basking in the sunshine , as luxuriously as any gentleman in his conservatory . He was interested in the plants , and examined them daily with great care , walking over the ivy leaves , grubbing under the moss , and poking his head into the unfolding hyacinth buds to see how they got on . The pictures , also , seemed to attract his attention , for he spent much time skating over the glasses and studying the designs . Sometimes I would find him staring at my Madonna , as if he said , ` What in the world are all those topsy-turvy children about ? ' Then he 'd sit in the middle of a brook , in a water-color sketch by Vautin , as if bathing his feet , or seem to be eating the cherry which one little duck politely offers another little duck , in Oscar Pletch 's Summer Party . He frequently kissed my mother 's portrait , and sat on my father 's bald head , as if trying to get out some of the wisdom stored up there , like honey in an ill-thatched bee-hive . My bronze Mercury rather puzzled him , for he could not understand why the young gentleman did n't fly off when he had four wings and seemed in such a hurry . I 'm afraid he was a trifle vain , for he sat before the glass a great deal , and I often saw him cleaning his proboscis , and twiddling his feelers , and I know he was ` prinking , ' as we say . The books pleased him , too , and he used to run them over , as if trying to choose which he would read , and never seemed able to decide . He would have nothing to say to the fat French Dictionary , or my English Plays , but liked Goethe and Schiller , Emerson and Browning , as well as I did . Carlyle did n't suit him , and Richter evidently made his head ache . But Jean Ingelow 's Poems delighted him , and so did her ` Stories told to a Child . ' ` Fairy Bells ' he often listened to , and was very fond of the pictures in a photograph book of foreign places and great people . He frequently promenaded on the piazza of a little Swiss chalet , standing on the mantel-piece , and thought it a charming residence for a single gentleman like himself . The closet delighted him extremely , and he buzzed in the most joyful manner when he got among the provisions , -- for we kept house together . Such revels as he had in the sugar-bowl ; such feasts of gingerbread and grapes ; such long sips of milk , and sly peeps into every uncovered box and dish ! Once I 'm afraid he took too much cider , for I found him lying on his back , kicking and humming like a crazy top , and he was very queer all the rest of that day ; so I kept the bottle corked after that . But his favorite nook was among the ferns in the vase which a Parian dancing-girl carried . She stood just over the stove on one little toe , rattling some castanets , which made no sound , and never getting a step farther for all her prancing . This was a warm and pretty retreat for Buzz , and there he spent much of his time , swinging on the ferns , sleeping snugly in the vase , or warming his feet in the hot air that blew up , like a south wind , from the stove .
I do n't believe there was a happier fly in Boston than my friend Buzz , and I grew fonder and fonder of him every XXXXX ; for he never got into mischief , but sung his cheery song , no matter what the weather was , and made himself agreeable .
Browning Buzz Emerson Party Vautin chalet day gingerbread mantel-piece peeps