Their sorrows have fled with the wintry blast, And soft-flowing lays through the woodlands they pour; Forgetful how lately the winter wind blew, And they sung the sad notes of their plaintive lu-lu. With kindred and clan they mingle the strain, To build their low nests by the green hill side. And seek to beguile the sad wintry hours. While chilled by the night wind, and bathed by the dew, ORDER PASSERES. The Sparrow. Fringilla domestica.-LINN. THE most bold and mischievous of the feathered tribe in this country, is the sparrow. Invited or uninvited he heeds not, but freely takes his station in our fields, our gardens, our yards, and under the eaves of our houses. Sometimes he even dislodges the martin from his clay cottage, built with so much labour, coolly taking up his abode in the usurped tenement, and rearing there his young, as if it had descended to him by hereditary right, and been the home of his fathers, and the cradle of his infancy. In the winter, when we scatter crumbs for robins and other woodland favourites, whose usual resources have failed them in their hour of need, the sparrows come unbidden to the banquet, and too often possess themselves of the greater portion of the feast spread for others. At all seasons they are ever at hand. In the fields they devour the grain; in the gardens and orchards they attack the fruit; in the farm-yard they rob the wheat-rick, and share the provisions of the poultry. At the same time, there is in their air and carriage an appearance of audacity, which is sometimes almost provoking, and at other times exceedingly amusing. To give them their due portion of praise, they certainly do benefit us by destroying an immense number of caterpillars; but on the other hand they devour grain in such enormous quantities, as seems far more than an equivalent for the service they do us in the destruction of insects. A French writer on rural economy, has calculated that the grain consumed by sparrows in France annually, is worth ten millions of franks. We cannot therefore wonder that farmers and gardeners wage perpetual warfare with these pilferers. Indeed, there are few persons who are disposed to grant them protection, for while they render themselves ob noxious by their depredations, they have no sweet voice of song to plead in their behalf, as many of the fringilla tribe have, especially the goldfinch. The sparrow has only a short chirping note, which is not sufficiently musical to recommend him to our notice. Yet he is not without some beauty of plumage, when his colours are not dimmed by the smoke and dirt of the city, where he seems as happily and as easily to make his home, as in the country; he has, too, something better than mere appearance to claim our attention. Notwithstanding all the evil we have said of him, he is quite a model of parental tenderness, as the following interesting anecdote will prove. We shall relate the story in the words of Mr. Smellic, under whose observation the circumstances it details occurred. "When I was a boy," says that gentleman, "I carried off a nest of young sparrows, about a mile from my place of residence. After the nest was completely moved, and while I was marching home with them in triumph, I perceived, with some degree of astonishment, both the parents following me at some distance, and observing all my motions in perfect silence. A thought then struck me that they might follow me home, and feed the young according to their usual manner. When just entering the door |