THE BIRD OF THE STREET. 187 



possibly be serious, and really intend to turn 

 her own babies out into the cold world. They 

 were very pretty. I did not know how bright 

 a young sparrow is before it is soiled with 

 the dust of the street. They were beautifully 

 marked in rich golden brown with a light 

 shade of the same color, the breast was nearly 

 white, the plumage soft and fresh, and the head 

 of particularly graceful shape and every way 

 attractive. 



All the afternoon the sparrow mother worked 

 at this business of disposing of her family cares, 

 but no sooner did she drive away one of her 

 brood than another returned, even trustingly 

 following her back when she had chased it to 

 the next tree ; and at evening I observed that 

 they all calmly placed themselves on their na- 

 tive spruce for the night. 



All this time the lord of the nest had not ap- 

 peared, but in the morning he took the field, 

 and it was evident, from the spirit he showed 

 in his work, that he intended to put a speedy 

 end to the affair. His manner was not exactly 

 what it usually is towards an enemy, though to 

 be sure it would be hard to proceed against 

 four in the same way as against one. He as- 

 sumed his most warlike attitude, feathers bris- 

 tled up, wings trailing, back bent downward 

 like a bow, and tail pointed toward the sky. 



