The Swallow and the Sparrow 



a wall, in the open air, with some shelter 

 against the rain, is all that the Swallow asks 

 of our buildings. 



But the natural wall is a perpendicular 

 rock. If the bird here finds overhanging 

 projections, forming a penthouse, it must 

 adopt them as the equivalent of the ledge 

 of our roofs. Ornithologists know, in fact, 

 that in mountainous districts, far removed 

 from human dwellings, the Wall-swallow 

 builds against the vertical sides of the rocks, 

 so long as his ball of clay is under cover 

 of some kind. 



Near where I live are the Gigondas 

 Mountains, the most curious geological 

 structure that I have ever seen. Their long 

 chain displays so steep a slope that it is 

 almost impossible to stand upright near the 

 summit; and the ascent of the accessible 

 part has to be made on all-fours. You then 

 find yourself at the foot of a perpendicular 

 cliff, an enormous slab of sheer rock which, 

 like some Titanic rampart, tops the pre- 

 cipitous ridge with a jagged crest. The 

 people of the country call this Cyclopean 

 wall les Dentelles. I was one day bo- 

 tanizing at its base, when my eyes were at- 

 tracted by the evolutions of a flock of birds 

 in front of the rugged face of the rock. I 

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