HINTS BY THE WAY. 83 



ing him, for though not a warrior who would 

 snap his bill over the head of an enemy of his 

 home, he had a gallant holiday air with his blue 

 coat and merry song, and you felt sure his little 

 brown mate would get cheer and courage enough 

 from his presence to make family dangers appear 

 less frightful. Even this casual acquaintance 

 with the little pair gave me a new and tender 

 interest in all of their name I might know in 

 future. 



While watching the lazulis from the sycamores, 

 on looking up on a level with Billy's ears, I dis- 

 covered a snug canopied nest held by a jointed 

 branch of the twisted tree, as in the palm of your 

 hand. It was as if the old sycamore were pro- 

 tecting the little brood, holding it secure from all 

 dangers. Looking at the nest, I spied a brown 

 tail resting against the limb, and then a small 

 brown head was raised to look at me from be- 

 tween the leaves. It was the little bird whose 

 sweet home-like song had so cheered my heart in 

 this far-away land, the home song sparrow, dearer 

 than all the birds of California. It was such a 

 pleasure to find her that I sat in the saddle and 

 talked to the pretty bird while she brooded her 

 eggs under the green leaves. 



The next time we went down to the sycamore 

 the bird was away, and it seemed as if the tree 

 had been deserted. It was empty and uninterest- 

 ing. Again I came, and this time the father 



