THE SPARROW. 51 



tent, and it is not uncommon for fierce struggles to take place under 

 the tiles, where some unlucky cock or hen has got entrapped. He 

 partly deserves this for the careless way in which he builds his walls, 

 but he scarcely deserves to be hanged in his own noose when pursuing 

 his calling industriously. Such fatal catastrophes happen, however, 

 and not a few sparrows fall victims to their propensity for woollen 

 goods. Eennie relates an instance of a pair of sparrows which had 

 earned off a long piece of bass ; but when this had been successfully 

 stowed in the nest, it appeared they had not sufficient skill to work it 

 into the fabric, and both birds got their feet inextricably entangled in 

 the folds, and were held close prisoners. Around them assembled 

 their cackling neighbours, who appeared to be occupied in scolding 

 them for their folly, instead of imitating the mouse that released the 

 lion — in assisting them to get rid of their entanglements. They were 

 taken down and freed from their fetters, but were too exhausted to 

 survive their struggles, and a pair of their scolding neighbours took 

 possession of their premises a few days after. A note in the first 

 volume of the Zoological Journal states that a pair of sparrows which 

 had built at a house at Poole were observed to continue their regular 

 visit to the nest long after the time when the young birds take flight. 

 This tmusual circumstance continued throughout the year, and in the 

 winter, a gentleman who had all along observed them, determined on 

 investigating its cause. He mounted a ladder, and found one detained 

 a prisoner by means of a piece of string or worsted, which formed 

 part of the nest, having become accidentally twisted round the leg. 

 Being thus incapacitated from procuring its own sustenance, it had 

 been fed by the -willing and watchful parents. A still more tragical 

 occurrence is related in the London Kews of January 20, 1844. A 

 sparrow had built its nest in the eye-socket of the carved head of an 

 ox, which formed part of a frieze of one of the buildings in Sackville 

 Street, Dublin. By some means he had got his neck into a noose, 

 and in struggling to get free had fallen out of the nest, suspended by 

 the neck, like a wretched criminal, from the eye -socket of a skull. 



But the sparrow's cares do not end with nest-building. Some fine 

 spring morning he wakes up as usual, and finds his mate in an ecstacy 

 of chirping, and looking round him, discovers a clean oval eg^, with a 

 very white ground, variegated with ash and brown spots and streaks. 

 Before he goes to roost, the cackling begins again, and as he comes in 

 with a caterpillar for supper, she shows him another, and so on till 



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