52 BRAMBLES AND BAY LEAVES. 



there are five or six. Then is he a husband in earnest. No intruding 

 sparrow dare take shelter near his nest ; no cat even 'warm it with her 

 feline breath. He is all wings and claws, and his beak is a dagger to 

 transfix every enemy to his domestic peace. He is an example of 

 perpetual motion, too, and hurries here and there for dainty bits of 

 meat which the cook has thrown out, fat snails, hirsute caterpillars, 

 pickings from the pig- trough, and bread-crumbs, carrying them into 

 the nest for his faithful partner, who receives each with a low 

 chuckle of satisfaction. Not food alone, but every stray feather, wisp 

 of wool, or bunch of cotton-thread is carried up also to increase the 

 warmth of the nest and preserve the eggs from chill, while both the 

 parents are away in the morning and evening. He not only knows 

 no fatigue in his unceasing search for food, but he takes his turn at 

 sitting while she airs herself at daybreak, and the moment she returns 

 he darts off again in search of feathers, grubs, and bread-crumbs. He 

 is the model husband now, and has given up fighting and quarrelling. 

 By-and-by there are weak voices crying for food, and a number of 

 naked children stare him in the face, all crying in one dismal tone as 

 they squat in a confused heap with their wide yellow gaping mouths 

 for continued supplies. He is astonished at the voracity of his own 

 children ; they would eat up mother and father if they had but the 

 strength to do it. He flies here, there, and everywhere ; and however 

 much he brings, there is always the same cry, and the same cluster of 

 gaping ja\YS to greet him. It is enough for both parents now to keep 

 their six juvenile gizzards grinding, while the six juvenile mouths, 

 like separate and determined Olivers, keep crying out for " more." 



With this attention and good feeding, the babes in the nest soon 

 become babes in the wood, and the fond parents, inflated with parental 

 pride, take out their chelping children on short excursions over tiles 

 and parapets, and then down into gardens, where they both feed them 

 alternately from their own mouths. While the father is offering them 

 what he has brought in his bill, the mother is foraging elsewhere, and 

 when she returns, he darts off again, and thus protection and food are 

 both administered. A week's exercise in this way completes the 

 education of the fledglings, and then the sparrow colony breaks up ; 

 the old citizen birds leave the town to sun themselves in corn-fields, 

 and make acquaintance with the rustics that dwell in the thatch. An 

 ivied wall, which has sheltered fifteen or twenty pairs in spring, is 

 almost deserted before July, and the cheerful chelping, which woke 



