SP FP Ee Ae 
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es 
ON BOSTON COMMON. 11 
Even as things are, however, the cold season 
is sure to bring us a few butcher-birds. These 
come on business, and are now welcomed as 
public benefactors, though formerly our spar- 
row-loving municipal authorities thought it 
their duty to shoot them. They travel singly, 
as a rule, and sometimes the same bird will be 
here for several weeks together. Then you will 
have no trouble about finding here and there 
in the hawthorn trees pleasing evidences of his 
activity and address. Collurio is brought up 
to be in love with his work. In his Mother 
Goose it is written, — 
Fe, fi, fo, farrow! 
I smell the blood of an English sparrow; 
and however long he may live, he never for- 
gets his early training. His days, as the poet 
says, are “bound each to each by natural 
piety.” Happy lot! wherein duty and con- 
science go ever hand in hand; for whose pos- 
sessor 
‘¢ Love is an unerring light, 
And joy its own security.’’ 
In appearance the shrike resembles the mock- 
ing-bird. Indeed, a policeman whom I found 
staring at one would have it that he was a 
mocking-bird. ‘Don’t you see he is? And 
he’s been singing, too.” I had nothing to say 
against the singing, since the shrike will often 
